“That’s not loot…. it’s a space station.” Matt exclaimed in wonder at the veritable mountain of bottles, tins, packets, boxes and other items piled around the chairs and sofas. All of which had been emptied out of Arlee’s bag, item by item, to the increasingly astounded stares of the rest of the group.

  Alan carefully picked his way carefully around the prince of piles and threw an arm across his friend’s shoulder. “Sorry mate, but it’s too big to be a space station.”

  The interplay drew grins from the two boys, sighs of exasperation from their wives, and a confused look from Kira. She had seen the movies but wasn’t of the generation which had memorised virtually every line from the sci-fi classic.

  “I’ll explain later.” Matt assured his daughter.

  “Please don’t.” She replied, reaching forward and lifted a bag of crisps from the mound. She went back to reading, crunching quietly as pages turned.

  Arlee was proud of their efforts, which would easily support the group nutritionally until they started harvesting, but felt melancholy. Every scavenged item was only possible because someone else didn’t need it anymore – most likely because they were dead. Alan’s possible explanation earlier about going to friends or family was unlikely – in the face of all the danger and uncertainty, surely most would hole up in their houses for defence, not immediately think to consolidate elsewhere.

  Even their own grouping – which would likely have happened to a lesser or greater extent anyway – was more a product of the intrusion into the Tappers’ home on that first night. Joining their numbers had absolutely been the right move and surely put both families in more secure positions to withstand whatever the new world put in their way. She sighed and pushed the retrospection away, taking simple pleasure in the success and the positive implications on their long-term survival.

  Carry had started sorting through the pile - not even trying to mentally catalogue the huge volume and variety in front of her - just looking for any stand-out finds. There were a huge number of tinned goods, which would keep them fed for some time, as well as providing a stock to hoard against a vegetable crop failure. A large stack of bottled water packs would be useful for taking on trips away from the houses, and a goodly number of bags of rice and pasta would bulk out meals well. Big multi-packs of toilet tissue were a welcome sight.

  The waist high tower of chocolate biscuit tins had ‘Alan’ written all over them in big, invisible letters. Likewise, the huge assortment of soap, shampoo, toothpaste and feminine hygiene products were probably due to Arlee’s attention to detail. Boxes, bottles and packs of painkillers, medicines and dressings were a relatively minor, but still significant foothill to the loot mountain.

  There were pallets of beer cans, bottles of spirits and fruit cordials. Bulging spice racks and various sauces would provide some welcome variety to meals, which were likely to be pretty uniform in the future, if they didn’t start larger scale farming and even animal herding. There were bags full of what looked like ski jackets and trousers, heavy waterproof jackets and wellington boots, all of which would surely prove invaluable in future cold and wet weather.

  Off to the side, Alan was going through a separate, smaller pile with Matt. It seemed to be comprised of anything unusual that had caught Alan’s eye as he moved through the various properties along the road. It looked like a mix of 80’s gameshow memory game and random bric-a-brac you would find hiding in the back of a loft or garage.

  “That student place down the end was a good one – got a nice bow and arrow set which might be useful with some practice. Doesn’t look like they were home either, no signs of a struggle, apart from the busted down door and the fridge had been torn open. No blood trails.”

  “Other places, we found a bunch of multi-tools, some pads of paper, reels of wire and twine, even a decent coil of thick rope. Once place must have been getting fixed up, so I grabbed a bunch of those curtain rods.” He indicated a bundle of thick wooden rods, about six to eight feet long.

  “Thought they might make good spears. If we have to go into any rat tunnels, that will be easier to use than a hammer or something else you gotta swing. Some rolls of duct tape, a bunch of lighters, decks of cards, a bunch of board games – downtime is important, after all!”

  Alan sneaked a glance over his shoulder, where their respective wives were starting to sort the lower slopes of the pile out for storage. Moving close to Matt, he fumbled around in an old sports bag and hurriedly pushed over several boxes of condoms with an exaggeratedly lecherous wink. Matt snorted with laughter, concealing the small boxes as the sound attracted the ladies’ attention.

  “What’s the matter?” Arlee enquired.

  “Nothing Arl.” Matt replied, clearing his throat. “You and Alan have done really well here.”

  She looked suspicious for a moment, before calling for the group’s attention. They looked over.

  “I know this seems exciting, and it’s absolutely going to go a long way for our future comfort and security.” She paused, reflecting on her earlier thoughts. “But we only have this because a lot of people are no longer here to need it. We heard what happened to many of them, and it was horrific. We… they… “ She swallowed, tears welling up in her eyes

  Carry moved over and held her lightly, rubbing her back. Arlee looked over gratefully before continuing. “Is it silly to ask for us to do a moments silence for them? I would feel better if we gave some thanks for all this, rather than treating it like an early Christmas.”

