Fangtooth

Chapter 40

Bruce stared through a slim gap in the barricade of tables and barrels they had fashioned over the window. He thought he heard someone scream outside, but couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t see much, but he perceived things moving, the click of sharp claws scurrying across concrete.

Erin came up beside him. Her hand trembled, making the cigarette clenched between her fingers shake.

“I really can’t believe this is happening,” she said.

“Me neither. All I wanted was a home by the coast, you know, a quiet place. But this…” He raised his hands, didn’t know what else to say.

Erin sucked on her cigarette, exhaled a pale cloud of smoke.

Bruce rubbed his hands across his face. His muscles ached. “I can’t believe what Duncan and Lillian were prepared to do. It’s like something from pagan times. I shouldn’t have let him in. Should have left him outside in the first place.”

“Well he’s gone now. And good riddance.”

“Yes, but I should have—”

Erin placed her finger over Bruce’s mouth. She removed it moments later only to replace it with her lips. Bruce didn’t resist. He closed his eyes, the kiss creating a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. She tasted of cigarettes, but he didn’t mind. He slipped his arms around her waist, pulled her towards him, her body warm against his. He felt the crush of her breasts against his chest–it felt good.

When they parted, Bruce opened his eyes, saw Jack looking at him. Although he expected Jack to be furious, he was surprised when his son nodded to offer his approval before turning away to give them a little privacy.

Bruce returned his gaze to the gap in the window, but he didn’t let go of Erin’s hand.

Brad knocked back another whisky. Not wanting to pass up a free bar, he topped off his glass from the bottle on the counter. The golden liquid felt as warm as it looked as it rolled down his throat. He licked his lips and noticed Zander look up from his perusal of the ground long enough to glance at him then turn away.

Graham seemed to be taking his time. He said he was only going to change a barrel, although Brad couldn’t see the point. It was not as if they were suddenly going to be snowed under with customers, but he guessed the man wanted to keep busy as a distraction from what was happening.

The wrecked boat meant he was out of a job, at least for a while–his brother always said there was a place for him at the garage, but Brad had always refused. He didn’t think it was a good idea to mix family and business. Now it looked as though he had no choice, reason enough for another drink. He swallowed most of the contents of the glass and was about to pour himself another, when he thought he heard something from down in the cellar, a sort of muffled groan.

“Did you hear that?” he said to Zander.

Zander shrugged. “Didn’t hear anything.”

Brad set his glass on the counter and stood up. “Jim, did you hear it?” Jim mumbled something through his beard. It sounded like, “Mine’s a double.”

“Graham’s down there,” Zander said, “so you’re bound to hear something.”

“No, this was like a groan, you know.” He turned towards the cellar door, leaned across the counter and peered down the steps. “Graham,” he called, “you okay down there?”

No one replied.

“Graham,” he shouted again.

“This happened before,” Bruce said, “when the lights went out. He said he couldn’t hear through the thick walls. It’s nothing to worry about.” The dog growled, her hackles raised as she stared towards the cellar door.

Brad narrowed his eyes and turned to look back down the steps when he saw a quick blur of movement. Then a sound, the sharp click of claws on stone as a Fangtooth scurried up the steps on all fours, head held high as though sniffing the air.

“They’re here,” Brad shouted. He vaulted the bar, grabbed the axe from the counter, and plunged it into the Fangtooth’s head as it reached the top of the steps. The blade crunched through thick skull, killing it instantly. “Take that, you piece of shit.”

“Graham’s down there,” Zander said.

Another Fangtooth started up the steps, more followed behind. Too many to count. Brad pushed the carcass down the steps and slammed the door shut. “If he is, he’s dead now.” He leaned against the wood. The door had not been designed to keep people out, and it didn’t have a lock. Something clattered on the other side, and the door banged. The bottom of the door moved inward, the flimsy wood bending.

“This ain’t gonna hold ‘em,” he roared.

The dog started barking, tail between its legs.

Panic seemed to flow around the room. Sara sobbed.

Jim stood up and shook his head. “You’re throwing away good meat,” he said. “Let them in, I’ll show you how it’s done.” He brandished the knife in his hand.

Brad shook his head. This was no time for Jim to lose it.

Jim grinned. “Come on, let the fuckers in. It’s gutting time.”

Zander grabbed Jim by the shoulder and spun him around. “Be serious, man. Those things, they’ll kill ya.”

Jim shook Zander off and rolled his sleeve up to reveal a six-inch scar. “If that shark we had tangled in the net couldn’t do it, then no fucking bottom feeding piece of mutated scum sucking fish bladder is going to either.”

Brad braced his legs against the counter, and ground his teeth together. How many of the bastards were there on the other side of that blasted door?

“I won’t be able to hold them for long,” he wheezed.

“Then let the bastards in,” Jim said.

Brad didn’t like the maniacal glint in Jim’s eyes. Didn’t like the way he held the knife with a caressing touch. He knew some men formed a sort of bond with their knives on board a trawler, and woe betide the man that touched another man’s knife.

“Don’t talk daft, man,” Zander said.

Jim waved his knife around. “Me and this ’ere knife, we’ll slice and dice the fuckers, mark my words.”

The creatures scratched at the door at Brad’s back. He could literally feel each claw scraping across the wood; half expected one of the brutes to break through at any minute.

Bruce ran around the bar, placed his hands on the door, and pushed to help keep it shut. Splinters of wood skittered through the gap at the bottom.

“We won’t be able to hold them much longer,” Brad said. “The door’s not strong enough.”

