Tomorrow - 02 - The Dead of Night by John Marsden

Author:John Marsden
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Young Adult, Thriller
ISBN: 9780613160872
Published: 1994-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

There was a hint of light in the eastern sky. Or was it my imagination? I’d looked for dawn so many times already, but with no satisfaction. Homer was asleep on my left, mouth open, snoring slightly. My eyes felt heavy and dull; as though they would look glazed and opaque to anyone staring into them. Luckily no one was staring into them. I looked around listlessly. A faint breeze tickled the leaves of the trees, made them move and whisper and play around. In the bush ahead of me a branch cracked and fell. It sounded surprisingly loud, though I didn’t hear it hit the ground. A large bird, a white owl I think, flapped across the top of the cliff.

Then came the unmistakable sound of human footsteps. Only a cow sounds as heavy and purposeful as a human, and there wouldn’t be cows in this dense bush. I felt sick with fear and hope. I grabbed Homer by the shoulder. As he stirred into life, I leant over further and clamped my hand on his mouth. He gurgled a bit, then, as I could tell by the sudden tenseness of his body, he woke.

We both sat there waiting, paralysed. We couldn’t move without making a lot of noise. And the footsteps kept coming. They were accelerating. I stood, crouching, to be ready. I could see a figure weaving through the trees. It was Fi. I held out my arms but she didn’t even look at me. ‘They’re following me,’ she said.

There was a horrible sick pause, then Homer asked quickly, ‘How many?’

‘I don’t know. It might only be one. I’m sorry.’ We turned our ears back to the bush and immediately heard the footsteps, lighter than Fi’s, less certain, less purposeful.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Fi again. ‘I’ve been trying for ages.’ Her voice sounded thick and dead, with no emotion. She was all in. I squeezed her arm, quickly. Homer had picked up a hunk of wood. I wished now that he had his sawn-off shotgun. I looked around for a weapon. There weren’t a lot of choices. I got a rock, about the size of a baseball, and gave it to Fi, but I don’t think she registered what it was for. She just held it loosely, without lifting her arm. I got myself a rock too. None of us was sure what to do; we were just acting instinctively, but instinctively we looked for weapons. We could have scattered and run, but with the cliff behind us and thick bush in front, there weren’t many options. And one look at Fi made it clear we’d have to stand and fight. She was leaning against the tree, the one we would be using as our ladder back up to Hell. Fi’s head was down, but she kept holding the rock. As I glanced at her she suddenly retched and vomited. The sound attracted her pursuer: I heard the footsteps accelerate a little. Whoever it was came straight at us now, with more confidence.

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