about the end of our entire way of life.'
'So it's not about Marianne, then?' Laura chipped in pointedly from the back seat.
Church didn't respond.
The storm didn't seem to be abating. Muscles aching from being hunched over the wheel trying to peer through the driving rain, Church eventually drew off the motorway into the Taunton Deane services. He stretched out the stress knots in his back, then turned on the radio and searched for some report about the crisis at the hospital; he wanted to know how they were going to explain it. But the Radio 4 news only carried a couple of dull political stories, one about a sharp dip on the FTSE and a report about the police investigation into the horrific knife murders in the north-west; even the local stations made no mention of it.
'There's something wrong here,' he said. 'The news must have got out by now.'
'Maybe they're covering it up,' Ruth suggested.
They went to the restaurant for a drink and an attempt to plan their next step. It was empty, apart from one bored youth on the checkout, and with the storm blasting in the dark night, it felt like they had been marooned on a comfortless island.
While Ruth and Laura went to the toilet, Church brooded over his coffee. Although there were three of them, he felt the responsibility for success or failure was increasingly being heaped on his shoulders. For some reason he had been singled out-by Tom, by the woman in the Watchtower-and he really didn't know if he were up to what was expected of him. But he accepted, whatever the outcome, that he couldn't turn his back on the responsibility; he had always firmly believed in facing up to obligation.
Carefully, he drew out the Black Rose and examined it closely; it hadn't wilted in the slightest. The petals were warm and silky, almost luxurious to the touch, and the scent, if anything, was even more heady. He hadn't questioned the gift of the flower before, but if he heeded the young Marianne's advice about forgetting the past and enjoying the present, he knew he should throw it away; no good could possibly come of it. He brought it up to his lips, kissed it absently, traced it across his cheek as he weighed up his choice. Then he slipped it back into his pocket.
Church sipped his coffee, listening to the hiss of cars speeding by outside. Perhaps it was just the weather, but there seemed to be less traffic using the motorway than he would have expected for the time of year. He wondered if the change coming over the country was starting to affect people subconsciously, an unspecified unease that nagged away at them constantly. Lightning flashed, a clap of thunder rumbled loudly; the storm was directly overhead.
But as the peal died away, Church thought he heard something else, mingling with the noise, continuing for just a split second longer. It left the hairs on the back of his neck standing erect. He stood up and walked over to the window; beyond the dismal lights of the car park, the wooded hillsides clustered darkly.
He returned to his table, but couldn't settle. It bothered him that he was jumping at the slightest sound. When the rumbling thunder made the windows boom once more, he listened carefully, but there was no subsequent sound. Yet he was sure he had heard it before. And it had sounded like the howl of a dog.
'So do you think he's going to lose it?' Laura said above the whir of the hand-drier.
Ruth leaned against the wash basins, her arms folded. 'He's got his problems, but nothing he can't handle.'
'You saw him when he came out of the hospital-'
'Hardly surprising after seeing all that suffering. If you had any kind of heart you'd understand-'
'I understand all right. But it wasn't just those people dying. It was the girl. He's got her all mixed up in his head with that dead girlfriend of his.' The drier died and suddenly the toilet seemed unnervingly lonely, trapped in the uncomfortable glare of the artificial lights. 'This isn't some nice jaunt to see the sights. It's life or death and a hundred other cliches. We can't afford someone tripping us up because they're too lost in their head.'
'What do you suggest? We dump him?' Ruth led the way out into the main corridor. There were a few travellers, but no one was hanging around; they all seemed eager to get back to their cars, back to their homes.
'Aren't we Frosty the Snowman? Bothered that I'm attacking your boyfriend?' Ruth flinched at the lash of Laura's mockery. 'I'm saying we keep an eye on him. Rein him in if he gets too freaky.'
'He'll be fine,' Ruth said coldly. 'You just worry about yourself. For a change.'
Lightning lit up the car park like a searchlight. Ruth had gone on several steps before she noticed she was walking alone. Behind her, Laura was peering out into the night. 'I saw something,' she said. Ruth could tell it had unnerved her.
Cautiously they approached the electronic doors, which hummed open like magic. Stepping out into the area where the overhang of the roof protected them from the rain, they searched the car park. There seemed more cars than there were travellers in the services, but the night made it impossible to see if there was anyone inside them. Parts of the car park were already flooded and water was bubbling up out of the drains. Rain gusted across the open areas in sheets and overhead a rumble of thunder barely died away before another started. It was a bleakly unfriendly scene.
'Doesn't seem to be anyone out there,' Ruth ventured.
'It was big, on all fours. Like a shadow, shifting quickly.'
'You're sure it wasn't a trick of the lightning?'
Laura stepped out into the full force of the rain. It plastered her blonde hair on to her head within seconds. 'There's something moving. Out among the cars.'
'How can you see? It's so dark.' Ruth joined her in the rain. The pounding droplets were heavy and icy, forcing their way down the back of her neck, soaking her jeans. 'I don't think we should-'
'You scurry back to be with your boyfriend if you like.'
Ruth felt like punching her. 'Oh yes. Real smart to put ourselves at risk when we could be the only ones with a chance to stop the world going to hell.'
'You do what you want. I'm not hiding away.'
An incongruous note in Laura's voice made Ruth suddenly aware there was more at play than mere bravado. 'And what are you planning to do when you discover what's out there?'
Without answering, Laura set off with Ruth close behind, regretting every step, but unable to let Laura go into the dark alone. She felt a spark of primal fear. Amidst the pounding of the rain, the wild gusting of the wind and the susurration of car wheels on the motorway, any sound of movement in the car park was drowned out; the lights seemed too dim to dispel the deeper shadows.
There were some twenty cars which could provide a hiding place for what ever Laura had seen. A few were scattered at random around the car park, but most were clustered together in the centre. By the time they reached the first one, their clinging clothes were hampering them. As they passed some of the vehicles they glimpsed an occasional pale face staring out, hands gripping steering wheels as if the drivers were afraid to move away from the oasis of light offered by the service station.
'I still don't see anything,' Ruth said, but almost as soon as her words were lost to the wind and rain they heard a low, rumbling growl, like distant thunder. Ruth clutched at Laura's arm and they both froze, unable to tell the direction of the noise. 'An animal,' Ruth said.
'You're so sharp you'll cut yourself.' Laura's mockery was drained of its usual acid.
'I think we should get back,' Ruth said. Laura hesitated, then nodded, but as they turned, a shape flashed between them and the building. Ruth caught a glimpse of something burning red, like hot coals.
Moving quickly over to one side, they tried for an elliptical route back to the light. Another growl, closer at hand this time, turned into a chilling howl.
'Shit!' Laura hissed.
Ruth thought: It's hunting.
And then they were running, the splashing of their feet accompanied by the thunder of powerful paws. Whatever it was crashed into a car in front with such force the side crumpled and it spun into their path. Ruth stifled a scream. They darted sideways between two other cars, no longer knowing in which direction they were running. Along the way, Laura slammed into a wing mirror and careened into the other vehicle. Ruth was already several feet away before she realised Laura had slipped to her knees.
As she turned she caught sight of the black shape, as big as a small pony; it shifted its bulk and started to run. If it hit the nearest car, Laura would be crushed between them. Without thinking, Ruth sprinted back as Laura
