“So you came along with Jake and me,” said Joe, shaking his head. “I assure you, Frank. I have not touched Anne, or even thought about.”
Frank nodded and hung his head again. His shoulders shook as sobs escaped him.
“Frank, this isn’t the time. We’ve come this far. All we have to do is drive the car into that portal outside. We’ve seen it! It’s there.”
Joe stepped towards him.
“We’ve made a good team so far. Jake too. We can beat him, but we need to get moving. Are you all right now?”
Frank gazed up.
“I’m better, I think. Thank you, Joe. I had all this inside me and, well I guess I should have talked about it sooner.”
“No problem. Can we finish this now?”
Frank climbed from the floor.
“Yes,” said Frank, thrusting the knife into Joe.
12.
White-hot pain shot through the front of Joe’s shoulder. Releasing Frank’s hand, he staggered back, stumbling over wrecked furniture.
Frank kept hold of the bloodied knife and chuckled. He climbed to his feet.
Blood poured from the wound, soaking the cotton of Joe’s T-shirt to the waistband of his jeans. Joe clamped his other hand over his shoulder, crying out, pressing the opened flesh.
“Won’t be long now,” said Frank. His manic stare darted around the room, not seeming to focus on Joe. He released a high-pitched chortle, sounding like a hyena. “Not long now.”
Joe winced as a wave of nausea swept over him. He swallowed the saliva that pooled in his mouth and groaned. Swaying on his feet, he backed up closer to the door.
He’s crazy
, he thought.
Ladies and gentlemen, Frank Harper has left the building.
“Just another little cut here and there,” raved Frank, licking his lips, “and the job’s finished. Think I’ll see the mana rise out of you, McGuire? Eh? You think that?”
Joe staggered further back, swallowing again.
“And after you, I’ll have the pleasure of dealing with that whore. That will be fun…so much fun…”
Anne? He’s going to kill Anne?
I have to get away from him.
Joe spun around and lurched to the door. The room seemed to rock around him.
Oh Christ
, he thought. Even the voice inside his head sounded groggy and slurred. He put a hand to the wall, which sent a bolt of fire through his shoulder.
“You can’t get away!” came Frank’s mocking voice from behind. “He won’t let you. You’re mine!”
I’m at the door. A few more steps and I’m out. If I can just get to the front…
He stepped forwards into the doorway.
Several bulbous eyes stared up at him from the hall carpet.
No! Oh please no!
The Prowlers darted forwards.
Joe backed into the living room, slamming the door closed. He leaned back against it.
Frank still stood in the corner, a lunatic’s grin splashed across his face, pointing the knife at Joe’s heart.
“See, McGuire? He won’t let you leave.”
Joe’s vision blurred and he blinked away the gathering tears. Thuds from the other side of the door sent vibrations coursing through his body. The stream of blood had thinned to a trickle down his chest.
“No, Frank,” Joe screamed. “Don’t do this. You can’t trust him!”
“It’s you I can’t trust. You and her.” He started forwards. “But enough talk. Time is running out.”
Frank covered the short distance across the living room in seconds, the knife drifting back and forth, a lethal pendulum.
Joe stepped away from the door to push Frank back with his good arm. Laughing, Frank staggered back a few feet. Hearing the door open, Joe leaned back again, his weight against the wood. The pressure from the other side increased with every passing second.
Frank screamed, pouncing at Joe with the knife held high.
With his escape route blocked, Joe ducked to his left.
With the resistance gone, the door swung open.
Frank stopped dead, staring at the black wall of eyes and claws that filled the doorway.
“What the…?”
The darkness rushed him; a blur of snapping claws.
Clutching his shoulder, Joe watched Frank fall to the floor, the Prowlers swarming. The ripping of fabric sounded over the excited chirps of the creatures and the
snip-snap-snip
of their claws. Frank screamed, thrashing around and whipping the knife through the air. He managed to take out a few, slicing off claws and legs or puncturing eyeballs, but the slain were immediately replaced by more, rushing through the door. His screams became a wet gurgle. The Prowlers chirped on regardless.
