Secrets in the Dark by Darcy Coates

Author:Darcy Coates [Coates, Darcy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Owl Books
Published: 2020-04-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Two

They each held a weapon of choice. Clare had lost her crowbar at the bridge, so she carried the fire poker. She hadn’t consciously planned it, but she gravitated towards long weapons. Knocking the hollows aside was easier than feeling a blade become buried in skin. Dorran brought his axe, its head already stained dark brown. He carried it one-handed, held at his side.

Beth’s front garden gate barred their path. Clare couldn’t shake the feeling of surrealism as she neared it. Beth had been pedantic about her gate; even though it was only waist height, she’d never left it unlatched. She’d been afraid of strangers breaking in and believed a shut gate would act as a deterrent. Clare had never bought into the theory. But Beth had been resolute about it. And here, at the end of the world, her gate remained shut.

The metal latch screeched as Clare opened it. She left it ajar, knowing their retreat was likely to be quick.

The small brick house stood ahead. Now-dead vines clung to the side walls. Plain cloth curtains blocked the front windows, hiding the comfy chairs and quirky paintings from neighbours’ eyes. Clare couldn’t count how many hours she’d spent inside the home with her sister, sometimes arguing about things that now seemed inconsequential, or laughing as they watched cheesy comedies. She’d known seeing Beth’s house would raise emotions for her. She hadn’t expected them to be so strong.

I came for you, Beth. I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.

Down the side of the house, moving quickly and rolling their feet to minimise noise on the rough pebble path, Dorran and Clare hung close together. A low, steady chattering noise floated across the fence and manicured lawns. It wasn’t too close, not yet, but still closer than Clare would have liked.

A second latched gate opened into the backyard. Trees, shrubs, and flowers, Beth’s pride and joy, filled the area. They were looking worse for wear, just like everything else in the new world. But many of them were still green. It was a little spark of joy in Clare’s heart.

At the garden’s back, between two twisting crape myrtles, was the bunker. Its entrance was discreet, just a square metal door standing between the trees. A concrete tunnel behind it disappeared underground at a ninety-degree angle. The door was closed.

“Okay.” The lump in her throat was choking her, but she squared her shoulders. Seeing the shut door answered the question that had plagued her since she’d lost the radio in Winterbourne’s shed. Beth had chosen suffocation over death at the hollows’ hands.

Stay with the plan. The longer you spend out here, the more danger you’re putting the both of you in. See inside the bunker. It’s the only way you can be certain. But no matter what you find in there, you’re turning around immediately and going back to the car. There isn’t time to bury her. You can grieve on the drive home.

Beth had kept a spare key for the bunker in case Clare ever needed to use it in an emergency.

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