  There was a heavy silence around the room, but surprisingly it was Alan who narrowly beat Matt to get to Arlee and give her an all-enveloping but gentle hug. Releasing her after a few seconds, he stepped back and Matt tagged in to comfort his wife.

  “You’re spot on Arl.” Alan said in remorse. “I’m guilty of that and wasn’t thinking about it that way at all. We can hope that some of them made it and be respectful about it.”

  He reached over and put an arm around Carry, laying the other hand on Matt’s shoulder. Kira had been listening intently, then got up and joined her parents in a tight huddle. Dragon nuzzled his way under one of her arms and leaned his head against her. They stood in this way for a couple of minutes; each lost in their own thoughts and reflecting on how lucky they had been so far. The first night’s struggle and the encounter with the monstrous kite were foremost, but each of them found something positive in their experiences as well.

  The connections each had found in the tight-knit group, surpassing the bonds of easy friendship they had known for years. The feelings of reliance and certainty that – no matter how bad things got – this larger family was their best chance to survive and thrive. The wonders they had seen with each of their special objects, without all of which, their survival chances would be that much less.

  The reverie was respectfully broken by Kira, releasing her Dad to drop a hand onto Dragon’s head and stroke his fur. She spoke, timidly at first, but growing in confidence.

  “Dad’s always said to me that no matter what you’re doing or where you are, having a good team and good friends around you are the most important things in life. I believed him but didn’t really understand until the last few days. I’m… I’m glad that we’re together.”

  Seeing everyone’s attention squarely focused on her, Kira blushed bright red and buried her face between her parents. The adults looked around at each other, pride evident across all their faces.

  “Well said youngster.” Alan spoke first. She looked up, expecting some kind of witty response about growing up, maturing or some such cringy-ness, but he just nodded approvingly.

  Kira decided to push her luck. “So now we know that’s right, we definitely need to go and find Lara and make sure she has good friends and a team, don’t we?” She asked brightly.

  Matt and the others chuckled at the simple, but effective word trap, but Kira wasn’t finished. Turning weapons-grade pleading eyes on her Dad, she flung both arms around his neck. “Please Dad? Tomorrow?”

  Matt stroked her hair as she waited for his response, her tension obvious. He looked around the group. Alan gave a thumbs up, while both the ladies gave a reluctant nod.

  “Sure Pickle, tomorrow we’ll go check in on them tomorrow.

  As the light faded that evening, the group worked to divide the foodstuffs and other supplies into what would stay here in the Brands’ house and what would go over the road to the Tappers’. Putting half the stack back into Arlee’s bag made Carry and Alan’s job a lot easier, so Matt and his family packed up their things, bid a fond farewell to their fellow survivors and made their way back over the road.

  This time, it was Nala and Oli who flowed from the shadows to pace at Kira’s side, and she spoke to them quietly as they walked. It appeared that she had been learning more about how to communicate with them, as after one soft hiss, Oli leapt ahead and onto an area of single storey roof to survey their surroundings. Nala stayed close to Kira, her eyes constantly casting about for any danger.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  How do they decide who stays with her. Matt wondered. Are they organising shifts now?

  As the light waned, Matt and his family unloaded Arlee’s bag, using Matt’s light patch to fill the room with a soft radiance. The day’s excitement and exertions began to take their toll though, and they checked all the doors and windows, Kira gave both cats a brush which they seemed to luxuriate in, and they settled down to sleep.

  The light of the new day made a corona around the closed blind, and Matt blinked his eyes open, flinching away from the brightness. Their sleep had been unbroken, and he felt reinvigorated, both by the first good sleep in several days, and the resurgent energy he felt inside him, coiling and ready to release. He turned over to see Arlee looking at him, smiling.

  “Good morning my love, you slept well.”

  “I did.” Matt said as he stretched. “You?”

  “I woke up once, but went back off again quickly. One of the cats was curled up on the end of the bed and my feet were lovely and toasty.”

  Matt raised his head, but there was no sigh of their feline protector. Seeing they were alone, he turned to his wife with a naughty smile and sinful intent, but hopes of morning intimacy were dashed by a scrambling ruckus as Kira burst into the room with a loud ‘good morning!’ and bounded onto the bed to sit between their feet.

  “When are we going Dad?” She asked in breathless anticipation.

  “You’re not going anywhere except over to Aunty Carry’s, remember?” At this Kira looked downcast, hoping as she had that her parents had forgotten that tiny logistical detail. “Your Mother and I are going with Al, and we’re going to have a proper breakfast first.”

