Ravage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(9)

He rushed out of the bedroom and slammed the door closed behind him. Deana crashed against the other side, shaking the wood on its hinges. She banged her fists against it and let out another ear-piercing shriek. Nick didn’t know why she didn’t just use the door handle and continue coming after him, but he wasn’t about to complain about her lack of common sense. He used the opportunity to flee.

He needed to get help, call 999 again and again until someone finally answered him – but he couldn’t afford to just wait around for them to pick up the phone. His son and wife needed help right this instant.

It might already be too late for James.

Jesus save me!

Deana continued battering the bedroom door. All Nick could do to get away from the torturous sound was to go downstairs. He reached the ground floor hallway and realised he was naked but for his boxer shorts. Bloodstains covered his chest in murky smears. He headed through the kitchen, pausing at the threshold as he saw the body of his son lying on the tiles.

I’m in Hell. This is the Abyss.

Looking down at James’s tiny body, Nick knew that his son was dead. No ambulance or doctor would change that.

This can’t be happening.

He stumbled over to the kitchen sink and immediately vomited; mashed-up fish fingers and undigested baked beans. He twisted on the taps and watched the mess rinse into the plug hole. Then he splashed the cold water onto his face and chest, wiping away some of the blood. By the time he was finished, he was freezing and numb.

“I need to put some clothes on,” he said out loud. Hearing his own voice calmed him slightly, made him feel a little more in control of the situation.

Deana was still banging on the door upstairs and screeching like a banshee. There was no chance he was going to go into the bedroom to get clothes, so instead he headed across the kitchen.

He rummaged through the laundry basket on the breakfast table and pulled out a crinkled, grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He threw them on quickly, along with a pair of mismatched socks.

Then he began to sob.

And then wail.

And then scream.

He didn’t allow himself the luxury of crying for much more than a couple of minute. He could not condone sitting there and weeping while his son lay dead at his feet, and his wife was upstairs, flinging herself against the bedroom door like a mental patient.

I need to help her.

He had to get out of the house. It seemed like the only way to ensure help came was to go out and find it. James was dead, but Deana was not. She needed a doctor.

He got up and left the kitchen behind him, entering into the hallway. As he did so, an almighty crash came from the bedroom. He stopped at the bottom of the staircase in the hallway, staring up at the landing.

Deana appeared at the top, half-naked and snarling.

“Deana, just stay right where you are, okay?”

She hurtled down the steps towards him.

Nick wasted no time in sprinting inside the front porch and slamming the double-glazed interior door behind him. Deana’s face immediately smashed up against the glass panel, splitting the delicate flesh of her tanned cheeks and smearing blood everywhere. Nick was confident the PVC door would hold against the onslaught, but seeing his wife’s mangled face through the glass was more than he could bear. He slid his feet into the first pair of trainers he could find and pulled his long woollen overcoat from the wall pegs.

It was then that he realised the worst.

His wallet was in the bedroom.

And so were his car keys.

Damn it!

There was no point leaving the house without his keys. He wouldn’t get anywhere without a car. But how could he get back to the bedroom without Deana tearing him to shreds?

He turned back around to face the interior door. The glass panels were soaked with bloody chunks of flesh.

But Deana was gone.

Nick crept up to the glass and peered through. The hallway was dim and shadowy, but there seemed to be no sign of his wife anywhere.

Can I make it upstairs before she spots me? Maybe she’s gone to the kitchen. She may have seen James’s body and come to her senses.

Nick placed his hand on the door handle and began to turn it slowly. With every inch that the door opened, he paused and waited, seeing if Deana was hiding in the hallway.

He looked left.

He looked right.

It was all clear.

Where the hell did you go, Deana?

He pushed open the door and slid through the gap. The end of the hallway was illuminated by light coming from the kitchen, but the stairway and the upstairs hallway were shrouded in shadow. He placed a foot on the first step and paused, listening out for any warning signs. Then he took the second step. The third. The fourth.

He entered the hallway upstairs and all was still clear.

Darkness seemed to close around him like a blanket. The bedroom was just up ahead, the door hanging wide open. Nick picked up his pace and hurried towards it.

Out of habit, he went for the light switch as soon as he entered the room, but this time he stopped himself before pushing it.

Better to remain hidden in the dark.

He crept across the carpet and headed over to his bedside table where he knew he had left his wallet and keys. Sure enough, even in the dark, he found them. He picked them up and shoved them into his coat pocket.

That went easier than expected.

Nick turned around to leave.

Deana was right in front of him.