Later, when she tried to work out exactly what happened next, it was a blur. There was no time to think, only act. The boy lunged for Brian. The man struck out with his screwdriver, but the boy caught the sleeve of his coat and pulled his arm towards his mouth. Brian screamed in pain and shock as the boy sank his teeth into the side of his hand.
Almost at the same time, the dog leapt up, snarling, and knocked the boy to the ground. Brian reeled backwards clutching his hand. Then, Lisa and Anita were on the boy, striking and stabbing at him, as the dog tore at his arm. The boy was incredibly strong, seeming to barely notice the frenzy of blows that were reigning down on him. He snarled and struggled, grabbing and biting at them for what seemed like an eternity. A deep penetrating blow to the head from Anita, finally stopped him and his body went limp.
Lisa rolled off him and crawled a few feet away before she began to vomit. Shaking and crying, on her hands and knees, she heaved and retched again and again, bringing up nothing but acrid, foul-tasting bile. Her eyes streamed and snot drooled from her nose and mouth. She wiped it away with her sleeve.
Anita seemed to have taken this one more in her stride. She stood over the boy staring down at him, crowbar poised in case he should stir again. The dog went over to Brian, who was kneeling and examining his hand. It licked his face.
"Are you ok, Brian?" Anita asked.
"Yes, all things considered," Brian replied.
"Only a flesh wound, as they say," he almost joked.
Lisa glanced up at him, surprised by how jaunty he sounded. She was about to reply when the dog started growling again, low and threatening, looking towards the lean-to. They all looked in the same direction.
Standing in the doorway was what used to be a man. There was practically nothing about him that was recognisable as a human being. He was in his socks, which were still remarkably intact, but every inch of the rest of his face and body was ravaged and torn.
He had been tall and heavyset. He was wearing outdoor work clothes. They were ripped and torn, as was the flesh beneath. His legs and arms were mauled down to the bone in places. Ribbons of torn skin, muscle and tendons trailed on the floor behind him. The contents of his abdomen had tumbled out of a yawning wound and dangled between his legs. His face had gone, except for one eye hanging down his cheek.
It was amazing that he could stand, there was so little left of him that was solid, but he dragged himself towards them, arms outstretched, mouth open, not moaning like the others had been, but gurgling and rasping.
Anita strode over to him and, confidently swerving to avoid his grasp, plunged the sharp end of the crowbar into his forehead. He crumpled to the floor.
"Sorry, Matey." She pulled the bar out using her foot as a lever and wiped it clean on what was left of his shirt.
"I think we've worked out how to kill them."
She was learning fast, Lisa thought. Too fast for comfort, maybe.
The dog padded over and began sniffing and pawing at the body.
"Must be his owner," Brian observed. "He's a Springer … Springer Spaniel. Great farm dogs," he added.
"Random," Anita muttered. "Do you think there are any more?" she asked.
"Dogs?" asked Brian.
"Of them, you idiot! In there?" She gestured to the lean-to. "Or in the house?"
"He seems more settled." Brian ruffled the dog's fur. "I think he would sense it."
Lisa got wearily to her feet. She felt drained. She'd had more than enough for one day.
"There's only one way to find out, and we need to get help. We're completely out of our depths with this." She walked towards the door.
Anita pushed past her to look in the window. "Wait."
It was now so dark they could barely see anything inside, but there was no obvious movement.
Lisa rapped on the window. Nothing. But then the dog took matters into his own hands. He left his dead master and slipped in through the door. They heard him greedily slurping water inside.
"God, I need a drink too," Lisa followed him in.
She fumbled around the door frame, feeling in the dark for a light switch. Her fingers found it and flicked it down. The room filled reassuringly with light. They were in a large room with windows on two sides and patio doors on another. It was empty.
"Shut the curtains!" Anita hissed. "It's too bright!"
Working quickly, Lisa pulled the heavy curtains over the windows on the left, as Brian did the same on the right. Anita closed the blinds on the patio doors.
It was a huge space, surprisingly modern, open plan with a low beamed ceiling. On the left was a raised kitchen area with solid beechwood units and expensive granite worktops. Warmth radiated from the AGA on the far wall, along with the comforting aroma of something tasty cooking inside. In the middle of the room was a long dining table and chairs. Two places were set at one end, complete with an open bottle of red wine and two glasses.
The other half of the room was a cosy sitting area with three substantial sofas arranged around a low coffee table scattered with books and magazines. There was an unlit wood burner nestling inside a rustic red-brick fireplace and a flat screen TV in the corner.
Scanning the space quickly, Lisa headed to another closed door in the far corner of the kitchen area, hesitating with her hand on the doorknob, glancing questioningly at the other two.
