Bay Of The Dead Part 1

BAY OF THE DEAD.

by Mark Morris.

For Alan and Max, who love zombies even more than I do

'Mike's funny, isn't he?'Joe Hargreaves glanced at his wife, Jackie, who was sprawled on the pa.s.senger seat next to him, bare feet tucked up under her thighs. She had kicked off the high heels which made her legs look fantastic, but which she always complained were crippling to wear, and had released the clip which had been holding her carefully sculpted hair in place all evening. Now, with her blue silk dress shimmering in the light from the dashboard and her mahogany hair tumbling about her shoulders, Joe thought she looked gorgeous. He smiled teasingly.'Funnier than me?''Don't be daft.' She matched his smile with her own. 'Funniest man in the world, you are.'His smile widened into a grin. 'It's a natural gift,' he said.'Course,' she murmured nonchalantly, pretending to examine her fingernails, 'I meant funny peculiar, not funny ha-ha.'He adopted an expression of mortification, and a voice to match. 'Oh, now I'm hurt. I'm cut to the quick.'She arched an eyebrow. 'The quick? Where's that then?''Dunno,' he said, shrugging. 'Opposite the slow?'They laughed together. It had been a good night. They had spent it visiting their best friends, Mike and Sue Roach, in Llandaff, and were now on their way home to Cowbridge, full of good food and in Jackie's case good wine, both of them buzzing from an evening of friendship, laughter and great conversation.The night was chilly but clear, silvery moonlight edging the trees, fields and hills that rolled gently outwards on either side of the hard grey artery of the A48. During the day this was a busy road, but now, on the wrong side of eleven o'clock, the twin headlamps of cars heading back towards the bright lights of Cardiff were few and far between.Coc.o.o.ned in the susurrating warmth from the heater and serenaded by the mournful beauty of Elbow's music drifting from the car's sound system, Jackie felt her eyelids drooping closed. She knew that uncurling herself from her seat and stepping out into the cold when they got home would be doubly horrible if she allowed herself to fall asleep, but she didn't care; she was warm and cosy and tired, and right at this moment that was all that mattered.She was three-quarters asleep, the soft roar of the engine and the swirling music becoming part of her dream, when Joe said, 'That's strange.'Reluctantly she opened one eye. 'What is?''This fog. It's appeared from nowhere. Look at it. It's like a barrier. Weird.'Jackie had slumped down in her seat. She struggled upright and peered out through the windscreen. Blinked.'That is is weird,' she said. weird,' she said.The fog, thick and grey and impenetrable, seemed to stretch in a perfectly straight line across the road ahead. It stretched, in fact, as far as the eye could see in either direction, a smoky wall that bisected the landscape to left and right before dissolving into the darkness.Almost unconsciously, Joe slowed the car to a crawl.'It is is fog, I suppose?' said Jackie. 'It's not something. . . solid?' fog, I suppose?' said Jackie. 'It's not something. . . solid?''Course it's fog,' Joe snapped, then flashed her a look of apology. 'Sorry, love, it's just. . . I'm a bit freaked by it, that's all.'Jackie peered out of the pa.s.senger window, knowing that a few miles beyond the night-shrouded landscape were the even darker depths of the Bristol Channel. 'Maybe it's come in off the coast,' she said.Joe made a non-committal sound. It was no kind of explanation, and they both knew it.'Oh well,' he said, 'it is is only fog, I s'pose. What's the worst that can happen?' only fog, I s'pose. What's the worst that can happen?'Without waiting for a reply, he pressed gently down on the accelerator and the car rumbled forward.Entering the fog was like having a thick grey blanket thrown over them. Jackie tensed, clenching her fists, holding her breath. The light from the headlamps bounced back, as if from a mirror, dazzling them. Instinctively, Joe braked.'I'm not happy about this,' he said.'Just keep going,' said Jackie. 'It's a freak fog bank, that's all. Cold and warm air colliding or something. Just take it slowly and we'll be through it in a minute.'Joe nodded, and for the next few minutes the car crept forward at little more than twenty miles an hour. All the while, the fog rushed and swirled towards them like something furious and alive. Mesmerised and unnerved, Jackie forced herself to blink, told herself she couldn't really really see shapes trying to form from the muscular grey vapour. Her brain was simply trying to make sense of the constantly shifting shapelessness of it. It was a natural human reaction like seeing faces in clouds, or looking for patterns in the chaos of nature. see shapes trying to form from the muscular grey vapour. Her brain was simply trying to make sense of the constantly shifting shapelessness of it. It was a natural human reaction like seeing faces in clouds, or looking for patterns in the chaos of nature.It wasn't only her sight that was affected, though. She fancied she could smell smell the fog, like thick, sour soup, and she was equally certain that it was playing havoc with her hearing, filling her ears like cotton wool, blurring the music into a mushy buzz, reducing the throaty growl of the engine to flat, bland static. She opened her mouth wide, trying to yawn, hoping her ears might pop. And then she the fog, like thick, sour soup, and she was equally certain that it was playing havoc with her hearing, filling her ears like cotton wool, blurring the music into a mushy buzz, reducing the throaty growl of the engine to flat, bland static. She opened her mouth wide, trying to yawn, hoping her ears might pop. And then she did did yawn, and was dismayed to find that it made no difference. She felt a stab of anxiety. Maybe the fog was toxic; maybe it was affecting them physically, like nerve gas or something. She wondered whether she should say something to Joe, but she was almost afraid to speak, in case she found out that she could no longer string two words together. yawn, and was dismayed to find that it made no difference. She felt a stab of anxiety. Maybe the fog was toxic; maybe it was affecting them physically, like nerve gas or something. She wondered whether she should say something to Joe, but she was almost afraid to speak, in case she found out that she could no longer string two words together.And then suddenly, without warning, they were through.It happened in a blink. One second they were crawling forward through impenetrable greyness, and the next the road ahead was clear, and the moon fat and bright again, spilling its light onto the land.Joe was so shocked that he stamped on the brake, stalling the car.'What just happened?'Jackie jerked forward, her seatbelt clamping across her chest. Then she twisted round, to look out through the back windscreen. Incredibly there was no sign of the fog behind them. Just the evenly s.p.a.ced lights above the carriageway, dwindling into blackness.'I dunno,' she said. She was relieved that the fog had gone, but scared too.'Ten past eleven,' Joe said, glancing at the glowing green digits of the dashboard clock.'What's that got to do with anything?' Jackie asked.Joe grinned, but it was sickly, feeble. 