Joe staggered around the edge of the room, avoiding the carnage at the centre.
The Prowlers seemed too occupied with Frank to pay him any attention. Joe hoped it would stay that way.
They’re like sharks
, he thought, sidling along the wall.
A whiff of blood drives them frenzied.
The claws of the Prowlers dripped deep scarlet. A pool of blood began to spread from the gathered group, darkening the carpet. Frank’s body remained hidden beneath the chirping mass.
No-one could go through this and not be screaming
, Joe thought.
He’s dead.
He bent down and picked up what remained of the coffee table. He strained to pick it up with one hand, not daring to aggravate his injured shoulder. With a grunt, he swung the heavy chunk of wood up and let go. It flew across the room and smashed the window.
A screech cut through the room, followed by a spell of clicks and chirps. The Prowlers had noticed him, the sound of shattering glass disturbing their fun.
Easy, no sudden movements…
He blew out a long breath and inched towards the window.
Stay there, nothing to bother with over here, nothing at all.
Another step.
Just me getting the hell out of here. Don’t mind me…
Another screech, and a Prowler shot forwards, starting a stampede. The small creatures flocked across the carpet towards Joe, easily crawling over the obstacles of scattered furniture.
Joe turned from the advancing horde and, trying to block out the pain from his screaming shoulder, ran for the broken window. Jumping through, hands before his face, he knocked the remaining shards of glass free of the frame. The points of glass nicked at his T-shirt, jeans and exposed skin. Some broke off and landed in his hair like shiny dandruff.
Joe’s feet hit the loamy soil of the flowerbed beneath the window. He fell forwards and cried out as his shoulder thumped against the ground.
The Prowlers crept out of the window.
Joe leapt to his feet and ran across his grandmother’s immaculate garden, fumbling the car keys from his pocket.
Close behind, the Prowlers dashed across the grass.
Joe reached the end of the garden and crossed the pavement. He jumped over his car door, both feet landing in the driver’s seat. The sweet tang of petrol flooded his nose.
He scrambled down, his feet banging against the pedals as his rear fell into the seat. With the keys grasped in his right hand, he tried to find the ignition.
He looked to the side. The advancing black tide had reached the end of the garden.
“Damn it!”
The key hit the metal with a click, but failed to find the hole. The simple task of shoving the key into the ignition was usually accomplished first time, so well-practised he barely thought about it. Finally, the key slipped and found the ignition, the metal plunging into the hole. Joe gave it a firm twist and pumped the accelerator.
The car rumbled to life.
He dropped the handbrake and pushed the gear into first with a shaking hand. He slammed his foot down.
The car shot forwards, just as the claws of the leading Prowler reached the tyres.
Joe gripped the steering wheel tight, gaze locked on the circling area of road further up the street. He kept the car in first gear, despite the high-pitched whine from under the bonnet.
The Prowlers followed, screeching and snapping their claws in the air.
The car fast approached the whirlpool.
This is going to hurt
, Joe realised.
It’s going to hurt a lot…
He released his foot from the accelerator. Still clutching the wheel to hold the car straight, he climbed onto his seat and crouched on the padded leather.
He shook, the adrenaline coursing through his system and sending his heart into overdrive. Screaming, he pushed hard with his legs against the seat and released the wheel. The car whipped away beneath him as he jumped.
Joe turned in the air and struck the ground. Pain burst through his ribs. His ankle struck the road with a sickening snap.
Joe roared, rolling to a stop. He lay panting on his back, staring up at the cloudless sky. He heard the approach of the Prowlers. The fire in his ankle throbbed. He suspected it had broken, maybe a few ribs too.
At least I get to watch that bastard’s portal get blown to high heaven.
He watched as the car continued up the street. Without the accelerator pedal depressed, it slowed considerably, but still moved at a good pace. The front tyres passed from solid to liquid road.
“Go on,” prayed Joe. “Go on!”
