Lisa slowly opened the door, revealing a small hallway with a wooden staircase directly opposite and another door on the left. All was quiet apart from the dog still happily slurping from his water bowl. Once again, listening carefully for any sounds from within, she slowly opened the second door.
The next room was cool and dark but the light from the kitchen was enough for her to see that it appeared to serve as a combination of a pantry and a laundry room. White goods ran along one wall and the other was lined, floor to ceiling with well-stocked shelves. Another door at the far end looked as though it led back outside to the side of the house. Satisfied, she closed the door and joined Anita at the bottom of the stairs.
Anita led the way as they crept upstairs, weapons poised once again. They paused when the staircase turned halfway up onto a small landing. The silence was oppressive. They continued up to a wide square hallway with five doors leading off. The light from downstairs was still just enough to see by. Four doors were open slightly and one was closed. They stood for moment in the gloom, watching the doors and waiting, ready to react.
Lisa's stomach cramped and she felt bile rise in her throat again. She was shaking again too, but this time it was as much with exhaustion as fear. Her mouth was dry. Her head was aching. She was so tired. She honestly didn't think she had the strength for another terrifying encounter. It was too much. But she had no choice. She had to do this, had to keep going for just a bit longer.
Anita, on the other hand, seemed calm and alert. She moved quickly, kicking the four partly open doors wide open, one at a time, karate style, each time with a loud bang that resonated through the house.
"It's fine. There's no-one here. Don't worry. We'd know by now if there were." She was matter of fact.
Without any sign of fear, she opened the final closed door, then kicked it hard and fast like the others. It slammed wide on its hinges, bouncing back before it settled, revealing the interior of the room.
Immediately, her whole body tensed, and she stepped back raising the crowbar high, as if to strike. Lisa braced herself. A woman screamed, but she instantly recognised it as a healthy human scream.
She grabbed Anita's arm.
"No!"
Standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide with fear and arms raised defensively in front of her, was a small dark-blonde woman. She looked around fifty, but could have been older, trim and fit, in black and pink lycra running gear and trainers. She was crying and cowering.
"Please don't hurt me. Please."
"It's alright," Lisa reassured her. "Sorry, we thought you might be one of them."
Anita switched on the light and crossed the room to close the curtains. The woman sank down onto the bed, sobbing.
"What's happening? Who are you? Where's John?" she asked between sobs.
"We're from the train, out back." Anita waved in the direction of the train.
"We need help. Have you got a phone?" Lisa asked.
"They came from the train. I saw them. I tried to warn him. Where is he? Is he alright?"
She stood up again and looked at their faces. "Where's my husband?"
"I'm really sorry," Lisa said. "If he was outside, I think he's dead."
She looked at them in silence for an instant, as if struck, then collapsed onto the bed. Her hands covered her mouth and she issued a long high-pitched wail of despair, followed by more wretched sobbing and choking. She was inconsolable, but her unchallenging acceptance of her husband's fate suggested to Lisa that they had just confirmed what she'd already suspected.
They watched her, both struggling with their own emotions. Her pain was hard to watch.
Lisa wondered how she would react if someone told her Neil had died … what he would do if she did? It was cheesy, she knew, but they were everything to each other, and had been since the day they'd met. She couldn't imagine her life without him. If he died, she supposed she would just curl up in a ball and wait to die too. He was her lover and her best friend, and all the more precious because she found it hard to make friends … hard to form any close relationships, in fact.
She was aware that she was an introvert. Always too busy analysing and working out what was going on, to just enjoy the moment. Always wondering if people really liked her … whether she was doing and saying the right things and worrying that she was going to mess it up. She could count on one hand the number of people she'd truly ever been able to call her friend, and, even then, they had come and gone at different stages of her life. She knew lots of people, but for her, a friend was someone you could trust and be yourself with, free from fear of judgement or criticism. Someone like Neil who loved her unconditionally for who she was.
The woman on the bed was still weeping. Suddenly, the enormity and horror of what had happened over the past few hours hit Lisa hard. She started crying too. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. They had killed this woman's husband. How could they tell her that? The boy in the green hoodie was someone's son, and Craig was probably someone's father.
Her mind was rebelling. She was seriously conflicted. Her instincts had told her what they needed to do to survive, but her head was telling her that they had crossed a line. A line to a place they could never return from. They had killed
