“They might have dug a hole or broken through the walls,” Dorran whispered. “Look for the other entrance. We might be able to get out while they’re focussed on the main door.”
They moved away from the shuddering wood and silently stepped between the support beams and dividing walls. Clare cradled the radio against her chest as they passed Dorran’s motor. He’d placed it on the sheet, ready to carry it out, along with a stack of tools and supplies. She hated to think that they might have to leave it behind.
A cold breeze stung her cheeks. Clare turned in its direction and beckoned to Dorran. They stepped around the shell of a vehicle, its seats and innards gutted, and Clare caught the glow of pale light splashed across the floor.
In the shed’s corner, half hidden behind a tangle of barbed wire, the wood had rotted. Hollows had clawed at the decaying walls and floors, creating a hole that was just barely large enough for a person to squirm between. Clare crouched to look through. There was no snow blocking the other side. Cold light glared off muddy ground.
“Clare.” Beth was crying. “I need to talk to you.”
Biting her lip until it ached, Clare fumbled with the radio’s settings. She couldn’t answer; the noise would give them away. Instead, she flipped a switch, muting Beth.
Dorran held up a finger for her to wait, then he dropped to his chest and crawled beneath the barbed wire. He moved quickly but carefully, pipe held at the ready, as he approached the gap. His forearms passed through, then he froze.
“Dorran?” Clare whispered.
He lurched back, pulling away from the splintered gap too quickly. The barbed wire caught across the mask. A long, bowed arm shot through the hole after him, snatching at his face.
Clare moved without thinking. She smashed the radio down onto the hand, hard enough to crush bone. The tough plastic case fractured, and the volume boomed. Suddenly, Clare couldn’t hear herself underneath the popping, hissing white noise.
“Go!” Dorran yelled, shoving her. He wrenched himself out from the wire, leaving the mask behind. Specks of blood flecked across Clare’s arm. She turned and ran deeper into the barn as an elongated, hissing face peered through the opening.
“No, no,” Clare whispered. She pressed the volume buttons. It wouldn’t quieten. Beth’s breathing echoed around them.
“Clare.” Magnified, the regret and sadness in Beth’s voice was unbearable.
The hollows responded to the word. Metal scraped as they fought to get through the barbed wire. Up ahead, the sliding door jumped on its runners. Arms stretched through the gap, blindly grasping at the air.
The radio wouldn’t turn off. She had no choice. She dropped it and flinched as it hit the wood floor with a clatter. Dorran grasped her hand, and together, they ran for the stairs leading to the loft. Their footsteps were drowned out by Beth’s echoing words.
“I really need to talk to you, sweetheart. Please.” She took a tight breath. “It’s… things… things aren’t great here.”
They were halfway up the stairs. The door shuddered as it was nearly wrenched off its frame. Clare kept her eyes ahead, focussed on the upper landing, the graveyard for the unknown hollow.
As they gained the loft, Dorran tugged her downwards. They dropped to their knees and crawled through the bones and dried gore to reach the back wall. They didn’t stop moving until they were under the window. Out of sight of the main floor, they pressed their backs to the wall and watched the top of the stairs, their legs pulled close to their chests.
The door banged again. Then the struggling noises transformed into something much worse. Flesh rubbing over flesh. Clare imagined them pouring through the gap, tumbling over each other in their eagerness for food. How many? her mind asked then answered itself with, Too many.
“I don’t have long, sweetheart.” Beth’s voice carried clearly through the building, even under the pattering feet and scrabbling fingers. “The… the ventilation system went down this morning. The bunker is airtight. I can’t…” She took another ragged breath. “The only way to get fresh air would be to open the door. And…”
No. No. Clare shook her head, her heart hammering. The fencing mask was suddenly suffocating her; she wrenched it off.
“I hope you can hear me. I hope you’re all right. I don’t know how long the air will last me. I’ll stay as long as I can. But… I’ll see. I’ll see. It might be easier to get it over with quickly.”
Clare wanted to scream. The radio was out of reach. She could hear the hollows moving over it, searching for the source of the voice. She leaned forward. Dorran pulled on her arm, dragging her back, holding her still.
“I think this might be goodbye, though.” Beth said it as though she’d only just realised it herself. For a beat, the only noise came from the monsters—the raw, close sounds of the creatures in the barn and the distant, tinny noise of hollows prying at Beth’s bunker door. Then she took a shuddering breath. “Don’t come looking for me. I know you want to, but you can’t. Stay where you are. Stay safe. And I want you to know… I… I love you. So much. If I’ve done anything to hurt you—if there’s anything you regret… about how I raised you… or anything I did…”
Clare was drowning. Tears dripped off her chin. She wanted to scream to her sister. The noises were physical pains inside her, aching worse with every second she held them in.
“I’m so sorry. I love you. Goodbye.”
The radio clicked. Steady, harsh static took its place. It wasn’t loud enough to drown out the furious chatter or the sounds of the hollows spreading across the ground floor.
Chapter Fifteen
No. Please. Beth. No.
Dorran moved his hand over her mouth. She realised she was moaning. She couldn’t stop. He muffled the noise as he rocked her, whispering into
