Now the sound had faded, the group looked at each other with worried expressions.

  “Anyone have any idea what the hell that was?” Alan whispered. Matt and Arlee shook their heads.

  “It sounded like big rocks being dropped, or falling off something, but it was too regular to be… well, anything good that I can think of.”

  “Do we carry on?” Matt asked.

  Surprisingly, it was Arlee that answered. “I don’t think we have much of a choice love. Alan is right that we need a lot of things they have there. We don’t know that anywhere else is going to be any safer.”

  Alan nodded. “Let’s take it slow, stay hidden as much as possible. We stay together, keep watch on all sides, and always know where our way out is. Once we get in, we can leave the trailer at the front, bring stuff to it to load up, and we ditch it if we have to run away from anything.”

  Setting their footing, they listened intently before getting the trailer moving once again. Matt was pushing his bicycle now rather than riding, as they weren’t aiming for a steady pace, but were advancing toward the front gate of the garden centre carefully. As they reached the roadside, an unspoken understanding raised the pace, to hurry across the empty space and into the meagre shelter of the fence.

  Checking through the gate, they saw nothing moving, but the sharp, stony thump could be heard once more. Not loudly, but on the opposite side of the large complex of buildings. They paused, listening until it ceased once more.

  “Let’s go.” Matt whispered, and they surged forward with a great effort, pushing the trailer in through the gate, down the driveway leading into the garden centre’s car park. A solitary vehicle was present, in the parking bays that lined both sides of the asphalt strip in front of the complex. Racks of trolleys waited for customers, as pallets of fertiliser bags were stacked high along the entrance walkway.

  The glass fronted buildings were still, and the sliding front door was open, one side looking like it had been pushed in, away from the rail it ran through. Through the opening, no sound disturbed the uncomfortable silence. They turned the trailer around, in case they needed to make a fast exit, and huddled together.

  Alan took charge once more. “Right, let’s take this slow and carefully. Wherever we go, keep your eyes open, stay close and whisper if you see anything move. Staying hidden and safe is our plan.” The normal confidence was notably absent, and the beads of sweat on his forehead were mirrored by the others.

  Arlee took out a sheet of paper and pen from her bag, which they had used to prioritise their wishlist.

  “Fertiliser is right here, and seeds are close to the front door, let’s get them first.”

  Matt and Alan moved to the row of loaded pallets, each picking up a bag of fertiliser and loading them carefully into the trailer, trying to make as little noise as possible. There was a slight squeak as the suspension settled as the heavy bags were added and they froze, but there was no reaction.

  Alan grabbed his staff and pointed to the hammer. Matt nodded and picked it up, the familiar weight settling his nerves somewhat. Creeping forward, they moved in through the front door, eyes darting around.

  A hand settled gently on both their shoulders and they both flinched. Arlee’s voice was barely a whisper. “Breath boys, stay calm. You’re not going to help yourself if you jump at shadows.”

  Sharing a nervous smile, the group moved to the first aisle of shelves, quickly finding the section for seeds. The racks were mostly full, and the two men moved apart to watch out, as Arlee started going through the various sachets, loading several of each into her bag. Carrots, tomatoes and various salads from the first section, then larger boxes and bags for potatoes, onions and mushrooms, amongst a host of other options.

  Noticing the packets left on the shelf, Matt nudged her arm and whispered. “Why not take the rest?”

  She whispered back. “I’ve got more than enough for the garden space we have available, and other people need to eat as well. I don’t want to be unfair. Plus my bag is going to be almost full.”

  Matt squeezed her shoulder in appreciation of her thoughtfulness and gave her a quick smile and affirming nod. A minute or so later, she signalled that there wasn’t anything else to gather there, and they moved on.

  They moved carefully through the buildings, pausing when the stony crashes were heard again, out the back of the building, waiting until it went silent. They made a trip back to the trailer to drop off another load. The next trip was to the cafeteria, grabbing cases of water bottles, some tinned food and Alan had the decency to look slightly guilty as he slid a tray of chocolate brownies into a zip-lock bag and sealed it tight.

  In a stroke of good fortune, they also discovered a freezer unit full of ice bags, with only the outer layer showing signs of melting. Digging deep into the interior, they filled a coolbox they had dragged from the picnic section shelves and filled it with ice, hoping to prolong some of the perishable food at home. Trailing crumbs from Alan’s mouth, they moved back to the trailer to load up. As they checked items off the list, huddled between two of the stacks of fertiliser bags, they planned their next move.