'I wondered whether we'd. . . lost a chunk of time. It's what's supposed to happen when people get abducted by aliens.''Abducted by aliens?' Jackie scoffed, fear making her angrier than she would ordinarily have been. 'Are you serious?''No,' said Joe, 'I suppose not. We haven't lost time, in any case.' He grinned again, trying to make light of it. 'Maybe we should check each other for puncture wounds, though.''Let's just get home,' Jackie said.Joe nodded and started the car up again. Jackie was wide awake now. They set off, and had been travelling for a minute in tense silence when Joe said, 'This can't be right.''What is it now?' Jackie asked.'Is it just me or have we already been on this bit of road? About ten minutes back?'She shrugged. 'Dunno. It all looks the same to me. Anyway, I was asleep.''Yeah, look,' he said, pointing, 'there's the sign for Bonvilston. This is just. . . this doesn't make sense.''Maybe there're two signs,' said Jackie.Joe shook his head. 'No, that's definitely the one we pa.s.sed ten minutes ago.''Well, it can't have been, can it?' The impossibility of the situation was making Jackie snappish again. She swallowed, trying to control her fear. 'You must have just. . . taken a wrong turn or something.''I've been driving in a straight line,' Joe said.'It's the fog,' said Jackie. 'You must have driven up a slip road without realising it. Looped round in a circle. It's easily done.''Yeah, you're probably right,' said Joe, but he sounded unconvinced.He drove on, mouth set in a grim line, hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles stood out in sharp white points. For a few minutes neither of them spoke. Both stared at the road ahead.Then Jackie's eyes widened. 'Oh G.o.d,' she breathed.The fog was back, same as before, a thick, solid wall of it, directly in front of them.There was something intimidating about it. Something sinister and challenging. But when he spoke, Joe's voice was carefully upbeat, almost jaunty.'Well, I suppose this supports your theory that we've come in a circle. We'll just have to be more careful this time.'Jackie nodded, but said nothing. She felt the muscles in her arms and stomach tightening, instinctively pressed herself back into her seat as the fog enshrouded them again. She'd always hated roller-coasters, always hated that moment when the car clanked its way to the top of the incline and was inching forward in readiness for the downward plunge.She felt like that now. That awful antic.i.p.ation. That sense of being out of control and unable to do a thing about it.Stupid, she told herself. What is there to be scared What is there to be scared- Without warning, a figure loomed out of the fog.She only caught a glimpse of it before Joe was yelling, and yanking on the wheel, and the car was slewing sideways. But in that split second she got the impression of someone tall and ragged and oddly lopsided; someone standing directly in the path of the car, head tilted to one side as if it was too heavy for the spindly neck that was supporting it. She saw no other details. The figure was nothing but a charcoal-grey silhouette on a pearly-grey background.And then the car hit the figure side-on with a sickeningly loud bang, and the figure flew backwards, as though s.n.a.t.c.hed away by some vast predator. Suddenly the car was spinning madly, and the tyres were screeching, and Jackie was being thrown about as if she weighed nothing.Even as pain exploded in her shoulder and knee as she whacked them on the seat and door, a sharp, almost searing memory came to her of being seven years old and clinging to the safety bar of the waltzer in the fairground and wishing it would stop. And then, hot on the heels of that, she thought with an almost lucid calmness: This is going to be the biggest impact I've ever known. I wonder if I'll die. This is going to be the biggest impact I've ever known. I wonder if I'll die.Then suddenly there was silence, and she was lying at a strange angle across her seat, pressed back by the air bag. There was a smell in the air, fumes and hot metal, and she could taste blood in her mouth, and when she tried to move her leg a hot, jagged corkscrew of pain leaped from her shinbone to her hip, making her cry out.Joe spoke. She couldn't see him, but she heard his voice, cracked and shaky. 'Jacks, are you OK?'She opened her mouth to answer and it was full of blood. She spat it out.'Hurt my leg,' she said.She heard Joe shift beside her, then grunt softly in pain. 'I need to call for help,' he said, 'but I can't get a signal. I think it's this b.l.o.o.d.y fog.'There was a screech of metal. Jackie couldn't think what it was at first, and then realised it must be the sound of the buckled driver's door being pushed open.'What are you doing?' she said, fighting down panic.'I need to get help,' he said again. 'I'm going to walk back along the road a bit, see if I can get a signal.''Don't leave me, Joe,' Jackie said.'It'll only be for a few minutes. I need to call for an ambulance. And I need to find out what happened to that bloke we hit.''Don't leave me,' she said again.'I'm not going to leave you,' he said. 'I'll be back in a few minutes, Jacks. Promise. Just. . . just try and relax, all right?'She heard a creak of metal as he shifted his weight. A hiss of pain. Then the sound of his footsteps as he hobbled away, into the fog. His footsteps grew fainter, and then suddenly she couldn't hear them any more. She felt a sudden surge of loneliness, which threatened to escalate into outright panic. She breathed deeply, in and out, fighting to bring it under control. She told herself that everything would be fine, that Joe would get help, and that soon they would be in the hospital or at home, a bit bruised and battered, maybe, but wrapped up snug and warm in front of the telly, sipping nice hot cups of tea.Because of the air bag she couldn't see much. Just a portion of the shattered pa.s.senger window and the swirling grey fog beyond. Curls of vapour were drifting in through the window, acrid and cold.She was just beginning to wonder how much longer Joe was going to be when a terrible, ratcheting scream came tearing out of the fog.It was an awful sound, barely human, and yet Jackie knew that it had come from her husband's throat. Gripped by freezing terror, she started to shake and cry. She tried to move, and her spine erupted with white-hot pain, so intense that she almost blacked out.Then another scream tore into the echoes of the last, a high bubbling wail of pure agony. Now Jackie felt alternately hot and cold as sheer sickening panic surged through her. Terrified and helpless, she told herself that this couldn't be happening, it couldn't, it couldn't couldn't. . .She tried to call her husband's name, to scream for help, but she couldn't make a sound.Not even when she heard the slow, dragging footsteps coming towards the car.Not even when a hand that was more bone than flesh reached in through the window.

