Shaun Jeffrey: Dead Man's Eye

Two figures walked towards Nina from the corner of the block. Unable to see clearly, Joanna closed her Fuchs’ eye to improve her vision, and opened her mouth in shock when she recognised Lincoln and the nurse from the hospital. The blackness surrounded both figures, as though someone had drawn around them with a black marker pen.

Next minute, she saw the nurse approach Nina, talking as she went.

Panicked, Joanna screamed and banged on the window. The glass shook in the frame and Nina turned and looked back. She didn’t know what was going on, or what the threat was, but before Joanna could shout a warning, the nurse grabbed Nina around the throat.

Joanna’s eyes almost popped out of her head, and she froze. Nina kicked and bucked, but the nurse maintained her hold, then with supernatural strength, she twisted Nina’s head until her neck snapped.

Lincoln approached and took hold of the limp body with his single arm. Joanna saw his lips moving and she mouthed a silent ‘no’ and shook her head in terror as Nina jerked upright, her body encircled by the same evil black corona that surrounded Lincoln and the nurse.

Lincoln released Nina and she stood erect.

Shocked, Joanna fell back from the window, watched as the trio turned to stare up at her. Then without a word between them, they headed towards the apartment block.

Joanna knew she had to run.

The nurse had just killed Nina. Snapped her neck like a twig. Then whatever Lincoln put inside Nina, it brought her back to life.

As her Fuchs’ eye made her sight blurrier, Joanna kept it closed. She ran across the room, tore open the door and fled along the short corridor.

She knocked at the first door she came to, that of her neighbour, Charlie Cook. When no one answered, she shouted his name and banged her fist against the wood, but when no one replied, she didn’t wait around.

As she ran, her footfalls echoed after her, making it sound as though someone gave chase. With her pursuers coming through the front door, she turned right and headed towards the back door, which she only used when taking rubbish out to the communal wheelie bin.

She snapped the deadbolt across, pulled the door open and ran outside. A chill breeze blew around the confined space, chasing scraps of paper. Apartment blocks surrounded the area, the windows of which sat in darkness; Joanna headed towards the gate leading to the alley.

Her heart thundered in her chest and she felt sick with fear. Screaming would draw attention to her, but it would also alert Lincoln and the others to her whereabouts so she stayed quiet.

She didn’t understand any of this. Jesus. What the fuck was going on? God, Nina, what have they done to you?

Keeping one eye closed and the other open, she scurried along the alley, heading towards the rectangle of light at the end. As soon as she evaded her pursuers, she was going to the police station. Whatever the hell was going on, they could deal with it.

Running made her eye hurt, but she couldn’t stop. No amount of pain would make her stop. Unused to physical exertion, her calves and thighs throbbed and she felt a fire in her lungs that she tried to ignore, her only aim to get away.

At the end of the alley, she came out into the backstreet that ran between buildings, an area littered with discarded furniture that made it appear houses had been turned inside out. An old settee sat against the wall, the foam interior protruding from slashed cushions. Next to this, a stained mattress leaned against the wall. Further along, a broken stool and a kitchen unit lay smashed in the gutter. Old newspapers had turned into mulch on the pavement, part of the contents from torn rubbish bags that lay scattered like gutted visceral organs.

Joanna slowed her pace in case she slipped on the jetsam of humanity. She hated the back of the apartment blocks. It was where gangs of youths gathered at night, the druggies and dispossessed with nowhere else to go. The broken bottles, squashed beer cans and discarded needles bore testament to their presence, but the one time she wanted to see someone loitering around, the alley appeared empty.

Up ahead she saw a mangy dog sniffing the contents of a black bin bag. At the sound of her approach, the dog stopped and stared at her. It looked like a cross breed, part Alsatian, part Doberman, part Irish Wolfhound, something put together by a demented scientist intent on creating a hybrid monster.

She heard a soft growl emanate from the back of the dog’s throat. Hackles up, its teeth materialised and it readjusted its position, ready to pounce.

I don’t need this shit, Joanna thought.

She stopped, crouched down and snatched up a wooden leg from the broken stool, the jagged end of which resembled a stake.

Holding the impromptu weapon made her feel a little more secure. If the dog attacked, at least she could put up a good fight.

She edged forwards, holding the piece of wood like a sword. “Good doggy. Now piss off.”

She swung the chair leg, trying to shoo the dog away, but the canine, which stood as tall as her waist, crouched down, its teeth the tips of icebergs. Drool dripped from its maw as though it salivated at the thought of taking a chunk out of her leg.

Then it took a cautious step forwards, and then another as though stalking her, its eyes dark pits.

As the dog drew closer, she noticed its fur was dirty and a crisscross of battle scars marred its face, adding to the effect of it being like Frankenstein’s monster.

Joanna swung the chair leg, which swished as it swept through the air, but the dog seemed unimpressed.

“Get away,” she said, unable to stop the tremor in her voice.

The dog barked once, a deep, guttural sound that echoed between the buildings.

Joanna jumped at the sound. She’d never liked dogs, always too afraid their predatory, hunting roots would overpower any domesticity that mankind had instilled. The dog before her was living proof of how easily they could revert to what nature intended them to be. Man had turned them into wolves in sheep’s clothing.

Mouth dry and legs shaking, she backed away.

The dog followed. Powerful, sinewy body approaching one slow, measured step at a time.

Joanna swung the chair leg again, trying to ward the beast off, and the dog stopped advancing. It stood up straight, tail disappearing between its legs and ears pressed flat to its skull. By the position of its head, she could tell the dog was no longer looking at her, but beyond her. The low growl turned into a whimper and before she knew it, the beast turned tail and ran.

Joanna spun around and saw Nina approaching along the alley. The dark corona surrounded her body, obviously something to do with what Lincoln had done. Even from a distance, Joanna sensed the malice radiating from her old friend and a shudder ran through her body.

“Nina,” she said. “Is that you?”

Her friend grinned, but the expression lacked any kind of warmth. Instead, it looked savage, inhuman.

Goosebumps erupted along Joanna’s arms. She took a step back, almost stumbled. “What have they done to you?” she asked.

“They’ve released me,” Nina replied, although it no longer sounded like Nina, the timbre of her voice deeper and more menacing.

“I don’t understand.”

“And you never will.” With that, she ran towards Joanna. “She’s here,” she shouted.

Joanna turned and fled. Although her legs and calves still ached, fear gave her the strength to continue. She dodged the discarded furniture and overturned wheelie bins; each excessive movement made her eyeball feel about to explode, but she couldn’t stop. She had to get away.

At her rear, she heard Nina in pursuit, the sound of her footfalls growing closer, increasing the panic coursing through Joanna’s body.