Decay Inevitable

Emma held his hand. “What if we can’t get back the way we got in?”

He smiled. “Well, at least it will be fun trying, won’t it?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: THRESHOLD

WHEN HE WENT back to confront George about the marks on his arm, and to ask if he knew of anybody who might help treat his complaint, he saw that George had skin problems of his own. The yards of skin that contained the man had been stuffed into the toilet, as if it was a peel-off costume made of paper that could be flushed away. No other trace of him remained.

He found a cab with a horse attached, but nobody to drive him. As he had no map to show him the way to Sud or Howling Mile or the other place, Mash This, it seemed he was stymied. He needed to find a train station if he was to make any exploration of the countryside count. To understand this landscape might help him go some distance to understanding how he might find Cat. Nothing else mattered to him any more. Sean and Emma were too wrapped up in their own needs to consider the simple urge that now governed his life.

He got into the driver’s seat of the cab and took up the reins. He tried a few encouraging noises, and with a jolt that threw him back in his seat the horse began to trot along the lane. A couple of minutes and the village was behind him. One road lay ahead, bisecting the scorched fields and the crippled, denuded woods. The black sun burnt without heat, and after an hour of their journey it began to snow. Black flakes landed on Will’s skin and burnt into it. He had to draw the sleeves of his jumper over his fingers and hunch his head into his neck to shield himself from the acid flurry. The horse didn’t seem to mind, jogging along gamely, its white mane seething in the wind. No houses were visible on the roadside; no traffic passed him on its way to Gloat Market. He was alone. The fear of that speared him and he wept into his jumper for a while, but knowing that he was in the same place as Cat revived him. He would find her. Imagining how she would look, how she sounded, filled his heart to a point where he thought it must burst. The baby too, might be here, with its mother. All he had wanted was a quiet life. The three of them together, happy.

The horse drew to a standstill. Will shook the reins and made more chivvying noises but to no avail.

“Are you hungry, nag? Is that it?” He felt in his pockets for food but found nothing edible. Under the cushions on his seat was a carrot but when he offered it to the horse, it wasn’t interested.

“What’s wrong? Do you smell something?”

The road stretched ahead of them, seemingly no different from the road they had traversed so far. The same razed fields and stunted trees. The stench of dead things. The bones sticking out of the earth.

He tried tugging on the reins to lead the horse forwards but it strained against him. Will gave up and left the horse where it stood. The road led on for another half-mile or so before it petered out.

“Super,” Will sighed. The terrain grew rockier and the trees disappeared altogether, replaced by spiny bushes. It continued to snow, the large black flakes like wafers of ash from a burning house. Their burn was bearable, once you got used to it. Will clambered over the rocks and saw the house immediately. It was still a way off, but smoke was whipping from its chimney and a single window was a square of pale orange. The sea was here once more, fizzing against the shore, its skin vibrating with reflected crescents of black. Spume made quivering sculptures that the wind tossed into the air. Will reckoned it would take him twenty minutes or so to reach the house, but before he had crossed half the distance, he came across the woman.

She was lying on a ledge on one of the bigger rocks. She looked to be asleep; her limbs were not twisted to indicate a bad fall. Will got down beside her and patted her gently on the shoulder.

“Hello? Are you okay?” His voice, after a long silence, sounded alien to him. It buzzed in his ears, atonal and waspish. But it did the trick. The woman woke, frowning, her mouth moving as she tried to make words come.

“It’s okay. Here, let me help you stand.” Will gently pulled her upright. The woman was flapping her hands around as though batting away flies. Her eyes twitched and then flew open. She regarded Will with shock, as though she had never seen a fellow human being before. And then she screamed. The sound distorted as it came from her lips, glissading into a metallic, digitised howl, something that might be happened upon on a short-wave radio. Flakes of snow found their way into her mouth and she choked and spat them out. Her breath was coming in tight, short blasts.

“It’s okay,” Will soothed, trying to squeeze her hands together so she could do neither him nor herself any harm. “Try to relax. You’re okay now.”

Okay, he thought. Nobody here is okay.