ONE

'Right then, boys, who's up for a little jaunt round the Bay?'It was Steffan who'd spoken. Toby looked at him, then glanced at the flushed faces around the gla.s.s-laden table. Not for the first time he found himself wondering whether a single one of his new friends if that was really what they were felt as dislocated and as. . . well, homesick homesick as he did. as he did.Like every other first-year, Toby had been at Cardiff University for about four weeks now. Four weeks of partying and drinking and meeting new people. Yet, despite it all, he still still found himself trying to shake off the notion that he was an outsider, that he didn't fit in. Everyone else seemed to have cemented themselves quickly and easily into student life, so why hadn't he? Though he would never have admitted it to anyone, he badly missed his mum and dad, and his mates, and all the familiar things and places back in Leicester. He missed his girlfriend Lauren, too, even though they'd decided to cool it a bit now that they were going off to different universities. G.o.d, he even missed his annoying little sister, Jess, and her obsession with MSN. found himself trying to shake off the notion that he was an outsider, that he didn't fit in. Everyone else seemed to have cemented themselves quickly and easily into student life, so why hadn't he? Though he would never have admitted it to anyone, he badly missed his mum and dad, and his mates, and all the familiar things and places back in Leicester. He missed his girlfriend Lauren, too, even though they'd decided to cool it a bit now that they were going off to different universities. G.o.d, he even missed his annoying little sister, Jess, and her obsession with MSN.What's wrong with me? he thought. he thought. Why can't I just enjoy myself? Why can't I just let myself go? Why can't I just enjoy myself? Why can't I just let myself go?Maybe it was the people. Maybe he'd fallen in with the wrong crowd. Sports Management attracted all sorts, but because of his room-mate, Curtis, he'd found himself stuck with the hard-drinking rugger-b.u.g.g.e.rs. Toby had never thought of himself as a party p.o.o.per, but he just didn't see the point of getting blotto every night. It wasn't even as if drinking with this lot helped him loosen up; in fact, the more raucous and obnoxious his new friends became, the more he found himself retreating into his sh.e.l.l.'What do you mean by a jaunt?' Curtis asked now. He was a Londoner, and wore his hair in short, beaded dreadlocks. He was tall and worked out a lot. He wore white skinny-fit T-shirts to emphasise his rippling muscles. The guys sometimes called him Audley because he looked like Audley Harrison, the boxer.Steffan grinned, stood up and delved in his pockets. He was big and solid too, though not as toned as Curtis. He was from Newport, and because of his local knowledge he'd pretty much appointed himself leader of the group. n.o.body else seemed to mind, but Toby wasn't keen on Steffan. He found him arrogant and sarcastic and, despite his own homesickness, he couldn't help finding it a bit pathetic that the guy had chosen a university only a mile or two up the road from where his parents lived.Steffan held up both hands. In one was a set of keys, in the other what looked like a black credit card.'What's that?' asked Greg. He was a thick-necked Scouser, and he was so drunk that he could hardly keep his eyes open.'These are the keys to my uncle's yacht,' Steffan said, jangling them, 'and this is the security fob that'll get us into Penarth Marina, where he keeps it.''Your uncle's got a yacht yacht?' said Curtis in disbelief.'Twelve-metre cruiser,' said Steffan smugly.Stan, who was tall and rangy and had had football trials with QPR and his local team, Southport, shook his head, lank hair flapping like rat's tails across his face. 'How the other half lives.''What's he do then, this uncle of yours?' asked Curtis.'He's a butcher,' said Steffan.'Get lost!''Not a word of a lie. Got a meat-processing plant up in Merthyr, hasn't he? Makes a fortune from pies and sausages and that.''Does he know you've got the keys to his yacht?' asked Toby.Steffan sneered. 'What do you you think?' Then he shrugged. 'Not that he'd be bothered, mind. Long as we don't wreck it, he'll think it's a laugh, us taking it out for a midnight jaunt. He was a bit of a lad himself, in his day. Still is, I reckon.' He jangled the keys again. 'So what's it to be, boys? Who's up for it?' think?' Then he shrugged. 'Not that he'd be bothered, mind. Long as we don't wreck it, he'll think it's a laugh, us taking it out for a midnight jaunt. He was a bit of a lad himself, in his day. Still is, I reckon.' He jangled the keys again. 'So what's it to be, boys? Who's up for it?'Curtis glanced briefly round at the group, then nodded. 'Yeah, I'm in. Like you say, it'll be a laugh.''Me too,' said Stan. 'I ain't never been on a yacht before.''Greg?' said Steffan.Greg raised a hand and waved it drunkenly. 'Yeah, whatever.'Before anyone could ask him, Toby pushed his chair back. 'I think I'll give it a miss, guys, if you don't mind. I'm really tired and-'Immediately there was a storm of protest.If it had been good-natured banter, Toby might not have minded. But their comments were nasty, bullish, scathing. Steffan in particular made it clear that he thought Toby was not only snubbing them, but voicing his disapproval at the same time.'Think you're better than us, you do,' he said.'No, I don't,' said Toby.'Yeah, you do. You think we're a load of idiots, just cos we like to have a laugh.''I didn't say that.''You didn't need to. You're like an old woman, all pursed lips and hoity-toity.'Before Toby could respond, Stan said, 'I reckon he's just scared cos he thinks he'll get in trouble.'Then they were all making chicken noises and flapping their arms like wings, and in the end Toby found himself tagging along just to save face. He trailed miserably in their wake as they crossed the Cardiff Bay Barrage to Penarth. He watched them shoving and jostling each other, giggling like kids on a school outing, and he felt more like a pariah than ever, even though it was they who'd insisted he come along.He half-hoped they'd get some trouble at Penarth Quay, half-hoped the security fob would not be enough to grant them access to the Marina. But Steffan simply swiped the card, tapped in his uncle's security pin and they were through. The night-shift guy manning the Marina Office even waved to them as they pa.s.sed by.'Here it is, boys,' Steffan said a couple of minutes later. 'What do you think?'As one, they goggled in drunken disbelief at the craft bobbing sedately on the water before them. The yacht was elegant and immaculately maintained. Constructed of gleaming white fibregla.s.s, it had a single mast, plenty of deck s.p.a.ce and a sizeable central cabin area. Even Toby couldn't help but be impressed, though the prospect of his drunken companions taking such a beautiful and no doubt hideously expensive vessel out on the water filled him with dread.'This is so sweet sweet, man,' exclaimed Curtis, laughing and clapping his hands.'Bleedin' amazing,' nodded Stan, awestruck.'Do you know how to drive it?' Toby asked nervously, and again Steffan shot him a look so scathing that Toby decided that, starting tomorrow, he would find himself a new set of friends.'Course I do. Nothing to it, is there. I mean, it's not as if we're going to encounter much traffic traffic.'The boys all sn.i.g.g.e.red at Toby's expense. Steffan leaped from the jetty to the deck, staggering a little.'Well, come on then, gents. Climb aboard.'One by one they stepped across the divide between jetty and deck. Greg, the drunkest of them, took a few tottering steps sideways and fell over. Toby laughed along with everyone else, but anxiety still gnawed away inside him. Steffan unlocked the door that led down to the living quarters.'There's beers in the fridge, a bog at the far end, and there's even a bed for everyone, if you fancy a little lie down.'Curtis descended the steps into the saloon, shaking his head in gleeful wonder. 'Man, I do not believe this,' he muttered. 'This is the height height of luxury.' of luxury.''Only one rule,' Steffan said as Stan and Greg followed Curtis below decks. 