  “The craft section is at the back, past the pet shelves, we’ve not been through there yet.” Matt said. “We can go there, then head out the back door to get things like the rain barrels, maybe some boards as well.”

  Moving back into through the front door, they advanced slowly through the aisles to the back of the main building, freezing as once more the series of regular rocky crashes drifted to their ears. Once it had ended, they hurried quietly through an archway into the craft section. The pervasive organic smell in the rest of the building was pushed back by a number of air freshener pods swinging from the shelves.

  Various school projects had seen Matt and Arlee be regular visitors here, and they quickly navigated the smaller shop area. Arlee held her bag open and Matt showed none of the compunction of his wife, emptying the shelves of the reels of thread, dyes and other items he could use in his weaving.

  Armloads of packets and boxes went into the bag, and when Matt returned with another, he looked at Arlee quizzically.

  “Isn’t that getting heavy? You’ve got all the seeds in there still, and I’ve put a load of my stuff in there.”

  Arlee stared at him for a moment, then down at the bag. Hefting it slightly in her hands, her eyes grew wide.

  “It… it barely weighs anything at all! It’s like there is nothing in there – but I can see….. Matt, I can see everything that we’ve put in!”

  Alan turned and gently covered Arlee’s mouth with a big hand, before raising a finger to his lips, as her voice had risen in shock. She nodded apologetically and he removed his hand.

  “I look in the top, and it’s like I can see everything we’ve put in there, spread out on a big blanket.” She reached inside and quickly pulled out a packet of carrot seeds.

  This was the first thing I put in when we got here, it should be buried at the bottom, but I can see it, clear as day.” Her voice was an excited whisper. “Can you see it as well?”

  Matt looked down and into the top of the bag. It seemed to be in shadow, the contents indistinct. Reaching in, he again felt a feeling of nausea, as he had while trying to read Kira’s encyclopaedia, and he swiftly withdrew his hand.

  “I think we’ve discovered how your bag was affected by the weirdness my lovely. It looks like it only works for you – I felt something similar to when I looked in Kira’s book. Maybe something about this effect makes it so only the owner can use each item.”

  “That’s wonderful guys, really happy. Now can we focus on finishing up here, before whatever is making all that noise finds us. We can experiment with magical bags later on, when we’re back and safe.”

  Arlee and Matt looked guiltily at each other. They had fallen into precisely the behaviour they had excluded Kira from the trip for, and they raised apologetic hands to Alan. Matt resumed shovelling armloads of craft items into Arlee’s bag, looking at her questioningly after each deposit. Each time she looked back with a smile, shaking her head and hefting the bag easily to show that the weight was not increasing.

  After clearing out a large volume of stock, they left the craft section and moved toward the back door of the complex, which led out into the open-air section, housing larger garden supplies, like paving, fencing and ornaments. The door was open, the yard quiet. Rows of Winter flower exhibits led into the larger garden items. Statues lined one of the walkways, and stacks of paving slabs were piled by the side of the area, as they moved along the walkways to the back of the yard. They quickly found light, but sturdy rigid plastic water barrels, in an enclosed area alongside pond lining and gravel bags.

  Unfortunately, testing revealed that even if Arlee’s bag could carry an apparently unlimited volume of small items, if something was too big to fit through the regular opening, then it wasn’t going in. Settling for carrying a barrel each, they were about to move back to the trailer, when the stony crashes started again, close by and getting louder.

  “Quick!” Alan whispered. “Behind that shed!”

  They put down the barrels and moved swiftly behind a large shed, holding a display of gravel types. They huddled down, close together, nervous hands gripping staff, hammer and bag straps tight, sweat beading their faces, as fear arose in each of them.

  The crashes got closer, each one like a large rock falling down onto the cement surface of the yard. This close, the trio could hear the crack of breaking cement, and the pings as shards were sprayed around onto fences and displays. The nerve-wracking sounds grew closer, and closer, until they were barely feet away from the shivering humans.

  There was a pause, and a strange grinding sound, as if of rocks moving over and past each other. At close proximity, the comparison to footfalls was feeling disturbingly prophetic.

  Then the shed exploded.