The car splashed into the black whirlpool. The front end plunged in, and the rear of the car bounced upwards. The road splashed across the bonnet and speckled the windscreen like tar. A second later, the rear crashed back down.
Joe braced himself.
A mighty, dark wave cascaded out from underneath the car, flowing out to the very edge of the road. The car bobbed a little.
“Go on,” shouted Joe again. He heaved in a great breath as pain ripped through his chest. “Blow!”
The car levelled and floated on the surface.
It hasn’t worked. It was for nothing! All this was for nothing!
The vehicle drifted, slowly turning on the currents of the whirlpool.
Joe turned his head the other way.
The Prowlers had slowed their advance up the street, as if they knew he was a sitting duck. They could afford to take their time.
Still full of Frank
, thought Joe with a grimace. He rested his head back on the road and closed his eyes.
All this for nothing! Nothing!
His eyes sprang open again at the growing sound of an engine from the top of the street.
Jake?
He tried to sit up, but agony flared in his chest. He fell back down and turned his head.
A moment later, Jake’s bike turned the corner and sped down the street.
Joe watched as Jake, clutching onto the handlebars with his right hand, raised something in his left. It sparkled gold in the sun.
What is that? What the hell is he planning?
Jake drove closer, approaching the whirlpool.
It’s his lighter. That means…
Jake popped the lighter open with a flick of his wrist and flung it at the floating car.
The golden box spun in the air, its flame flaring out behind it in a small, flickering cone. It vanished inside the interior of the car.
Jake continued on past the whirlpool.
Flames fanned out across the seats of the car. They licked along the body, dancing on the shiny paintwork.
“Jake,” cried Joe, fighting the pain that roared in his chest. “Move! It’s going to-”
The car disappeared in a fireball. A second later, the sound of the explosion spread out on a colossal wave, imploding the windows of the Dean house and Frank’s Honda.
Joe shielded his face from the bright light and burning wind that swept across him. A second explosion blasted the street. He watched in horror as Jake, speeding away from the burning car, was knocked from the bike. He hit the ground on his side and skidded a few feet. The bike continued driverless a little longer down the road before toppling. It slid on its side, sending a shower of sparks out from behind.
The steady advance of the Prowlers had stopped at the first explosion. The creatures waited, transfixed by the rising flames. The bike spun towards them and hit the group, travelling on through. The Prowlers that survived scattered in panic. The bike eventually slowed and came to rest in front of the McGuire house, the engine still rumbling.
Jake lay on the ground, not moving.
“Jesus!” Joe tried to crawl towards the boy, but his ribs felt like they were coated in spikes, and his ankle screamed in protest with white-hot pain. He fell back with a scream.
“Joe?”
Jake sat up, looking dazed. The entire length of his side had been ripped open, ruining the T-shirt and the jeans. The flesh of his legs, arm and side looked red raw and shredded, seeping with blood in places. The short slide down the road had effectively skinned him.
“My God, Jake!”
“I’m fine…I think.” The boy shook his head. “Just a little dizzy.” He stood up and swayed a little, but remained on his feet. He slowly walked over to Joe.
“Jake, you’re a mess!”
“I know,” he said, looking at the damage done to his side. “At least I fell on that side, though.” He turned, revealing the hammer in the loop of his belt. He then patted his pocket, as if to check it.
If he’d fallen on that side
, thought Joe,
the hammer would really have ripped him up.
“Does it hurt?”
“Like a bitch,” replied Jake. “You?”
“I’ve been better. Ankle, ribs and shoulder.”
“Need a hand?”
Joe nodded.
Jake crouched down and hooked an arm around the back of Joe’s neck. He cried out as Jake lifted. With the boy’s help, Joe managed to stand on his good leg and leant against his undamaged side. They hobbled over to the wall surrounding the Harper’s garden and fell upon it. Joe released a huge breath.
“Fuck me,” said Jake. “This is hard work.”
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the car burn.
“We did it, Jake. Our bodies might be ready for the knacker’s yard, but we did it.”
“Not yet.
He’s
still here, remember?”
Joe turned to look at him. “I thought he was after you?”