'No throwing up down there. If you want to puke you do it over the side.'Toby hesitated a moment, contemplating whether to join his friends. Then he turned away and walked over to lean on the metal guard rail which edged the perimeter of the deck, deciding that he couldn't stand another minute of their drunken banter. He stood on the seaward side, looking out over the black water, the chill winter wind ruffling his hair. He wondered what Lauren was doing now. She was at Durham University, and the last time he'd spoken to her, almost two weeks ago, she'd told him she was having a brilliant time.'Feeling a bit d.i.c.ky, are we?'Steffan asked the question as though it was a failing. Toby half-turned to face him.'No, just fancied some fresh air,' he said.Steffan snorted, and headed towards the small wheelhouse, which contained the engine controls and navigational equipment. Toby sighed and turned back to gaze over the black water. Blades of reflected moonlight flashed and sparkled on the crests of the swells; tiny waves lapped against the hull. From the saloon floated s.n.a.t.c.hes of throaty, ragged laughter. With a low rumble the engine started up, and then the yacht was moving, sliding out from its berth, heading into the Bay, like a vast and elegant marine creature released from captivity.It cut through the water with barely a ripple, and within a few minutes they had left the lights of Cardiff Bay behind. Gradually Toby started to relax. It seemed as though Steffan knew how to handle the craft after all. Maybe this wasn't wasn't going to be the disaster he'd envisaged. going to be the disaster he'd envisaged.He breathed in the sharp, salty air and looked up at the moon. He wondered whether any of the guys below decks were talking about him, asking where he was. It still felt weird leaving home, cutting the ap.r.o.n strings. Ridiculous though it seemed, it hadn't sunk in that that was what he'd done until Mum and Dad had said goodbye after getting him settled into the poky room he shared with Curtis in one of the university's halls of residence. Oh, he would go home for Christmas, and even the odd weekend, but as far as living permanently with his parents was concerned, that part of his life was now over. He supposed when he graduated he'd find a job and get his own place somewhere. He'd been looking forward to his independence for a long time, had thought how great it would be to be answerable to n.o.body but himself but he had to admit that the sudden reality of it had come as a bit of a shock.Toby was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he didn't notice the bank of fog until they were almost upon it. He glanced up, then stepped back from the rail in sudden shock. For a moment he'd thought they were about to hit something solid, a grey concrete wall stretching across the ocean. Certainly the fog seemed as straight and unbroken as a wall. It was weird the way it seemed to just sit on the surface of the sea like a barrier or something.If Steffan in the wheelhouse had noticed the fog, he didn't seem perturbed by it. The yacht surged forward without faltering, and moments later the fog had swallowed them up.Toby shuddered. There was an acrid smell, like sour milk or bad breath, and the fog itself had an almost oily texture to it. Tendrils coiled around him like the ghosts of eels. He remembered an old movie about a guy in a boat who starts to shrink after pa.s.sing through a weird kind of mist out at sea. Stupid, of course, but it made Toby hope that he wasn't inhaling anything poisonous.He couldn't see more than a few metres in any direction. He hoped Steffan had sonar or radar or something up there in the wheelhouse. If some other vessel loomed out of the fog now, they wouldn't see it until it was too late. Toby listened, but heard nothing except an eerie silence. Rather than feeling relieved, however, he was suddenly struck by the awful notion that he was alone on the yacht, that Steffan and the others had gone, spirited away by something lurking out there in the dark depths of the ocean. He half-turned, intending to make his way to the wheelhouse, so desperate for human company that he was even prepared to put up with Steffan's contemptuous remarks. And then, as abruptly as it had appeared, the fog was gone.Toby swayed, momentarily disorientated. What the h.e.l.l was going on? A second ago he hadn't been able to see more than a metre or so in front of him, yet now the sky was clear again, the glittering stars diamond-sharp, the unveiled moon edging the curves and contours of the deck in hard white light.He consoled himself with the thought that maybe this was normal; that maybe it was some common seafaring phenomenon; that maybe, as a sailor, you'd be used to this kind of thing happening all the time. Perhaps the best thing was simply to shrug it off, accept it as one of countless strange quirks in a world that was full of weirdness. He turned to settle himself once more against the guard rail when he heard pounding footsteps behind him. Looking round he saw Steffan approaching across the deck, a scowl on his face.'What the h.e.l.l's going on?' the Welshman demanded.For a moment Toby thought he was being accused of something, and then he realised that it was a rhetorical question. Steffan all but threw himself against the guard rail, glaring at the sea as though issuing it a challenge.Hesitantly Toby asked, 'How do you mean?'Steffan glanced at him. 'b.l.o.o.d.y navigation's gone haywire, hasn't it?' He swung round, then did an almost cla.s.sic double take. 'This is mad,' he muttered.Toby followed his gaze. At first he wasn't sure what he was seeing, and then all at once it struck him.The lights of Cardiff Bay, although still some distance away, were bright enough not only to delineate the shape of the sh.o.r.eline, but to highlight details of many of the buildings cl.u.s.tered at the water's edge. The effect was undeniably attractive the pattern of lights coalescing to bathe the land in a welcoming glow and yet this particular view should not have been visible at all. They had left the lights of Cardiff Bay behind them some time ago. Toby himself had watched them dwindle and wink out, until all that was left was a vague orange haze, like a distant fire on the horizon.'What do you think's happened?' he asked.'I don't know, do I?' snapped Steffan. Then his face changed from anger to an almost boyish confusion. 'It's impossible, that's what it is.''We must have turned round in the fog,' said Toby.'We haven't.''But we must must have.' have.'Steffan's lips curled to deliver some harsh rejoinder, but at that moment Curtis, Stan and a dazed-looking Greg came pounding up the steps from below.'What's that noise, man?' Curtis demanded.Steffan turned irritably. 'What noise?' noise?''I think we've hit something,' Stan said.Steffan's face flushed, the heat rising up from the collar of his pale blue polo shirt, suffusing his ears and cheeks. 'Course we haven't,' he barked. 'We're out in the middle of the Bay, you daft sod.''Well, something something was sc.r.a.ping against the bottom of the boat,' said Curtis. was sc.r.a.ping against the bottom of the boat,' said Curtis.'We all heard it,' added Stan.'Could've been a shipwreck or something,' Curtis suggested.'A shipwreck?' Steffan's voice was a strangled croak. 'What do you think this is? Pirates of the b.l.o.o.d.y Caribbean?'Curtis's brow furrowed, and he was about to respond when they heard a deep, steady pounding beneath their feet, followed by a more irregular series of thuds and bangs. They all looked at each other. Steffan's face was puce now, his eyes all but popping out of his head.'What the h.e.l.l was that?' said Toby quietly.Stan had wandered across to the side of the boat and was peering over the guard rail. 'Er. . . boys,' he said.'What now?' barked Steffan.'There's, er, something in the water.'They all crowded up to the guard rail to look. Toby saw a dozen or more dark, spherical objects bobbing on the gentle black swells, which rose and fell around the yacht.'What are they?' asked Curtis. 'Seals?''Maybe they're lifebuoys,' said Stan.Toby caught a flash of movement to his left. He looked around just in time to see a grey hand reach up over the side of the deck and curl around the lowest rung of the guard rail.He stepped back on to Greg's toe, his mouth dropping open. Stan had seen the hand now too. He let out an incoherent croak and pointed.Toby had time to observe that the hand was wrinkled and pitted, that strips of flesh were hanging off it like rags.Then he saw the hand tighten and haul the rest of the body into view, and suddenly it felt as though the air had been wrenched from his lungs.The creature must once have been human, but now its face was a hollow ruin. Wriggling white eels poured from its empty eye sockets and gaping mouth, spattering on the deck in writhing clumps. The creature's clothes were nothing but colourless tatters, its ribs showing between the rents in its saturated grey flesh. It turned its head towards them, and Toby had the feeling that it could see or at least sense them, despite the fact that it had no eyes.The boys cl.u.s.tered together instinctively, like sheep menaced by a wolf. Toby heard Stan muttering 's.h.i.t' over and over; he heard someone whimpering like a child he thought it might be Steffan. He himself was silent, his mind numb with disbelief; he actually wondered whether he might be dreaming. He looked to his left, and saw another corpse hauling itself over the side of the boat. It was a woman this time, her face purple and bloated, her floral-patterned dress covered in slime. Then there was a noise behind them, and a child scrambled crab-like onto the deck, dripping weed tangled in its hair, the wound in its throat so severe that Toby could see its spinal column through it. Within moments the yacht was overrun, the dead swarming up out of the water from all directions.With nowhere to run, Toby squeezed his eyes tightly shut and thought of Lauren.

