He fell to his knees several times as he staggered away, John and Mark both pursuing him now.
He reached a spot where the shallow foundation for a small square building had been partially laid next to the semi-detached houses at the back of the site, a walled pit in the ground waiting to be filled and cemented. Eric collapsed beside the pit, too weak to go any farther.
Seizing him by the collar, John hauled Eric and threw him into the pit.
It was only about a metre deep. But it might as well have been a hundred; Eric hit the bottom with zero grace and lay sprawled on his chest, too sapped to drag himself up out of the hole. Bleeding. Dying.
Next to the pit were bags of building sand and cement powder. John took one of the open bags and began pouring sand into the pit, watching Eric squirm against the heaps of sand piling up around him, beginning to bury him. Mark joined in, lifting a bag of cement powder and emptying it into the hole.
As the men poured bag after bag of sand and cement on top of him, Eric screamed one last time before the gritty mixture covered his mouth.
3.
Sebastian turned from Kingsley’s unconscious body to face Emma, and she hid the knife behind her back. Another shrill scream came from outside and they both looked out the window to see Mark and John fighting Eric and the women – one of whom was already dead on the driveway.
“He knew your name,” Sebastian said, drawing Emma’s attention back to him. “You know each other. How?”
Her eyes widened. “I—I don’t know him,” she stammered. “He must be… mistaking me for someone. I don’t—I don’t know.”
Sebastian clearly didn’t believe her. She was a terrible liar. Panicking, she started to back out of the room.
“Wait,” Sebastian said as Emma limped into the hallway. He glanced once more at the fighting going on outside. Then he stepped into the hallway and raised the crossbow at her retreating back. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”
Emma froze.
Shaking with adrenaline, she tried to control her breathing as she turned back to face Sebastian, slipping the knife into the waistband of her trousers.
The two of them stood facing one another for a few silent seconds of suspense…
Then Emma launched her wooden stick at him, whirling back to continue hopping away on one foot.
She made it to the kitchen. A glance over her shoulder showed Sebastian aiming the crossbow at her once again – about to fire.
Emma jumped to the side and the bolt sailed past her and out the back doorway as she fell to the kitchen floor. Her injured knee was burning, throbbing. She tried to stand but Sebastian pinned her down and straddled her. The crossbow empty, he held it horizontally against her neck, pressing down and choking her.
“Stop struggling,” he spat.
Knife, was all Emma could think as she grew dizzy. But it was trapped beneath her, tucked in her waistband at the small of her back. Pushing back against the crossbow, she let go of it with one hand and tried to worm her fingers behind her back to get the knife, but with Sebastian’s weight on top of her she couldn’t squeeze her hand into the tight gap between herself and the floor. Emma strained upwards with her hips – the pressure against her throat increasing, her pulse thrumming in her ears and drowning out every other sound – until she managed to get her hand underneath and her fingers closed around the knife handle.
She was almost gone – her vision swimming with colours, a deafening silence wrapping her head – when she thrust the blade up between Sebastian’s ribs and felt him jerk in response.
He let go of the crossbow and Emma gasped and coughed and gulped in several breaths of metallic tasting air.
Sebastian slipped off of her and the sound of him choking on his own blood reached her ears. But she could barely comprehend what she had just done. It took a few minutes to pick herself back up off the cold stone floor, every hop sending a streak of molten pain through her knee.
Retrieving her walking stick, Emma limped back into the front room to check on Kingsley; breathing, still unconscious. Outside, the two women were dead on the ground. Skulls caved in and blood pooling around them. And now there was a third body, which she realised was Sammy.
Emma fought the urge to vomit as she looked for Eric, noticing Mark and John standing by the side of the houses at the back of the development, tipping something that looked like sand into a hole.
They must be burying his body, she thought, sick to her stomach. They’re all dead.
Kingsley started to stir. Groaned as he sat up and squinted at her. “What are you doing here, Emma?” he asked. Then as he got up, “Shit. What happened? Is Sammy okay?”
In tears, Emma shook her head.
“No. Fuck.” He walked to the window, looked at the bodies. She saw the emotion welling up in his throat, his eyes glassy.
“We have to go,” Emma said.
“Where’s Eric?”
“He’s… I think he’s dead.”
“You think? You don’t know?”
Emma shook her head again. “I think they’re burying his body over there,” she said, pointing to Mark and John. “But we really have to go.”
Kingsley rubbed his head where Sebastian had struck him. “I can’t go. I need to know what’s happened to him. I have to finish this.”
“No, Kingsley. Eric’s gone. I’m telling you, he’s dead. But we’re alive and we need to get out of here before they come and find us.” She grabbed his arm. “I can hardly walk. I need your help. Come on – don’t let me down. Please.”
He met her eyes, staring