  She sprang off the bed. “I’ll get breakfast ready then, hurry up and get dressed. And no smooching!” Her voice faded as she ran downstairs.

  Matt looked down at his wife as the junior footsteps and banging cupboard doors sounded in the kitchen beneath their bedroom. Then, pinning Arlee’s arms down, he thoroughly disobeyed his daughter’s instructions for several seconds as his target giggled beneath him. Eventually Arlee freed herself from his rampant affection and shooed him away to get ready for the day.

  They ate together at the kitchen table, where Kira had laid out a pretty random selection of breakfast items, and had optimistically poked a tablet a few times as if to see if any dregs of Wi-Fi remained. Matt and Arlee exchanged amused glances but wisely failed to comment on the fading generational addiction to touchscreens.

  During the previous evening, they had laid out the kit they expected to need for today’s expedition, and after a careful check outside, Matt retrieved his bike and dragged it inside to check the tyres. Wearing his armour top and carrying a makeshift spear, whittled from one of the thick curtain poles and with handgrips of wrapped duct-tape, he had dug out a selection of patches that they could potentially leave with Lara’s family as well.

  He had attached his other armour patch to the dungarees that Arlee had dug out of a collection of old clothes. She had protested that he should keep it, but he would not hear of it and hoped that the almost all-over garment would mean that the patch would give her more protective coverage.

  Arlee carried her bag, over a thick jacket and pair of joggers, wearing her favourite running shoes. In her bag were a supply of food and water, as well as some tools and Matt’s hammer, in case they needed to break through any locks or doors. Alan joined them, then escorting Kira and her feline guardians back over the road before returning. He had his stick slung over his back by a length of twine and wore his armour top and trousers. He opened a small satchel and brought out a couple of deodorant aerosols and lighters.

  “In case we meet anything that doesn’t like fire.” He explained. “We stick together everywhere, at least until we’re done at the hardware place. We can see what everything’s like when we’re done there and see if the plan needs adjusting.”

  The others nodded, too nervous to add anything else, and the trio set off down the road, waving to Carry and Kira in the window. Matt wheeled his bike along as the others set a fast-walking pace, moving carefully from shelter to shelter as they kept wary eyes on the sky.

  It was normally a ten-minute direct walk to the centre of Twyford along the main road, but the trio kept to smaller roads with more cover in the form of trees and house porches. As they walked, they saw drag marks and bloodstains in several places, angling between rows of houses. They had been going for several minutes when Arlee gave a small cry, covering her mouth quickly to cut off the sound. The others looked around, but nothing stirred.

  Wordlessly, she pointed a trembling finger under a nearby hedge they were walking past, where a pale object lay entangled in the tall grass.

  A hand.

  Pale and wrinkled from the morning dew. Ragged tatters of meat and white bone where it once was – where it should have been – attached to an arm. Drag marks ran from under the hedge, out into and across the road, but this scrap of a person had been left behind, forgotten, wasted.

  Arlee took panting breaths and Matt held her tightly as Alan kept watch around them. Her breathing slowed and got under control, and fearful eyes stared into Matts. He looked questioningly at her and pointed back the way they came.

  Arlee steeled herself, took a deep breath and shook her head, pointing emphatically onwards. They each squeezed the other’s hand in silent assurance, before nodding to Alan and starting forward once more, careful to avoid looking back at the grisly reminder of an unknown person’s fate.

  Turning down a tree-sheltered path along the edge of the local recreation ground, Alan suddenly and urgently waved them down, and they hurriedly crouched behind whatever cover they could find. He held a finger to his lips and pointed, leading their gaze over the park.

  Large, haphazard piles of fresh earth. Gouges scraped through the grass. A dark, gaping hole in the middle of the football pitch.

  Alan scanned the ground ahead of them, then pointed to a few different places, where more drag marks could be seen, along with flattened grass, coloured almost black in places with a crusted covering of some dark liquid. The marks and dark patches all led toward the new mound and forbidding entrance to the darkness beneath.

  Matt nudged Alan, curving his hand to indicate heading back around the other side of the treeline. Alan nodded and they moved into the deeper cover, aware that they were only a few seconds run from a nest of voracious, merciless killing machines. Taking great pains to stay as quiet as possible, they slowly made their way from tree to tree, bush to bush, past a couple of community buildings and eventually out the other side of the park.

  As they moved back into residential roads, Alan pointed off to the side, leading the trio into a sheltered nook between a wall and a parked van. They crouched and took deep breaths, calming their racing hearts.