TWO

Gwen was awake in an instant, her hand reaching for her gun. But her gun wasn't there; of course it wasn't. She was at home in bed, curled beneath the duvet in her jim-jams, Rhys snoring quietly beside her.She sat up, pushing a curtain of glossy black hair out of her face. She imagined she could still hear the scream that had woken her, echoing in the silence. Could it have been a dream? It was possible. She'd had plenty of nightmares since Owen and Tosh had died on that awful day. She knew she'd been a bit clingy with Rhys since then, but he'd been brilliant. She looked down at him now, one hand tucked under his head, mouth slightly open, and she smiled. She reached out to gently stroke his hair. . . and heard the clanging clatter of a dustbin lid from the back alley.She was out of bed, across the narrow landing and wrestling with the stiff catch of the bathroom window before the edge of the duvet had even settled into place behind her. Finally winning her battle with the catch, she shoved the window open and stuck her head out.She couldn't see much. The angles were all wrong. Just a jutting length of wall, stretching down to a sliver of ground, and the edge of a dustbin, viewed from above, peeking around the corner. All of it was soaked in the orange light of an overhead lamp, and gleamed grittily in the drizzle that Gwen could feel speckling the back of her exposed neck.Ducking back inside, she tugged the window shut, shivering at the chill.'What's going on?' said a voice behind her.She spun, startled. Rhys was standing there in T-shirt and boxers, face rumpled from sleep, hair sticking up every which way.'Rhys!' Gwen gasped and slapped him lightly on the chest. 'Don't do that to me. I nearly had a heart attack.'He grinned boyishly. 'Oh, that's charming, that is. Frightened of me after all the horrible things you've seen.' He nodded at the now-closed window. 'What you doing anyway?''I heard something,' she said.'One of those Weevil things, was it?''I heard a scream. Thought Thought I heard a scream. It woke me up. Then I heard a clatter, like a dustbin lid falling off.' I heard a scream. It woke me up. Then I heard a clatter, like a dustbin lid falling off.''Want me to go have a look?'She couldn't help smiling. 'Don't be daft. If anyone's going to go, it should be me.'Rhys looked offended. 'Hey, you might be a rough, tough defender of the planet at work, Mrs Williams Mrs Williams, but let a bloke have a bit of pride in his own home.'Gwen chuckled and kissed him on the forehead. 'Fine. We'll go together.'Two minutes later they had dragged on clothes and boots and were hurrying down the stairs of the apartment block. Ignoring the front door, they headed towards the heavily bolted door at the back of the building, which led out into the narrow alleyway threading between their street and the one parallel. Gwen reached the door as Rhys was still thumping down the last flight of stairs, and began drawing back the thick bolts.'Let me go first,' Rhys panted.Gwen used one hand to twist the catch on the door and the other to produce her Torchwood-issue semi-automatic from inside her leather jacket.'I'm the one with the gun,' she replied, raising her eyebrows.Rhys pulled a face. 'Come on, love, bit of an overreaction, don't you think? Not every disturbance in Cardiff is caused by psychotic aliens, you know. It's more likely to be Betty Prudom's cat.''I know, but still. . . better safe than sorry,' Gwen said and slipped outside.By the time Rhys had followed her into the chill drizzle of the night, Gwen was already stalking down the alley, black and silent, looking not unlike a cat herself. Her shadow stretching out long and thin before her, she moved towards the brick extension jutting from the rear of the building, which narrowed the alley still further and hid the line of dustbins from view.Rhys hurried towards her, footsteps crackling on the wet ground. She turned and placed a finger to her lips. He rolled his eyes.'Listen,' she whispered.He listened. Something was moving in the alley, shuffling around near the bins. Something that sounded bigger than a cat.Left hand cupped around her right, in which she held her gun, Gwen crept forward. She reached the wall, flattened her back against it, sidled up to the edge and peered around the corner.She went very still. Rhys was beside her now, feeling like a bit of a spare part.'Well?' he hissed. 'What can you see?'Her head jerked round to look at him, hair swishing across her face. Her eyes were wide, face taut with disbelief.'What is it, Gwen? Talk to me,' he said.Suddenly she was a blur of movement. Instead of replying, she swung out into the alley, body poised and balanced, arms extended, gun pointing at whatever was moving about by the bins.'Get up slowly,' she barked. 'Keep your hands where I can see them.'For a split second Rhys wondered whether he ought to stay where he was, out of sight. Then he thought, Sod that Sod that, and moved across to stand beside his wife.He had a clear view of the alley now, all the way to the sagging chain-link fence at the far end. To their immediate right, snug against the back of the house, was a line of metal dustbins, one per flat, each with a big white number painted on its lid.Rhys barely registered any of this. He was too busy goggling at the figure squatting on the ground no more than five metres away. He shuddered as a wave of revulsion and cold, p.r.i.c.kling fear swept through him.The man a tramp, judging by the rags he was wearing was eating a cat. Rhys thought it might be the old ginger tom which belonged to Betty, their downstairs neighbour, but it was hard to be sure. The poor animal had been ripped apart and devoured, like a roast chicken at a medieval banquet. Most of its remains were lying on the ground at the man's feet, a mangled ma.s.s of fur and gore. Even now, as if oblivious to their presence, the man was gnawing on one of the animal's detached limbs, his chin and clothes smeared liberally in blood and guts.'Oh, Christ,' Rhys muttered, 'that's disgusting.'Gwen glanced at him, then turned back to the man. 'I told you you to to stand up! stand up!' she shouted.The man paused, and then he c.o.c.ked his head in a strangely animalistic way, as if Gwen's voice was very faint and it was taking him a long time to register her words.And then his head snapped up with a sudden, horrible jerk, and they saw his face properly for the first time.'Oh G.o.d,' Rhys murmured.The man had no nose. Just a hole where his nose should have been. And his eyes were milky white. And his skin, dry and brown like old leaves, was stretched so tightly across the jutting bones of his skull that his mouth seemed lipless, exposing his black gums and blocky, meat-clogged teeth. As the man lurched upright, Rhys noticed other things about him too. He noticed that one of the man's fingers was missing at the second knuckle, and that the bone was sticking out like a splintered stick; he noticed that the man's feet were bare, and that the skin covering them had split in places, to reveal the sinews and tendons beneath.And he noticed the smell. The awful, stomach-churning stench of something dead.The man let out a sound from his ravaged throat, a horrible animal sound that was somewhere between a groan and a snarl. Then he raised his gore-gloved hands and lurched towards them.'Get back!' Gwen screamed at him. 'Get back, or G.o.d help me, I'll shoot you! 'Get back, or G.o.d help me, I'll shoot you!'The man didn't even falter. He came at them, his face twisting into an expression of malice that was somehow mindless, utterly devoid of conscious thought.Gwen shot him. The bullet blasted into his shoulder, leaving a sizeable hole, chunks of flesh and bone flying in all directions.The man spun and fell, knocked back by the impact. Lowering her gun slightly, but still wary, Gwen took a step towards him.The man scrambled to his feet and lurched towards them again. Gwen stepped back, almost slipping. Rhys grabbed her arm.'Come on, love. You're not going to stop him. Let's just run.'Gwen looked shaken and bewildered. She nodded, and the two of them ran back to the door leading into the apartment block. However, the door was on a spring and had clicked shut behind them. Mouth dry, Rhys delved into his jeans pocket with a trembling hand. It was a tight fit and the key ring was tangled up with all sorts of other stuff loose change, a crumpled tissue, receipts from work.'Come on on, Rhys,' Gwen said. 'It's right behind us.''I'm trying,' he said.'Well, try a bit harder.'Rhys could hear the shuffling approach of the thing coming up behind them. Could hear its awful snarling groan. Snarling himself, he grabbed the key ring and wrenched. Money and paper flew out of his pocket, but he didn't care. With fingers that felt fat and clumsy, he found the right key and shoved it into the lock. The key turned, the door opened, and they tumbled into the building.Gwen slammed the door shut and slid the bolts home, while Rhys, his legs suddenly very shaky, sank to the floor. He was sweating and gasping, as though he had just run the 400 metres. He clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking.Gwen stepped back from the door as a heavy weight slammed against it from the other side. The thing growled in apparent frustration, and continued to slam against the door, as though unable to understand why it couldn't get at them.Rhys looked up at Gwen, who was blinking and taking deep breaths.'I'm not imagining it, am I?' he said. 'That bloke was was dead, wasn't he?' dead, wasn't he?'Gwen rolled her eyes, shrugged and snorted out a laugh that had no humour in it whatsoever. Then she took her mobile out of her pocket.'I'm calling Jack,' she said.

