Watching You(111)

Sam turned round and glanced down at his Patek Philippe. He couldn’t quite see what time it was; gentle condensation was covering half the face.

He opened the door and looked up from his wrist.

There was a figure sitting with its back to them at one of the carpentry benches. Its hair was medium-length, thin and mousy, and it was perfectly dry.

‘Syl!’ Sam exclaimed. ‘Great. What have you found out?’

As he went towards the bench and walked round it he glanced back at Molly. She looked oddly pale.

Then he met Syl’s gaze.

It was broken; there was no one there. And out of her mouth hung a black sock, like a blackened tongue.

Then the heavens opened.