  “Well, I guess we know where the nest is now.” Alan muttered quietly. “Better to know than have to go looking for it.”

  They rested there for a few minutes, sipping from bottles of water that Arlee passed around, wolfing down a shared chocolate bar. Mostly recovered from the fright and revulsion of their recent experiences, they moved onward as one.

  After several more minutes, they approached the village centre, a set of crossroads with most of the local shops. Most were intact, although a few with flats above them showed the familiar signs of intrusion. At one point the trio huddled down and waved to a frightened face peeking around the edge of a curtain in a second storey room, but it vanished back behind the fabric, and even though they waited for another minute or so, no-one made themselves known.

  Cars were lining the roads, pushed up on the pavements from where they had no doubt slowed to a halt as their engines and electrical systems cut out. There were no serious wrecks or obvious signs of casualties, as the traffic through this part of the village was usually slowed down by the traffic lights governing the crossroad. The worst they saw was a car with a bollard denting the front bumper where it had swerved to the side.

  Scanning along the roads and seeing no further movement, they hurried over the road and up toward the local railway station, passing through areas of narrow-fronted terrace housing. The streets were lined with low walls and fences, numerous small trees and shrubberies popping up from small front yards, and they had to stay more exposed on the pavements as they hurried along.

  “Hey! Hey! Over here!”

  A hoarse voice caught their attention, across the road, as a hand waved from an open door. They quickly moved over the road and were ushered in, the door closing quickly behind them. The man pointed them through a door off the hallway, and they trooped inside.

  They were greeted by a middle-aged lady, hands clasped around a steaming mug of coffee and looking surprised, as the man who had hailed them followed inside. He sat down next to her and waved them into chairs.

  “Hi, err… hi!” She nervously said, taking a sip from her mug before placing it down on a low table. “Do you know what is going on? We don’t have any power, neither do the neighbours, and the water has stopped now as well. We can’t get hold of anyone, and we’ve heard some crazy stories about monsters. As if we don’t have enough troubles without people making things up!” She looked out of the side of her eye at the large staff that Alan was holding at his side.

  The trio looked at each other, before Matt responded. “You’re in the same boat as everyone else. We’re from the north side of the village, and the same thing there. No power, no water, no phones. Everything electrical seems to have died, and…” He paused for a moment, choosing his words. “…the stories about monsters aren’t crazy at all. We’ve seen giant rats the size of big dogs, and what we think was a red kite – the size of a small plane. They’re real alright.”

  “Oh, come on, not you as well. There’s no such thing as…” The man sputtered.

  “Yes, there is.” Alan’s voice was cold and hard, and the couple shrank back, looking scared at his tone. “We’ve seen them, fought them, defended ourselves from them. They’re real and they’re not going away. Don’t you hear them at night?”

  “We’ve heard some strange things, yes. But that was just the local kids, messing around like always. They’re always making noise and trouble, and now they’re running away as well…”

  Matt interrupted. “Running away?”

  The man replied in frustration. “Yes, several of the neighbours have left suddenly, a couple of others were asking after their kids who seem to have run off. Probably hiding with friends, smoking and drinking behind the station like always.”

  Arlee laid a placating hand on Matt and Alan’s shoulders. “I know it seems strange and impossible, but do you remember getting knocked out a few days ago?”

  “Yes, very strange, we must have been very tired.”

  “That wasn’t tiredness but was some sort of effect which seems to have struck everywhere. Ever since then, electricals don’t work, animals are being changed into bigger versions of themselves – bigger and very unfriendly in most cases – and other things are happening. Impossible… magical things.”

  “Now come on Miss, you don’t expect us to believe that…”

  “What were you holding when you were knocked out?” Arlee pressed them.

  The woman replied. “I don’t know, how are we supposed to remember that?”

  Alan got to his feet. “You best work hard to remember, because those things might just save your lives. Those people who have disappeared? They’re probably dead or taken. Come on…” He turned to Matt and Arlee. “…we’ve got to get going.”

  As the trio walked out and collected Matt’s bike, the man followed them out of the front room. “But what are we supposed to do now? When will the power be back on? If I miss too much work I’ll be in so much trouble!”

  Alan turned and levelled an impatient stare at him. “Trust me mate, work is the least of your worries right now. Treat it like a zombie apocalypse movie and you might be alright.”

  The man stared back at him, mouth opening and shutting like a fish out of water. Without another word, the trio exited and pulled the door shut behind them. As they walked through the small front yard and back onto the pavement, they looked back to see the couple at the window, arguing animatedly.

  Alan led them up the street, continuing toward the station and the hardware shop.

  “Yup, they are totally screwed.”