The road carried on through the countryside for a while. The turnoff to Marnie’s property was half an hour ahead, and Clare’s stomach tightened at the thought. They would be passing the exit, though, and driving on until the rural road merged onto the freeway that took her to Beth’s.
Less than four hours now. You made it this far. Keep your eyes on the road. Less than four hours, and you’ll know what happened to her. One way or another.
Chapter Twenty-One
Air created a faint, breathless whistle as it whipped over the damaged door. They were driving fast, but Clare wanted to go faster. Any time she increased the speed, the rattle returned, and she didn’t trust it enough to live with it. For the time, the car was moderating their speed.
Dorran snapped the first aid kit closed. She peeked at his bitten hand. He’d wrapped bandages around the cut, looping it over his thumb like a half glove. A hint of pink tinged the white wrappings. She hoped it would be enough.
“Where did you put the radio?” Dorran asked.
“Uh… it’s back there. I can’t remember where exactly. Why?”
Instead of replying, he turned to reach into the back seat. Clare slowed as Dorran braced his elbow on the back of her chair and used his good hand to sift through the supplies. It only took a few seconds for him to return, the black radio and a small leather pouch clutched to his chest.
“Be careful with your wrist,” she said.
He smiled as he opened the pouch and took out a small screwdriver. A moment later, the radio’s back popped off. He placed the machine on the dashboard and bent over it, screwdriver tip probing as he looked through the nest of cables.
“Do you think you can fix it?”
“Perhaps. I can try.”
Clare swallowed. If they could get in contact with Beth, they might be able to breathe a little more easily for the rest of the drive. They would at least know whether she was safe or not. How long she thought the air would last. Whether they needed to hurry. Whether they could afford to be cautious. Whether she’s still alive.
Dorran made a satisfied noise at the back of his throat, and a soft click echoed from the radio. “Do you have the batteries?”
“Yeah.” She fished them out of her pocket.
Dorran fed them into their slot then pressed a button to turn on the radio. Deafening white noise blasted through the car, and Clare flinched, squeezing her eyes closed as though that might save her eardrums. The noise faded to a low crackle as Dorran turned down the volume.
“It was just a bad connection.” He reattached the back then placed the radio onto the dashboard facing Clare. “Would you like to try calling her?”
One eye on the road, Clare checked the settings to ensure it was on Beth’s frequency. Then she activated the microphone. “Beth? It’s me. Clare. Can you hear me?”
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.