THREE

'You ready yet, Kirst?' called Sophie, pushing open the door of the ladies'.'Two more minutes,' Kirsty shouted back. 'Just putting my face on.'It had been a busy night in El Puerto El Puerto, the fish and meat restaurant located in the Old Custom House, just across the road from Penarth Marina. But then every every night in night in El Puerto El Puerto was busy. The place was an incessant buzz of energy and conviviality and, from the beginning to the end of their shift, Sophie Gould and her best friend Kirsty Lane were constantly on the move, scurrying between tables, taking orders, pouring wine and champagne, and delivering plates of red snapper, steaming lobster and sea ba.s.s to hungry punters. It was hard work, but they loved it, and the tips alone were almost enough to pay for a decent night out. was busy. The place was an incessant buzz of energy and conviviality and, from the beginning to the end of their shift, Sophie Gould and her best friend Kirsty Lane were constantly on the move, scurrying between tables, taking orders, pouring wine and champagne, and delivering plates of red snapper, steaming lobster and sea ba.s.s to hungry punters. It was hard work, but they loved it, and the tips alone were almost enough to pay for a decent night out.As Kirsty finally emerged from the loo, snapping shut her sequinned shoulder bag, Terry, the deputy manager, appeared from behind the display counter, wiping his hands on a tea towel.'You two must really love this place,' he said.'Been getting ready, haven't we?' said Kirsty.'We're going clubbing,' Sophie added.'Blimey, you've got some stamina, I'll say that for you.'Kirsty winked at him. 'A lot more than you could handle, mate.'She was tiny and raven-haired, with big brown eyes, and it was obvious to Sophie that Terry fancied her rotten. As the deputy manager blushed through a grin, Sophie said, 'Come on, Kirst, let's be off. Save your flirting muscles for later.'Saying goodnight to Terry, they tottered towards the door on their heels. They were almost there when he called after them. 'By the way, while you two were out back beautifying yourselves, you missed all the excitement.'Kirsty glanced back at him. 'What excitement was that, then?''There's something going on down by the Marina, isn't there,' he told them. 'They've cordoned it all off. There's police, ambulances, the lot.'Now Kirsty turned her big, shining eyes on her friend. She loved a bit of drama. 'Hey, come on, Soph, let's have a nosy.'Sophie sighed. She'd much rather be downing a spritzer in a nice bar than standing out in the cold, but she knew there was no stopping Kirsty when she got a bee in her bonnet.'Two minutes, tops,' she conceded. 'I'm not standing around all night.'They went outside. It was not hard to identify the site of the incident. Quite a crowd had already gathered behind a sizeable barrier of fluorescent yellow tape. A standing metal sign read: POLICE RESTRICTED ZONE. Parked within the barrier were a pair of ambulances and four police cars, their blue lights flashing silently. Arc lamps had been set up down by the jetty and seemed to be trained on a yacht berthed beside a police patrol boat. Uniformed men milled everywhere.Kirsty tapped a fellow rubbernecker on the shoulder. He was an elderly gent with a white moustache, wearing a navy blue blazer, white slacks and white shoes. Sophie was pretty sure she'd seen him earlier in the restaurant.'What's going on, mister?' Kirsty asked.The elderly man looked her up and down before answering. When he opened his mouth to speak, Sophie noticed with distaste that his teeth were very yellow.'I've no idea,' he said waspishly. 'All I know is that I'm unable to get access to my boat. It's d.a.m.ned inconvenient.'A younger, thicker-set man turned round. His accent identified him as a local. 'They reckon there's been a murder.''That's what the police have said, is it?' Sophie asked.'Well. . . not as such,' the man admitted. 'Not to me, anyway. But that's what everyone reckons.'Sophie touched her friend on the arm. 'Aw, c'mon, Kirst, let's go. Whatever's happening, we'll read about it in the paper tomorrow.'Kirsty had the expression of a little kid being dragged away from a funfair. 'Just a couple more minutes,' she pleaded.'What's the point? We won't find out anything. It's not like they're going to make an announce-'The end of her sentence was cut off by the roar of a powerful engine and the screech of brakes from behind them. She turned to see a shiny black SUV with smoked windows, lines of flickering blue lights edging the windscreen. The front doors opened and two men jumped out. One was a handsome, chisel-jawed man who looked to be somewhere in his late thirties. With his army greatcoat, navy blue shirt, braces, chinos and boots, he reminded Sophie of an old-fashioned hero from a boy's adventure comic. His companion was younger, grim-faced but kind of sweet-looking. He wore an immaculate charcoal-grey suit, a white shirt and a pink-and-purple striped silk tie, and was fiddling with his cufflinks as he emerged from the SUV. Sophie noticed that both men had fancy little Bluetooth devices attached to their ears, and wondered if they were 'spooks', like off the telly.'Make way, ladies and gentlemen. No photographs please,' the older man called in an American accent, cutting through the crowd. There was a wide and rather charming smile on his face and, whilst his voice was jocular, Sophie sensed that there was steel beneath his words.Beside her, Kirsty was staring at the new arrivals. 'Lush,' she breathed.They watched the two guys reach the police cordon and have a quick conversation with the officer on duty. They were quickly allowed through and hurried towards the yacht, the coat of the older man flowing behind him like a superhero's cape.'I wonder who they are,' said Sophie.'Dunno,' Kirsty replied dreamily, 'but they can enter my restricted zone any day.''OK, boys and girls,' Jack said heartily, 'what have you got for us?'Ianto saw Detective Sergeant Swanson raise her eyebrows. She was a tall, slim, beautiful black woman in an immaculately tailored grey suit. The beads in her braided hair clicked gently together whenever she moved her head. She and Torchwood and she and Jack in particular had a love/hate relationship, which Jack seemed to revel in. In fact, Jack had once remarked that you could cook eggs on the heat of the s.e.xual tension between him and the statuesque policewoman. Ianto hadn't been sure whether Jack was joking, and therefore couldn't now work out whether he ought to be jealous or not.'Well, well, look what the cat's dragged in,' Swanson said.She was standing with a colleague, a shorter, pudgy man in a wrinkled blue suit, who sn.i.g.g.e.red.'Which must make you you the cat,' Jack said, and raised his eyebrows. 