  Splinters from the roof flew out in all directions. The group huddled down low to avoid the sharp shards. Luckily the back wall of the shed took the brunt of the shower, before collapsing inward and revealing them. Looking up, they beheld a large, statue-like figure towering over them, both arms and torso slowly rearing back up from where they had smashed down through the shed with terrifying force. Stone skin was carved to resemble clothes on a humanoid figure, but the detail was muted, as if rounded off rather than a polished finish. The figure’s face was similarly bland, with hollow eyes and a large mouth, gaping in a silent scream.

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  As the figure slowly moved back to fully upright, Matt grabbed Arlee and scrambled back, pushing her ahead of him and away from their assailant. Likewise, Alan sprang up and away, teeth gritted, looking desperately around for any avenue of escape.

  Getting some distance from the figure, Matt looked back, failing to watch his footing and sprawled out on his front, ankle screaming as he turned it on a loose stack of rocks. A cry of pain escaped his mouth, and Arlee desperately tried to pull him upright as the rocky figure took a first step toward them. This close, each heavy step shook the ground as it grew slowly closer.

  Hobbling painfully back, using the long handle of his hammer as a makeshift walking stick, Matt could just about stay out of reach. Arlee had run to a stack of earthenware pots and tried to distract the statue from her husband’s slow retreat, but the thrown pots just shattered as they hit the bulky form with no apparent effect. It only served to spread razor sharp shards over the floor, and she looked around desperately for anything that might slow down the towering figure.

  They heard a wild yell, and an almighty crack as Alan’s staff slammed down on its arm, sending stone chips spraying around. The statue stopped advancing, twisting slowly to face its attacker. As it turned, the stony fists gained surprising momentum, and Alan ducked, stumbling backward desperately to gain space from those football-sized blocks. The familiar crashing sound echoed around the enclosure as it started taking heavy steps toward him.

  Grimacing, but seeing no alternative, Matt hobbled forward toward the statue’s back, as it stepped toward Alan’s retreating figure. Its attention seemed to be solely focused on the big man, who was watching the massive fists with barely controlled fear clear on his face. Matt limped forward, not leaving his weight on his injured ankle for more than an instant – and even that sent spikes of pain through his lower leg. Balancing on his uninjured side, he hefted the hammer and brought it around in a wide arc into the statue’s right knee.

  Vibrations ran up the long handle and into his body, threatening to break his grip, but he grimly clung on and hopped backward as the statue once again ceased its advance and turned back toward him. Again, the momentum of the thing’s fists as they arced around was unstoppable, but Matt saw a possibility emerge for them.

  “Alan, it is reacting automatically, always going for the newest threat. We’ve got to bounce it between us and wear it down.” He shouted, hoping desperately that this part-assumption, part deduction wouldn’t doom them to a future as a pile of crushed flesh and powdered bones.

  “Gotcha! Right knee, let’s see if we can chop it down!”

  The men took turns, advancing when the statue’s back was turned and slamming their weapon into the right leg joint, covering the ground with a growing layer of stone chips and dust. The statue seemed to lack any intelligence, or ability to adapt to even these basic tactics, but the friends were still wary of the pulverising power of the swinging fists as it turned toward the latest attack. Arlee took every opportunity to send an improvised missile toward it, but the items she could lift and throw were rarely heavy enough to cause the brutal automaton to shift focus to her.

  Matt’s leg continued to blast pain through him every time even the slightest weight went down on it, and tears streamed down his face, teeth gritted so hard he felt they might crack. He struggled on - hopping more than stepping - taking care not to over-commit to a swing of the heavy hammer, that might see him sprawling at the statue’s feet. They only needed to be unlucky once to spell disaster.

  The stony figure gave no indication of pain, or injury, but eventually they could see the effect of their focused blows adding up. The statue seemed to stumble slightly as it turned toward Matt, and Alan put everything he had into a strike, shattering the knee joint and sending the statue crashing sideways to the ground. As the almighty impact sent a cloud of dust into the air, the friends backed away, still wary of the remaining limbs.

  Surprisingly, the statue’s animating force seemed to quickly diminish after collapsing to the floor. The arms and remaining leg made as if to take a step, which shifted the body slightly, but then like a toy running out of battery power, the prone body ground to a stop, and was still.

  Panting heavily, Alan moved cautiously forward, staff extended out in front of him like a spear. He prodded the body, but there was no reaction. Matt collapsed backward, cradling his ankle in his hands as the adrenaline was overtaken by the sharp, throbbing pain radiating up his leg. Arlee ran over and threw her arms around him, holding on tightly.

