Nine

It is hours later and we’re walking down the middle of a dual carriageway when she sees it. I hear her gasp, and I know that it must be a Creature. I snap my head around to look so fast it feels as though I crick my neck. Lisa grabs my arm and points. There it is at the end of the street, wandering past with its weird dog-legged gait. Hunting.

Lisa tugs on my arm and together, soundless, my heart thundering in my ears, we get down on our hands and knees and crawl in through the broken window of an overturned car. The ground is sprinkled with cubes of glass that dig into my knees. There’s hardly any space. Crouched there awkwardly I draw the gun from my belt and hold it, ready. Lisa looks at me and looks at the gun–I don’t think she knew I had it before–but she doesn’t say anything. One word and we could both be dead.

The terror of the first day returns full force and we are animals again, crouching and hiding and helpless. A shadow casts longwise on the ground outside, a moving shadow. I’m holding the gun and sweating and shaking. I can hear the clacks of its claws on the ground. A gust of that fetid, alien smell washes into the belly of the car.

Will it hurt to die? Will it be quick? My heart is beating in my chest like a mad thing.

There is a low croak from outside. Lisa is hugging her knees and breathing too loud, too fast. Like she’s having a heart attack or something. The moment suspends, the shadow outside frozen and I can imagine the Creature listening, scenting the air.

And then . . .

And then the shadow retreats, the claw clacks getting fainter. I catch a flash of its horny, red-leather legs as it goes past, and then its gone. We’re alone.

It isn’t until I reach up to wipe the sweat from my face that I realise I’m crying.