'You got the costume to go with that?' the cat,' Jack said, and raised his eyebrows. 'You got the costume to go with that?'Swanson looked outraged. 'You don't honestly think I I called you, do you, Jack? Why the h.e.l.l would called you, do you, Jack? Why the h.e.l.l would I I want Torchwood stomping all over want Torchwood stomping all over my my investigation?' investigation?''Maybe you just can't resist my baby blue eyes,' Jack said.'Oh, please please,' Swanson replied.'It was a Detective Inspector Myers who called us,' Ianto said a little stiffly.Swanson pulled a face. 'That figures.''He said there were some unusual aspects to the case. In fact, his actual words were, "This one's weirder than a three-headed monkey."'Jack looked unimpressed. 'I dated a three-headed monkey once. What a summer that that was!' was!''Is this just one big joke to you, Jack?' Swanson said. 'Because it isn't to me. Five boys have died here tonight.'The smile slipped from Jack's face. All at once he was sombre, business-like. 'What happened?''Why don't you see for yourselves?' Swanson said. There was a challenge in her voice as she added, 'I hope you've got strong stomachs.'Jack flashed her a look, and he and Ianto hurried along the jetty towards the illuminated yacht. A team of forensics examiners, ghostly in their white all-in-ones, were moving around the deck, photographing evidence and making notes. Even from some distance away, Ianto saw that the gleaming fibregla.s.s structure of the central cabin area was splashed liberally with blood. As he and Jack approached the boat, one of the officers spotted them and hurried over.'Can I help you?''Captain Jack Harkness Torchwood,' Jack said importantly.'Ianto Jones,' said Ianto.'Oh, so you're you're the famous Torchwood, are you?' said the officer, trying to look blase. 'I'm Guy Baker, SOCO on this investigation. I take it you know the rules?' the famous Torchwood, are you?' said the officer, trying to look blase. 'I'm Guy Baker, SOCO on this investigation. I take it you know the rules?''Rules are for-' Jack began, but Ianto jumped in.'Don't touch anything. Don't contaminate the crime scene,' he recited.'That's it.' Baker wafted a hand, as though inviting them aboard. 'Aside from that, have fun.'Jack and Ianto stepped across the divide between jetty and deck, Ianto trying to keep his expression neutral as he looked around. There were pools and splashes of blood all over the deck, not to mention a copious amount of human remains. Most of the remains were unidentifiable nothing but shreds and gobbets of mangled flesh and bone but here and there were body parts that were patently, stomach-churningly human. Ianto saw a hand with two fingers missing, but part of the arm still attached; a section of gnawed ribcage; a long bone that might have been a femur; a head whose face was mercifully obscured by blood-matted hair.Grim-faced, Jack asked Baker, 'So what are we looking at here? Animal attack?'Baker shook his head. 'No. Believe it or not, the killers were human.'Jack and Ianto glanced at each other. 'How many?' asked Jack.'So far we've identified bite marks from thirteen different sets of teeth.''Unlucky for some,' Ianto murmured.'And the victims were killed how?' Jack asked.Baker spread his hands, as if he couldn't quite believe his own findings. 'As far as we can tell, they were simply. . . torn apart. Evidence suggests that the attackers used their bare hands to murder their victims and then cannibalised the bodies. Devoured them, in fact.'Ianto placed a hand over his mouth and said nothing. He was thinking of cannibals up in the Brecon Beacons, not long after Gwen had joined Torchwood. The memory was not a happy one.Jack was equally silent for a moment, and then he said, 'Detective Swanson said there were five victims?'Baker nodded. 'We think they were all Cardiff University students. We found a couple of NUS cards among the debris.''What about the perpetrators?' Ianto asked.'No sign. We think they must have pulled up in a boat alongside the yacht.''Won't there be a record of them in that case?' said Jack.'We're looking into that now.''OK. Well, keep up the good work, Guy and keep us informed. And now, if you don't mind, we'd like a little look round on our own.'Baker did not exactly huff, but it was clear he did not appreciate being dismissed by Jack. As soon as he had moved away, Ianto took his PDA out of his pocket and turned it on.'Anything?' Jack asked.Ianto consulted the results scrolling across the display reader. 'There's residual Rift energy,' he said, 'but the percentage is almost low enough to be considered negligible.'Jack looked thoughtful. 'So what do you think? That human beings did this?''Don't see why not. They were probably high on drugs. A cult, maybe.'Jack gave him a look.'What?' said Ianto, as if he was being accused of something.'You know what I'm thinking, don't you?' Jack said.Ianto shook his head. 'No, Jack. It's ridiculous. You know know it's ridiculous.' it's ridiculous.'Almost smugly Jack said, 'On our way here we field a call from Gwen, who says that she and Rhys have been attacked by a walking corpse. And now here we are surrounded by evidence of an attack in which the perpetrators used their bare hands bare hands as murder weapons and then cannibalised their victims. What does that suggest to as murder weapons and then cannibalised their victims. What does that suggest to you you, Ianto?'Unhappily Ianto shook his head. 'It's crazy, Jack. It's horror-movie hok.u.m. You know it is.''And you you know what we're up against here, don't you?' know what we're up against here, don't you?''No, I don't. Don't say it, Jack. Don't use the-''Zombies!' Jack exclaimed.'- zed word,' Ianto concluded miserably.