  Alan stood and listened, but the air was still and silent once more. Making his way through the wreckage of the enclosure, he offered Matt his hand and helped him up to stand on his good leg.

  “No time to rest now mate, we’ve just made a shed-load of noise and we need to get out of here before anything comes to investigate. Leave the barrels, we can come back for them another time.”

  Grimacing, Matt looked about.

  “We need them Al. Arlee can help me get back to the trailer; can you carry a couple of them?”

  Alan looked ready to argue but shrugged and tried picking up the barrels. They were too large to sling under an arm each, but they were light enough that he could grab the top lip and carry them a short distance at least. He handed his staff to Arlee, who had been busy collecting some items from the enclosure and stuffing them into her bag. She took the staff, slung the bag over her shoulders, then nestled herself under Matt’s arm on his injured side.

  “Come on Matt, let’s get you back to the trailer.”

  They heard nothing on the way back through the yard, back through the complex. Matt had to stop a few times, waiting for the sharp pain ripping up his leg like lightning to subside. Alan set down the two plastic barrels, stretching and clenching his fists to ease the growing aches in his fingers. The adrenaline comedown after defeating the statue had hit hard, and they all felt like they were running on fumes, but they struggled on, awkwardly sidling through the narrowly ajar front door until they reached the parked trailer.

  Arguing feebly, Matt was bundled into the trailer, with the barrels laid down around and partially on top of him. As much as he wanted to help, he had rolled his ankle too many times playing football through his life. He recognised that he would be more of an impediment than help. Arlee moved to the bike, nodded to Alan, and they both strained to get the makeshift vehicle moving.

  The friends were quiet on the journey back to their road, the sound of laboured breathing a testament to the strain their bodies were enduring. Arlee gave up trying to pedal the bike, with a saddle that was set awkwardly high, and just leaned into the handlebars, putting all the weight she could into driving it forward. Behind the trailer, Alan resembled the statue, arms locked out, knuckles white as they gripped the rear end of the trailer and pushed it forward with steps that grew more stumbling as they went.

  Matt did what he could to encourage them quietly, but eventually the banal phrases urging them on became meaningless against the straining muscles and panting breaths, so he devoted his time to keeping a lookout for any danger. Silently berating himself for putting the group in this position, feeling so helpless and useless.

  Fortune was with them on the return journey, with no significant slopes to climb or hostile wildlife encountered. Maybe the altered beasts were still acclimatising to their own changed reality, and still had the habitual fear of humans, Matt thought through a haze of constant, aching pain. Shivering as he remembered the life-or-death struggle that had introduced him to the new way of the world. Some creatures had adapted fast, and others would be catching up. Humans were ill-equipped to deal with a future with monsters, and lacking all the conveniences which modern society took for granted.

  They were going to need to find an edge.

  As he pondered this, he realised that the edge they needed might be right in front of him. He had no doubt that without the light from his magical patch, the fight against the rat would not have gone his way. He needed to find out what other possibilities existed in his weaving, to cover the shortfall of all they had lost.

  Looking up, he saw that the trailer was slowly turning the final corner into their road, weaving between the many cars that were habitually – and now permanently – parked along both pavements.

  “Come on you heroes!” He called out to the struggling pair. “We’re almost there. A hundred yards and you can rest. Come on!”

  His urging gave a sliver of new life to Arlee and Alan’s trembling muscles, enough to gradually eat up the distance before arriving back outside the Brands’ house. As they hauled the trailer to a stop, they could hear a high-pitched voice from the upstairs window shouting out in glee.

  “They’re back! Aunty Carry, they’re back! They’ve got a load of…. Where’s Dad? I only see Mum and Uncle Al, where’s…..” The voice faded for a few seconds, then burst back into their consciousness as Kira scrambled out of the front door, running to grab her mother in a tight hug.

  “Where’s Dad, Mum? What happened? He isn’t…. isn’t…?”

  “No love, shhh, your Dad’s just being really lazy.” Arlee gasped, doing her best not to collapse all her weight on the now firmly clamped on girl. “He couldn’t be bothered to walk home, so insisted on being given a ride.”

  She pointed to Matt, half-buried under water barrels and random supermarket carrier bags, bulging with what was basically loot from their first mini dungeon-crawl. Kira disentangled herself and raced around to the side of the trailer, reaching for Matt, but being blocked by the plastic cylinder.

