Coldbrook (Hammer)(39)

‘Yeah,’ Vic said, taking a chance, because he really needed to get away. Silence descended for a few long seconds.

‘Just what the f*ck have you guys gone an’ done down there?’ Sheriff Blanks asked again.

‘I’ve heard talk about what they done,’ the young cop said. ‘Blasting holes into other places, that’s what. Letting stuff out. Just like in The Mist.’

‘There’s no mist,’ Vic said, unsure of what he meant.

‘Fiddling with stuff you shouldn’t?’ the woman said. Vic bet she wished she’d given him that ticket now. She’d laughed at the idea of zombies, but she knew there was something very wrong. She was that perceptive, at least. No one could look as shocked as Vic, nor act that edgy, without something being wrong.

‘You leavin’ town?’ the sheriff asked.

‘Yeah,’ Vic said, nodding. ‘Had a trip planned for a couple of days, and—’

‘Don’t bullshit me, son. You’re running.’

Vic did not reply, and silence descended again, broken only by the creak of the young male cop’s shoes as he shifted left, right, left.

‘Okay,’ the sheriff said eventually. ‘Okay.’ And Vic heard the decision in his voice. He listened, he heard, and now I can go.

‘Might only be one or two of them,’ Vic said.

‘We’ll need a statement,’ the woman cop said, and then the phone rang and she snatched it up. ‘Sheriff’s office.’ She was silent for a while, her eyes flicking from Blanks to Vic, back again. ‘Okay, keep the doors locked, get upstairs, we’ll be right there. Got a firearm? Okay. Okay.’ She hung up.

‘What?’ the sheriff asked.

‘Pete Crowther, the farmer. Says two men and a woman’re trying to break into his house. Says one of them’s had an arm torn off, and the woman looks like she’s bin run down.’ Her pretty face had paled, and she kept glancing at Vic as she talked. ‘Says they’re like animals, but quiet. ‘Part from the hootin’.’

‘Hooting?’

Vic backed towards the door, the sheriff staring at him, and when he felt the cold wood at his back the policewoman came for him, still afraid but with a purpose in mind. She had one arm behind her back, reaching for her handcuffs.

‘Let the f*cker run,’ Blanks said, and he stormed through a door behind the desk.

Vic turned and pushed his way out, feeling the policewoman’s stare on his back. When he emerged onto the sunlit front steps, Lucy was leaning from the passenger window of the RAV4, Olivia’s small face pressed against the back window.

‘What?’ Lucy asked immediately.

‘Nothing.’ Vic ran down the steps and around the front of the vehicle, and as he was opening the driver’s door he heard the roar of a motor. He climbed into the car and slammed his door, hitting the central locking button in case the sheriff changed his mind. If he does, it’s pedal down – the idea of fleeing the law was somehow more unsettling than anything. It was an indicator of how much had changed so quickly. Three hours ago I was asleep, he thought, and his dead sister’s face loomed at him again.

‘I love you,’ he said, turning to his wife.

She caught her breath, surprised. Her eyes watered. Vic leaned across to kiss her and, though she barely responded, she didn’t pull away.

‘Mommy and Daddy, loving it up!’ Lucy called, and Olivia’s laughter was the greatest gift Vic could have asked for right then.

A police cruiser emerged from beside the station and stopped directly in front of the RAV4. The sheriff sat in the driver’s seat, the policewoman beside him, and he stared at Vic as he spoke into the car’s radio. As he pulled away and powered off down the street, Lucy asked, ‘What was that all about?’

‘Out on a call,’ Vic said. He started the car and swung it around, and as he headed onto the road leading north out of town he hoped the sheriff had listened to the message he’d relayed from Jonah: shoot them in the head.

Says they’re like wild animals, but quiet. Suddenly, zombies no longer sounded so absurd.

‘Look, Daddy!’ Olivia said, pointing, and Vic skidded to a stop. With the roads still quiet, the whukka-whukka sound of three Chinooks heading south-west towards Coldbrook was almost ghostly.

He drove fast and hard, trying to lay down distance between his family and whatever he had let escape.

It was nine o’clock in the morning.