A grating wail echoed from their right. Like a damaged foghorn, it broke and faded on its last notes. She and Dorran increased their pace. Clare’s muscles were already aching. The sled jostled on uneven ground, its contents threatening to shake free.
Clumps of wet snow, sheltered by the trees, hung around roots and between piles of pine needles. Their boots plunged into deeper mud as the path turned downhill. It stuck around Clare’s feet, trying to hold her in place and making wet noises every time she pulled free. Hundreds of tiny streams washed between ancient roots, carrying away the slush.
A dead branch the width of Clare’s arm plunged from the canopy, smacking into the ground ahead of them. They barely slowed their pace. Dorran kicked the branch out of the sled’s path. As they passed it, Clare couldn’t stop herself from looking up. A bow-legged shape clung to the trees above them.
Not far. We’re nearly at the car. Then there is only four hours to Beth’s. That’s all. We can handle four hours.
Every fear and doubt that had plagued Clare during the last days rushed back in, redoubled. Will Beth still be there? Will the masks be enough to reach her bunker without being attacked? And what if the air is toxic outside the forest? What if we get ten minutes away and start turning into hollows? Will it hurt? Will I know what’s happening? What if I stay conscious after the change, like Madeline Morthorne? I couldn’t live as a monster… or stand seeing Dorran become one beside me.
Dorran was breathing heavily. She didn’t think it was just the exercise, either. The stress was getting to both of them. She wanted to talk to him, to tell him everything would be all right, to thank him for coming with her. But every second, the creaking noises around them seemed to be growing closer.
How many are there?
The mask was too thick, and the clothes were too heavy. Sweat trickled down Clare’s cheek. It itched, and she shook her head but had no way to scratch it. The lowest layer of clothes was starting to stick to her back. She didn’t think she could go much farther without resting. But if she stopped, the hollows would converge on them, creeping nearer, their wild eyes trying to see through the mesh.
Then all of a sudden, they were on the main road. Even without the snow disguising it, the entry came up unexpectedly.
They turned left. A figure stood in the middle of the road. Patches of hair sprouted from its body, the strands growing as long as the sparse hair on its head. It trailed from its arms, torso, and legs. Gossamer thin and straggly, it had already become tangled by mud.
Clare looked up at Dorran. She wished she could see his face. He held still for a moment, watching, then tugged on the rope again. They were going to try to pass it.
Chapter Nineteen
The creature held perfectly still, except for its head. Its long neck turned so that the unblinking eyes were always fastened on Clare and Dorran. They kept as close to the road’s edge as they could manage. The sled scraped painfully against the asphalt, and the noise keyed Clare’s nerves tight. Her weapon was on top of the sled, but she didn’t dare reach for it. She clamped her teeth together until her jaw ached.
Beyond the hollow, she could see the car. Her poor red hatchback was suspended on the side of the road, passenger door hanging open, front end crushed from where it had impacted one of the massive pines. The rain hadn’t been kind to it. Water glistened over its roof and dripped out of the crumpled bonnet, and she could already see that the seats would be drenched.
Can he really get it working again?
Dorran’s attention was focussed on the hollow. They were so close to the road’s edge that one side of the sled was threatening to tip into the ditch. The creature’s neck continued to swivel, holding them in its sights, and its lips parted to exhale a low, rumbling hiss.
The sweat coating Clare had turned cold. She kept her head down, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement ahead. A new hollow stood on the road just twenty meters past her car. This one was missing ribs. A gory hole in its chest gaped every time it breathed through ruined lungs. Bloody froth beaded at the corners of its mouth, but like its companion, it didn’t seem to feel the deformity. Its attention was directed wholly at Clare and Dorran.
Focus on the car. We just need to get it to work. Then there’s four hours to Beth’s. That’s all I need to think about.
The chattering in the forest grew louder. Clare knew that if she looked, she would see their eyes shining in the gloom. Every breath hurt her lungs. Every beat of her heart felt too hard, too pressured.
But they were past the first hollow and closing in on her car. Mud squelched behind her. She looked, and the hollow froze, its mud-caked hair swinging at the sharply aborted movement.
Damn it.
The masks were confusing them, but not deterring them. Clare reflexively checked the cloth around her neck. Underneath the fabric and metal, sweat trickled into her eye, and she blinked furiously, trying to clear it.
The sled ground to a halt beside the car. The noises around Clare seemed magnified. The chattering now came from half a dozen directions. The hollow ahead breathed heavily as red-flecked froth dribbled over its lip. Behind them, the other hollow took another scraping step closer.
Dorran bent close so that his metal mesh bumped against hers. At that proximity, she could see his dark eyes and long lashes, damp with sweat. He
