Static answered. Clare flexed her grip on the wheel as the seconds stretched out.
“We’re coming to get you, Beth. Less than four hours. Please, if you’re there, answer me.”
The white noise was like nails on a chalkboard to Clare’s nerves. The longer she listened, the worse the anxious ache in her chest grew. It was climbing into her throat, choking her.
“I can’t hear you, but if you’re there, wait for us. We’re not far off now. And… and wear a mask, if you can find one or make one. The hollows can’t recognise you if they can’t see skin. Okay?”
Hissing and popping was interspersed with nothing. Clare’s eyes burned. She pressed the button to end her side of the communication but couldn’t bring herself to turn off the radio entirely.
Dorran nudged the volume down until it was barely audible. They sat in silence for a moment, then he said, “Your sister kept her radio off except when she tried to speak with you. She may still be there.”
“Yes.” She smiled so fiercely that her cheeks ached but felt dangerously close to hyperventilating. “You’re right. Maybe she just can’t hear me.”
The car’s engine rattled again as Clare pushed it too hard, and she forced herself to slow down. She was glad Dorran didn’t try to talk. He let her drive in peace as they listened to the faint white noise.
Sickly clouds shifted across a steel-grey sky. A dark smear hovered at the horizon, and as they drew closer, it began to resolve into roofs and trees.
Clare knew the town. She drove through it every time she visited Beth. The closest shop, the one everyone passed on the outskirts of the community, had a bright-yellow billboard painted on the wall facing the road, advertising fish and chips. The eatery was at least two decades old, and the sign hadn’t been changed in all of that time. A smattering of graffiti tags marked the paint, and the colour had worn down in the sun. Clare had always promised herself that one day she would stop there and see what fish and chips tasted like from a shop that seemingly lived in a different generation. She’d never gotten around to it.
The town appeared to be empty. Clare slowed as she neared its outskirts and leaned over the wheel to watch the wide sidewalks and empty windows. Houses were mixed among stores in a haphazard arrangement. Land in that area was cheap, so the buildings all had an excess of space around them, usually filled with weeds or plain dirt. She’d always thought the town was cute, but now it left her feeling cold and queasy.
Power had gone out a long time before, and every window was black. Several doors hung open. A café still had its daily specials sign propped outside, half spilling into the road, but the chalk had run from the snow, and she could barely make out the promise of eggplant lasagne. Clare could only imagine that the lasagne was still inside, sitting on a kitchen bench, slowly rotting as it waited for customers who would never come.
It felt strange to see life suspended in that way. People had woken up on that last morning with nothing in their minds except getting through another day. The café’s cook would have come in early to prepare the lasagne. He might have doted over it, cooking something he knew would make the regular customers happy. Or maybe he’d rushed through the prep, cutting the eggplant slices too thick and not caring that the sauce was too watery. It was the last thing he would ever cook. Clare wondered whether he would he have prepared it differently if he had known.
Something moved down a side street. Clare kept the car at a steady, cautious speed but watched the shape. A skeletal figure hunched over a drain at the end of the road twisted to stare at them with bulbous eyes.
There are hollows here too.
It made sense. If there had been humans, there would be hollows. As they moved deeper through the town, deformed creatures appeared in the open doorways, attracted by the motor’s rumble and curious about a potential meal. Several tried to follow the car, clambering awkwardly on too-long limbs or scuttling on all fours. Clare watched them in her rearview mirror and increased her speed to outpace them.
They approached a petrol station at the edge of town. Clare licked her lips. “Did you put all of the fuel into the tank?”
“Yes. All of it.”
The indicator on her dashboard was half full. That would get them to Beth’s. It probably wouldn’t be enough to take them home, though. She wondered if there was any way to get petrol out of the station without power to pump it up from the wells.
It was a moot question, either way. A pack of hollows were still following them, and shimmering eyes glittered from the shadows around the pumps. There was no room to stop.
Another forty minutes would bring them to the freeway. From there, it was a smooth, straight drive of about two hours to reach her sister’s. The freeway was raised, which meant flooding shouldn’t have affected it. As long as the roads weren’t blocked, Clare thought they would be okay.
She increased her speed as they left town. The shapes continued to scramble after them, and Clare watched them until they became too small to see. How long will they try to follow us? Until they can’t hear or see us? Longer? Is it possible the ones from the forest are still coming down that road, intent on a feast they believe they can still catch?
She shook her head to clear it. The idea of having their nightmares catch up to them if they ever stopped for too long wasn’t appealing. Again, she filed it into the bucket of problems that had no solutions.
Melancholy wouldn’t help them. She tried to look for the positives instead. The car was working.