“Here, wedge this between it and the bar,” Zander said as he passed over a chair. “It’ll give us long enough to get upstairs.”

“Then what?” Erin asked. “Upstairs or down, they’re going to come for us. We can’t hole up there forever.”

“So what do you suggest?” Zander asked.

“We need to get away. Out of the village.”

“How? Those creatures are out there.”

“Fire keeps them at bay. We can use it to help make an escape.”

“And where are we going to get something to burn?” Zander asked.

“Will these do?” Jack held a chair leg aloft.

“Perfect,” Erin said. “Now we need to wrap them in something that will keep burning.”

“Graham won’t need them anymore, look for some clothes upstairs,” Brad said.

Jack started towards the door leading through to the stairs. “I’ll go.”

“Me too,” Jen said as she hurried after him.

The bottom of the cellar door clattered and banged. “And be quick,” Brad shouted.

The bare bulb at the top of the stairs illuminated the stairway. Jack felt nervous as he climbed; couldn’t help wondering what had happened to Graham, and although he had reservations, he was glad that Jen had accompanied him.

“This is turning into one crazy night,” Jen said.

“Yeah, I’ve had better,” Jack replied.

“I’m trying not to think about it. I still can’t believe what my grandmother’s done though. I keep thinking this is just a nightmare; that I’ll wake up soon.”

“You and me both.”

“Do you think the police are going to come?”

“I think we’ll need more than the police to put a stop to this.” Jack turned and hurried up the stairs to a short corridor. At the top, four doors led off, two of which he would have to double back to check. The first door opened onto a sparsely furnished sitting room. Light from the landing illuminated a settee, a small bookcase, a coffee table on which lay a men’s magazine opened at the centre spread and a footstool. The next door led to a small kitchen, where he found the cat drinking milk from its bowl. It looked up and regarded Jack, then resumed lapping its milk as though he wasn’t worth bothering about. Dirty bowls, plates and cutlery were stacked up in the sink and over the draining board. The tap dripped. Jack wondered who would come and clean up when this was all over. Wondered who would look after the cat.

Exiting the room, he walked back along the corridor to investigate the other two doors, both of which were shut. He pushed open the first one he came to, but couldn’t see anything inside as the curtains were drawn and the light on the landing didn’t reach this far. He swept his hand across the wall until he found the light switch and flicked it on.

The first thing he saw was a face staring at him, and his heart did a somersault. He opened his mouth and let out a gasp, only to realise he was looking at his own reflection in a mirror on the wall.

“You okay?” Jen asked.

Jack nodded. “I may not be the best looking lad in the world, but it comes to something when my own reflection makes me jump.”

“You look pretty good to me.”

Jack entered the room to hide his embarrassment. A single bed occupied one wall, across from which a wardrobe held the promise of clothes. Jack strode across and opened it. He thought it felt macabre rifling through the jackets and shirts of someone probably now food for the monsters but he put his feelings aside as he selected things which would burn well, and which would continue to burn, such as a stack of polyester shirts.

“Here, take these,” he said, passing an armful to Jen.

He grabbed a couple of pairs of polyester pants. “That should be enough. Come on, they’re waiting for us.”

Jack ran down the stairs and back into the bar. Brad and his dad were holding the door shut.

“Hurry up, kid,” Brad said.

Rocky, Sara and Erin were stamping on chairs to snap the legs off. Jack and Jen dropped the pile of clothes next to them, then helped wrap each item tightly around the jagged end of each leg.

“We’ll need some alcohol from behind the bar to soak them in,” Erin said. “Rocky, help Jack pick bottles with the most alcohol as that will burn better. Look for liqueurs and rum with high alcohol content.”

Jack looked at Rocky, wondering whether there was still going to be any animosity between them. Rocky stared back, nodded, then proceeded to the bar where he started removing bottles of alcohol from the racks on the wall.

Jack joined him, and said, “I know you don’t like me, but thanks. You know, for helping us when we were stuck on the rocks.”

Rocky looked at him. “Least I could do in the circumstances.”

“Me and Jen, we’re… well…”

“I know.” He leaned closer. “Tell you the truth, I never liked her that much. Don’t tell her, though. Don’t want her to get all upset and the like. Now you see Sara though, she’s a fox.”

Jack looked at Sara and smiled.

When they had enough bottles, Jack and Rocky carried them back to Erin and she started dousing the makeshift torches in alcohol. The pungent aroma of the spirits soon filled the air, and Jack wondered if you could get drunk from the fumes.

“Okay, we’re all set,” Erin said. She passed the torches around. “I don’t know how long they’ll last, so use one at a time. Now who’s got a light?”

“I’ve got one,” Jack said.

Zander nodded. “And me.”

“Those who haven’t got one, grab some of the boxes of matches from behind the bar,” she said.

She placed Brad’s and Bruce’s torches on the bar. Bruce turned to Brad. “You ready?”

The engineer nodded. “As I ever will be.”

Erin lit a match and ignited one of her torches. Acrid black smoke spiralled towards the ceiling as people stepped forwards to light their own torch from Erin’s. Finally, Jack lit his dad’s and Brad’s. Then he held them out, and they jumped away from the door, grabbed the torches and moved clear.

A series of bangs rattled the cellar door in its frame. It wasn’t going to hold much longer. The heat from the torch warmed Jack’s cheeks. He looked at his dad; felt more for him at that moment than he ever had.

“Let’s get out of here,” Bruce said. He hurried towards the front door, slid back the bolts, opened the door, brandished his torch before him, and then stepped outside.