There was a large skip to my right. I started towards it, thinking that there might be some rope inside it that I could use. Then I glanced at my still-glowing fingertips again. Maybe, maybe…
I drew in a deep breath and wiggled them, one after the other. I squinted towards the trolleys and envisaged my own magical rope, looping around each finger. I felt another strange surge of pressure inside me but nothing else happened. Gritting my teeth, I tried again. Still nothing.
‘Come on, Charley,’ I muttered. ‘Third time lucky.’ I focused, trying to remember the mindfulness techniques that Lizzy had forced upon me a while back to help me pay attention during marathon poker sessions. Three, two…
The sky filled with blue light that flared across the horizon as if a bomb had gone off. I gasped, my chest tightening. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything. Oh God. Oh God.
There was another moan from the trolley. The girl raised her eyes and stared at me. ‘Was that you?’ she whispered.
I shook my head. ‘No. I don’t think so.’ I bloody hoped not: that blue light had exploded across the entire city.
‘Hey!’ I half turned. From the side of the supermarket, two of Max’s kids were running towards me. Truth be told, it was less of a run and more of a stagger but my stomach still dropped. They were on their way. We had to get going.
‘Get off!’ I screeched at the girl, pulling at her until she was half falling, half climbing out of the trolley. ‘You take this one. I’ll take the other two. We have to get out of here now!’
‘But…’
‘Do it!’
She flinched and I instantly regretted my harsh tone but there wasn’t time for niceties. At least the trolley would help bear her weight as she ran. I pushed her to the back of it and placed her hands on the cool, metal handle. ‘Move!’ I nudged her. She staggered forward and I followed.
It was certainly a hell of a lot easier pushing two trolleys instead of three. Finally both of us were moving down the street and away into the night.
Chapter Ten
You know ex-directory? Well, I was ex-directory and then some. The guy I’d won the house from was too embarrassed to broadcast the fact, and I kept my address as secret as possible. I’d always made sure to stay off the radar; there was no telling what other gamblers with a grudge were capable of. Even without the likes of Max, it had seemed prudent to keep my address hidden. Obviously, the supermarket was local to me so the likelihood of being discovered by Max lingered over my head. Despite this, I was almost certain that he didn’t know where I lived.
Once the girl and I and gone far enough to be sure that we weren’t being followed, I finally relaxed and changed our course for home. I was still looking over my shoulder, though; the last thing we needed was for Max to follow us home and start battering down my door.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked the girl, when I was sure we had no would-be trackers.
When it came, her answer was so soft that it was barely audible even though there was no other sound apart from the trundling trolley wheels. ‘Cath.’
‘I’m Charley.’ I paused. ‘You’re coming home with me and then we’ll sort out what’s best for you. How did you end up with that bunch?’
‘Long story,’ she whispered. She fell silent again, the expression on her face indicating that she didn’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t going to push her. If she wanted to talk, she would talk.
We wended our way through the silent streets. I was genuinely surprised when the first glow of sunrise appeared over the horizon; more time had passed than I’d realised. At least we were almost home. All in all, it had been a pretty successful trip.
We’d turned into my street, with its stripped-bare trees and burnt-out cars, when my hackles rose. There was a pile of what looked like old clothing on my doorstep. I waved at Cath, indicating that she should stay put, left the trolleys and edged forward. It was only when I got close that I realised it wasn’t a pile of dirty rags at all: it was a person. It couldn’t be a coincidence that it was my doorstep they’d chosen to collapse upon. With my heart in my mouth, I tiptoed up and knelt down.
Whoever it was, they were curled up into a tight ball with a threadbare blanket wrapped round them for warmth. I swallowed, hoping this wasn’t going to be a corpse. I took the edges of the blanket and gingerly peeled it away, noting the numerous dark bloodstains. This was not good. It was not good at all.
It took a moment to register who it was. I stared at the dark red curls and the broad shoulders that were shivering almost delicately. My mind wouldn’t connect the dots. Then I gasped. Shit. It was Monroe.
‘Jesus, what the hell happened to you?’
He moaned in answer. He had to be half dead. Cursing, I straightened up and opened the front door before beckoning to Cath, who was still waiting silently at the end of the street. ‘Help me get him inside!’ I called.
She skittered over, her face almost as pale as mine probably was. What did this mean? Had he failed to stop the apocalypse? If that were true, why were we still here? And where were Madrona and the other werewolves?
Cath took his feet while I took his head. Fortunately she was a lot stronger than she looked and together we carried him carefully through to the living room and laid him on the old – and sadly