  “Dad, what the hell? Really?”

  Matt grimaced as the trailer shifted with Kira’s weight. “Hi Pickle, your Mum is being funny. I hurt my leg, so couldn’t move much. I heroically told them to leave me behind and save themselves, but apparently, I’m the only wizard they know, so they threw me in here.”

  He turned to his wife, reaching a hand to cover hers as she gripped the side of the trailer. Squeezing gently, he struggled to find a way to express his gratitude for the efforts they had gone to.

  “Thanks Arl. You too Al, I don’t know how you managed it. My turn next trip, okay?”

  The tall man grinned, lungs heaving still. “I’ll take you up on that mate. Right now I’m going to rest for a bit, have a beer before it gets too warm, and sleep for a week.”

  Carry joined them outside, noting the condition of the human beasts of burden and directing them straight inside to rest, which they gratefully accepted. Kira started unloading what she could, carrying bags, tools and other bundles of supplies through into the house.

  “What have you done?” Carry asked, as she moved around the trailer to Matt.

  “What makes you think it was my fault?” Matt queried, smiling around teeth still gritted around the pain.

  “Living with Al, I find it saves time to assume misadventure. I guess now there are genuine dangers around us, I might have to give him – and you apparently – the benefit of the doubt.”

  Matt took a deep breath before recounting their encounter with the statue. Carry paled slightly at his description of the animated monstrosity, but with Matt’s assurances that none of them were in any immediate danger, she reached down, rolled up his trouser leg and examined his ankle.

  The shooting pain had settled somewhat, but was still an ever-present, and he could see dark purple bruising covering a swollen joint. He winced as Carry gently felt around his leg, assessing the extent of the damage.

  “I don’t feel anything shifting, and there doesn’t appear to be any internal bleeding, so I think it is just badly sprained. You’ve done that enough in your rough sports over the years. Without an x-ray machine handy, we can wrap it, try to keep it cool and elevated and see how it settles over the next few days. Let’s get you inside.”

  “Actually, I was hoping that your bag of miracles has got something to help me recover a bit faster than that. What do you think?”

  Carry blinked, then laughed at herself. “I forgot about that. It still feels unreal how you recovered before, but we can hope that it wasn’t a one-off.”

  Matt levered himself up, shifting the barrels over to give himself space to swing his good leg over the side and down, putting his weight on it before gingerly lifting the other leg over. Grabbing his hammer like a walking stick, he put as much weight on it as possible as he hobbled slowly over the front yard and into the house.

  In a short while, Kira and Carry had emptied the trailer and brought everything into the house, where an impressive pile of loot was piled up against the wall in the front room. Matt had eased himself down into a chair. Arlee and Alan were slumped on the sofa, breathing back to normal, but drenched in sweat. Seeing this, Carry shooed Alan out of the room, ignoring his protests.

  “Get in the shower, I won’t have you stinking the place out. Go, now!”

  Grumbling under his breath, Alan trudged up the stairs and out of sight. Arlee struggled to raise herself up, but Carry gently pushed her back into the seat.

  “Rest Arl, you can go in the shower after Al, or if you like I can boil you some water for a sponge bath? The mains water is still running at the moment, though I’m sure that will stop soon as well.”

  “That sounds lovely, thanks Carry.” Arlee replied with a contented sigh. “I notice you didn’t offer the hot water to Alan.”

  Smirking, Carry shuffled over to Matt, lifting his leg into an elevated position and opening her first aid bag. “It will do that big baby good to suffer a little hardship. I still haven’t forgiven him for dousing me with the hose last Summer.”

  She wiped down Matt’s ankle to clean it, then applied a liberal dose of pain relief gel. Wrapping it firmly with a padded bandage, she listened out as Alan’s footsteps creaked across the ceiling and into the bathroom.

  Holding a finger to her lips, Carry stayed silent as the bath creaked, and the pipes started gurgling softly as water ran into the shower.

  “ARRRRRR…….. OOOOOOOO……. COLD COLD COLD!”

  For the first time since the advent of weirdness, wild unbridled laughter rang out in the house, and for a moment, their troubles were set aside. Except Alan’s.

  “Now you rest.” Carry ordered her patient. “No wandering around.”

  Matt nodded his acceptance and his thanks. His brain already racing with the myriad possibilities open to him through his weaving.