FOUR

PC Andy Davidson took a left into Gabalfa Road. There was no need to scan the house numbers to pinpoint the source of the disturbance. An ambulance had already arrived, and was parked at the kerb, hazards flashing. Some people had spilled out of the house and were standing in the overgrown front garden, or on the pavement. Most looked drunk and confused, though one or two were arguing amongst themselves, gesticulating angrily at the house and each other.'You all right?' Andy asked, glancing at Dawn Stratton, his new partner.Dawn rolled her pale green eyes. 'I've already told you, Andy, you don't have to mollycoddle me.''Only asking,' Andy said, and switched off the engine. 'It's for my benefit as much as yours.''I'm fine,' she said firmly, and opened the door.The call had come in five minutes earlier a disturbance at a party in a student-occupied house. According to the caller, a gatecrasher had attacked and wounded a female partygoer.Andy and Dawn strode across to the ambulance, Andy fending off comments from a couple of the more abrasive drunks. The back doors of the vehicle were standing open and a yellow-jacketed paramedic was inside, tending to a young girl.'Hi,' Andy said, leaning in. He winced at the sight of the wound on the girl's arm. 'That looks nasty. Bitten, were you?'The girl nodded. She was slightly built, pale and trembling with shock. The crescent of teeth-marks on her forearm was deep and still leaking blood.'Who did this to you?' Andy asked gently.The girl licked her lips. In a small voice she said, 'Dunno. Just some guy. He was like an animal. Think he was high on something.''And where's this guy now?' asked Dawn, standing at Andy's shoulder.'In the cellar. Some of the other guys locked him in. He was a nutter. Going for everybody.''Don't worry, love, we'll sort him out,' Andy said. 'Any other injuries?' he asked the paramedic.'Just minor stuff,' the paramedic replied. 'Cuts and scratches mainly. My colleague's inside, dealing with those.'Andy thanked him, and then he and Dawn walked up the path and through the open door of the terraced house. The second paramedic was at the bottom of the stairs, crouched beside a girl who was perched on the third step, holding her blonde hair away from a pair of thin scratches on the side of her neck. The two police officers acknowledged the paramedic with a nod and stepped into a crowded room on their left. It was a typical student place shabby decor; threadbare furniture; posters on the walls; cans, bottles and overflowing ashtrays cluttering every surface. The dimly lit room stank of cigarette smoke, and was so hot that the windows streamed with condensation. Music was blasting out of a sound system in the corner. Andy recognised it he had the CD at home. Kings of Leon. Only By The Night Only By The Night.'Can you turn that down a bit, please?' he asked a girl with dyed red hair and a nose stud, who was clutching a bottle of cider. The girl complied without a murmur, and Andy pointed at an open door in the far corner, which afforded enough of a glimpse of the room beyond to suggest that it led to a brightly lit kitchen. 'Cellar through here, is it?'Heads nodded dutifully. As Andy and Dawn crossed to the door, the crowd parted before them.The kitchen was narrow, and looked out on to a bricked-in backyard. Beside the greasy oven, cans and bottles bobbed in a plastic bath full of iced water. There were more bottles stacked on the work surfaces, and two black plastic dustbins full of empties stood by the back door. There were six guys in the kitchen, looking tense. One was swigging red wine out of a bottle; the rest were clutching cans of beer. Two were smoking roll-ups. A thin haze of blue-grey smoke hovered near the ceiling.'h.e.l.lo, fellers,' Andy said amiably. 'I gather you've got a bloke locked in your cellar?'As if on cue, there was an irregular tattoo of thumps on the blue-painted door tucked away in an alcove at the back of the room. Accompanying the thumps was a low moan.'Is he all right in there?' Dawn asked.'He's a mentalist,' one of the guys muttered.'Stinks an' all,' added another.Andy crossed to the door and rested his forehead against the wood. 'h.e.l.lo in there,' he said. 'This is the police. We're here to investigate an alleged a.s.sault. Could you tell me your name, please?'There was a renewed barrage of thumps and moans from the other side of the door. Andy looked briefly at Dawn and raised his eyebrows, before trying again.'I think you need to calm down, sir. Getting aggressive won't do anyone any good, least of all yourself. Now, can you please tell me your name?'This time the thumps were accompanied by the sound of violent scratching. The moans became a series of guttural snarls.Andy sighed and stepped back from the door. 'What can you tell me about this bloke?' he asked.The six students all looked at each other. The one with the wine bottle said, 'He just burst in. He was growling and, like, slashing at people. Then he grabbed Hayley's arm and bit it. She screamed like h.e.l.l.'The tallest and broadest of the boys said, 'Me and Martin jumped on him and got him on the floor. But he was totally crazed. It took six of us to get him in there.''You six?' asked Dawn.They all nodded.'So what's he like, this guy?' asked Andy. 'Describe him to me.''He looks rough,' said the gangly, bearded youth who had been identified as Martin. 'He's about. . . I dunno, thirty maybe. Not thin, but he looks like a junkie. White skin and weird eyes. And like Jace said, he stinks like he's been sleeping in a rubbish dump. His clothes are disgusting.' He pulled a face. 'We all had to wash our hands after touching him.'Andy nodded. 'OK, well we'll take it from here. If you could clear the kitchen and close the door.'The boys trooped out, evidently grateful to relinquish responsibility for the gatecrasher.'You ready for this?' Andy said.Dawn smiled thinly. 'Cuffs at the ready.'Andy approached the door again. Taking a deep breath, he said, 'I'm going to open this door now, sir. I want you to come out quietly and keep your hands where we can see them. If you show any aggression towards either myself or my partner, we'll be forced to arrest you. Do you understand me?'The only responses were further thumps and snarls.Andy pulled a face at Dawn, who smiled back nervously, and then he reached out and slowly slid free the bolts at the top and bottom of the door. Equally slowly he twisted the key in the lock. Then he pulled the door open and stepped smartly back.Without preamble the man lunged at him. Andy saw only a glazed stare and an oddly slack expression on a face so horribly pale it was almost blue, before hands were clawing at his face.He reached up and grabbed the man's forearms. Stepping back, he used the man's forward momentum to twist him round and bear him to the ground.The man landed on his stomach, hitting the floor with a thump as Andy twisted his arms behind his back. It should have been a standard arrest, but as Dawn was kneeling to slap handcuffs on the man's wrists, he suddenly surprised Andy by twisting from his grasp like an eel. Seemingly unaffected by having just had all the breath knocked out of him, he flipped around, reached out and grabbed Dawn's hand. She was so shocked that she dropped the handcuffs, which hit the linoleum floor with a metallic clatter. Before either she or Andy could respond, the man half sat up, dipped his head forward and sank his teeth into Dawn's hand.She yelped in pain and instinctively punched the man in the side of the head with her other hand. It had no effect whatsoever. The man was like a dog, his teeth locked into Dawn's flesh, snarling as blood bubbled out of the wound. Andy scrambled across the floor, getting behind the man and wrapping an arm around his neck. He grabbed the man's nose in his other hand and wrenched his head up and back, not caring if he broke the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's neck.It did the trick. The man's jaw unlocked and Dawn wrenched her hand free with a cry of agony. Still the man snarled and writhed in Andy's grasp. He seemed impervious to pain, his lips curled back over bloodstained teeth, his jaw still working to bite any flesh that came within range. The lower half of his face was a mask of Dawn's blood; his white shirt was speckled and streaked with red.Considering how wasted the man seemed, Andy was amazed at his tensile strength. He could only a.s.sume it was drug-fuelled. Certainly he had to use every ounce of his own strength to heave the man onto his front and wrench his arms behind his back. Dawn's hand was bleeding copiously, but she scooted forward to help, grabbing the handcuffs and securing them around the man's wrists.Finally they had him restrained, though even now he bucked and twisted like a fish in a net. Andy stood up, sweating and panting. Dawn stood up too, but almost immediately staggered over to a chair and sat down again.She took deep breaths, looking almost as pale as her attacker. Her injured hand hung between her knees, blood running down it, dripping onto the floor.'We need to get that cleaned up,' Andy said.Voice low and scared, Dawn replied, 'What if he's HIV positive? What if he's. . . infected me?'There was a beat of silence. Then Andy said, 'We'll get the paramedics to check you out. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be all right.'She looked up at him, scowling. 'You don't know know that,' she said. that,' she said.Andy's face twitched into an expression somewhere between compa.s.sion and apology. 'No I don't. Sorry. But try not to worry, OK? Chances are, you'll be fine.'She nodded, took another deep breath, and then stood up shakily. Andy helped her wash her hand at the sink and wrap it in a tea towel. Together they hauled the still-snarling, still-struggling man to his feet and then Andy frogmarched him towards the kitchen door.'There's something really wrong with him,' she said.'Tell me something I don't know,' replied Andy.Dawn shook her head. 'No, I mean, really. Look at him. His skin's all marbled. His eyes are sunken and dead, like there's nothing there, like he's blind or something. I've seen corpses that look healthier than him. And he smells like death too.'It was true. The man smelled like a week-old cadaver. Even when Andy had been grappling with him, he'd been uncomfortably aware of how the man's skin felt beneath his hands damp and somehow greasy.'Let's just get him down to the station,' he said. 'The doc can look at him there. Clear a way through, will you, Dawn? We don't want him biting anyone else.'She nodded and opened the door into the crowded front room. 'Please