He dug his heels hard into the weary horse's flanks, but all he could get out of it was a burst of steaming breath and a shake of sweat. A cry caught in his throat. He wanted to wish himself somewhere else, he wanted his parents, but the shakes that swept through him drove everything away.
Though the blasting wind made his eyes sting, he kept his gaze fixed on the wet road ahead, but soon his peripheral vision was picking up motion. He was caught in a pincer movement. Some of them could have had him then, but they were waiting for the others to catch up. Briefly, the hellish whistling faded, but that was only because it was drowned beneath the constant low shriek that rolled out of his own mouth. Dignity no longer mattered, only his poor, pathetic life.
And then the things were at the side of the road, tracking the horse with wild bounds. With rolling eyes and flaring nostrils, his mount found some reservoir of energy.
In a brief instant of lucidity, he remembered the cricket bat. His panic made him yank at it so wildly that the clothes line caught around his neck. Frantically, he tried to rip it free, but it was plastic and wouldn't break. His actions became even more lunatic until, miraculously, the makeshift weapon came loose. He whirled, ready to beat off the first of the wave.
One of the things was already at his side. It moved with the easy grace and awkwardness of a monkey, long arms flipping it forwards as fast as the horse could gallop. It had orange-red fur like an orang-utan and it reeked of rotting fish. Then it turned its head towards him and it had the face of a child.
It said, in its infant voice, 'Your mother has cancer. You will never see her again.'
He almost fell from the horse in shock. A thought… a secret fear… plucked from the depths of his mind. The creature bared its teeth — a horrifying image in the innocent face — and then it launched itself at him. He brought the bat down sharply, but as the creature caught on to the saddle its long arm snaked up, snatched the bat from his grip and snapped it in two with the force of one hand.
His shrieks rose above the wind as he attempted to slap the thing away with the hand that wasn't clutching the reins. It was an emasculated gesture, filled with hopelessness; the creature didn't even attempt to defend itself. It brought its young-boy face up closer and the big eyes blinked. As he stared into their depths, he was sickened by the incongruous sight of something hideously old and filled with ancient fury. The beast bared its teeth again, ready to attack.
He threw back his head and cried out to God. In a burst of blind luck, his flailing arms caught the creature under the chin just as it jumped and it flipped head over tail behind him. It did him little good; the other beasts were already preparing to rush in.
Above the wind and the whistling came the throaty rumble of a car engine. At first, he barely recognised it, so lost to his terror was he; and it had been an age since he had heard that sound. But as it roared closer and bright light splayed all around him, he looked back in disbelief. Twin beams cut a swathe through the creatures as they scrambled to avoid the light. Whoever was driving floored the pedal, swerving across the road to hit the beasts slowest at getting out of the way. He winced: their screams actually sounded like those of small children.
A body slammed across the bonnet, leaving a deep dent. Another turned part of the windscreen to frost. Others were flattened, mid-scream, beneath the wheels.
The headlights burned towards him as the car accelerated. He wasn't going to be torn apart by a pack of supernatural creatures, he was going to be run down in a world where you rarely saw a car any more. The irony didn't really have much time to register.
At the last moment, the car swerved until it was running alongside him. The black Porsche was still bright with showroom gleam. His mount jumped and shied in terror, almost throwing him under the wheels.
The passenger window slid down electronically and Mallory leaned across the seat while steering blindly; the rider squinted to make out his face. 'Are you doing this for sport?' Mallory called out.
The rider gave a comical goldfish gulp, his comprehension flowing treacle-thick.
Mallory shook his head dismissively, then re-adjusted the wheel as the car drifted dangerously close to the horse. 'You'd better get off that and get in here,' he called again.
His words broke through the rider's fug. Along the weed-clogged pavement the creatures were jumping up and down, their whistling unbearably shrill and threatening. The horse didn't want to be reined in, but the rider slowed it enough to dismount, wincing as he landed awkwardly on his left ankle. Mallory brought the Porsche to a screeching halt and flung the passenger door open. The rider gazed worriedly after his departing mount until Mallory yelled, 'It'll be fine. It's not horse meat they're after. You've got about two seconds to get in-'
The rider dived in and slammed the door. The creatures bounded closer in fury; it seemed as if they might even risk the light. As the car jolted off with a spin of wheels, the rider threw his head forwards into his hands, sobbing, 'Thank God.'
'Don't thank Him yet. I've been running on empty for the last mile or so. We'll never make it to Salisbury.' The rider noted Mallory's expensive black overcoat that looked as new as the car and couldn't mask his discomfort that both had plainly been looted.
' Mallory checked over his shoulder before reversing the Porsche at high speed, eventually swinging it around sharply through a hundred and eighty degrees. The rider clutched his stomach and groaned. 'Now, let's see if we can get some of those bastards.' Indecent pleasure crackled through Mallory's voice.
He hit the accelerator, popped the clutch and at the same time launched the car towards the edge of the road. Golden sparks showered all around as the undercarriage raked up the kerb. The rider squealed as the expensive car tore through long grass and bushes, then squealed more as the creatures failed to get out of the way. They slammed against the already fractured windscreen, their bodies bursting to coat the glass with blood so black it resembled ink.
The beasts were too intelligent to be victims for long. One of them dropped from an overhanging branch, clutching on to the windscreen with its phenomenally long arms. It fumbled for the spot where the glass was most frosted and hammered sharply. Tiny cubes showered over the rider, who threw up his hands to protect himself. The creature drove its arm through the hole it had created and clawed towards his face. The rider squealed again like a teenage girl and attempted to scramble into the back of the car. His eyes fixed on a shotgun lying across the rear seat just as Mallory shouted, 'Use the gun!'
The creature tore chunks out of the windscreen and thrust its head partway into the car. The black eyes ranged wildly in the freckled, pink- cheeked face, the teeth snapping furiously.
'I can't use a gun!' the rider shrieked.
'Give it here!' Mallory said with irritation. 'It's already loaded.'
The rider snatched up the shotgun and threw it at the driver as if it were red hot. Mallory cursed before grabbing it, and then in one simple movement he shouldered it, aimed and pulled the trigger. The thunderous blast in the confines of the car made their ears ring. The creature's faceless body flapped at the windscreen like a piece of cloth before the air currents dragged it away behind.
The cold night air rushing through the hole cleared the rider's senses. 'Where can we go?' he whimpered.
Mallory accelerated from the trees along the road out of Salisbury. He pointed to the silhouette of Old Sarum towering over the landscape.
The car died on them on the steep slope to the car park between the high banks of prehistoric ramparts constructed for defence more than 2,500 years earlier. Jumping into the driving rain, Mallory and the rider headed along the road, which ran straight for around four hundred and fifty feet to a wooden bridge across a deep inner ditch. Beyond were the ruins of the Norman castle built in the heart of the Iron-Age hill-fort. Although the car hadn't taken them far, they'd earned themselves enough breathing space to cover the remaining distance on foot.
'Shouldn't be long till dawn,' Mallory said as they ran, head down against the deluge. 'They'll leave us alone at first light.'
The rider was finding it hard to keep up with his twisted ankle. 'How do you know?'
'I don't.'
'Are you sure we'll find somewhere to hide out up there?'
'No, but we haven't got much choice, have we? Unless you want to stand and fight?'
The rider didn't answer.
They came to the wooden bridge barred by a gate with signs warning of the dangers of crumbling ancient monuments. Mallory laughed, then hauled himself over, yanking the rider behind him.
The whistling assailed them as they ran through the broken remains of the gatehouse; the wild shapes were
