Ramsey Campbell - The Claw

She stared at it and struggled to reach for it, to be able to crawl away and hide. The bag looked impossibly real, the only real thing in the world, and she was staring at it out of the small dark grubby place. She couldn't just open it – the catch would make too much noise; she had to slide it off the arm of the chair and creep away with it, which meant first edging the strap from under mummy's nails. She couldn't do it, the thought of trying made her sob inside herself. But she had to move, for her legs were aching terribly; if she had to squat much longer, they'd hurt so much that she would stagger to her feet and straight into mummy's arms. The thought sent a shudder through her that almost overbalanced her, and she reached out a trembling hand to lift the strap of the bag. Her teeth were chattering, she couldn't keep them still, even by clenching them until they ached. Perhaps that was why, as Anna grasped the strap and began to slide it gently but shakily along the arm of the chair, mummy opened her eyes.

Mummy's eyes opened, and Anna tried to scream. If she managed to make a sound, she knew she'd scream until everyone in the hotel woke up, until they came to break the door down, to stop mummy before it was too late. But she couldn't scream; she couldn't move at all, not even to relieve the agony in her legs, which in any case she was too terrified to feel. As mummy realized what Anna had been doing, her eyes were growing brighter every second, more and more like a horrible stranger's. Once Anna had seen a rabbit frozen by the headlights of the car; now she knew how it had felt in that pitiless murderous glare.

Mummy's lips opened, baring her teeth. She leaned toward Anna. Could Anna scream now, before those nails seized her? If she waited until they did, it might be too late. But mummy was going to speak, and she couldn't scream while mummy was speaking, even if it was a stranger who was pretending to be mummy. Besides, she was too frightened of what mummy was going to say.

'Well then, you little thief,' mummy said. 'I've caught you, haven't I?'

Anna couldn't speak, she could only squat there, her thighs jerking like a broken wind-up doll. She couldn't make a sound, not when mummy's voice was so gentle. It wasn't that she no longer wanted to – it was that mummy's gentleness was so terrifying that it choked off her scream.

At last the horrible delight faded from mummy's eyes and they grew blank, gazing at Anna as if they were looking at nothing. When she spoke, she sounded almost indifferent. 'Get dressed,' she said. 'We're going now.'

Anna was shivering so much that she could hardly struggle into her clothes. She'd had her chance to scream for help, but now the moment was past; it almost seemed there was no reason to scream now, though she knew there was. All mummy had said was that they were going – she hadn't said anything about going home. Something in her eyes had said they were going somewhere else.

In a minute mummy was dressed, and waiting for her. When Anna made for the bathroom, her legs getting in her way, mummy said, 'Stay out of there.' She didn't want the bathroom noises waking anyone in the hotel. She didn't want anyone to know they were leaving. Anna must let someone know. But as mummy unbolted the door to the corridor she gave Anna a look that dared her to make a sound, a look that already knew she could not. Anna was a rabbit again, frozen in the moment before it was all over.

The corridor was deserted and chilly. The fog outside seemed to have dimmed the lights. There was no sound beyond any of the closed doors; everyone was asleep, whatever time of night it was. It felt cold and grey and empty, neither night nor morning. All the way along the corridor and down the stairs, Anna was praying that a door would open, that someone would appear so that she could run to them, plead with them not to let mummy take her away, plead to be taken to Granny Knight instead. But nothing moved except the fire doors they had passed through. She was alone, with mummy at her back and the aching of her bladder, the agony between her legs.

Nobody was at the reception desk. The potted plants looked dusty in the blurred yellowish light; the glass panels of the lobby doors seemed to have turned into fog. Mummy unbolted the doors quickly and quietly. Surely you weren't supposed to open them at night? Shouldn't that set off an alarm? But there was no sound in the hotel except the mousy squeak of the hinges. Nobody came. Anna was still waiting and praying when mummy pushed her out onto the steps and into the fog.

The fog wasn't quite dark, but it seemed to press close to her face, so close that she felt as if her eyes were closed. When mummy shoved her forward onto the gravel path at the bottom of the steps, her footfalls sounded trapped with her. The fog was her small, dark, grubby prison now. Even if she screamed, nobody would hear her through the fog.

It drifted in front of her as mummy hurried her forward, nipping Anna's bruised arm between her fingers, to the edge of the glistening road. As soon as she reached the verge, Anna couldn't restrain herself; she didn't care what mummy did. She squatted so desperately that mummy lost her grip on her. As Anna relieved herself, mummy stared down at her as if she were an animal soiling a carpet, and dragged her to her feet as soon as she'd finished. 'Come on,' she said in a voice that was colder than the fog.

The fog drew back along the road, which glistened like a giant snail's track. Drops of moisture clung like spawn to the spiky grass of the verges. Sometimes the verges heaved up, turned into spiny banks. If she could see all this, it must be morning; they must have left the hotel just before people began waking up, she must have spent all night trying to be stealthy. The thought made her sob hopelessly, until mummy glared at her.

The sun was breaking through now. Occasionally she saw herself and mummy silhouetted on the fog, a huge figure holding a small one, folded up like paper from their waists. Everything that loomed out of the fog and grew clear was uncomfortably intense, close as the photographs in her Viewmaster at home. Mummy and daddy had bought her that for her sixth birthday. She sobbed inside herself.

Mummy was walking faster now, as though by hurrying up she could break through the fog. Or was she trying to run away from something? For a moment, and then again, Anna felt that something was loping after them on all fours, just beyond the fog. It must be the man who hid from her, except that he wasn't a man.

They were passing the graveyard. Gravestones congealed out of the fog. The church drifted by, a dark vague meaningless bulk, and then there was nothing to be seen but dripping grass and slippery road. Far away in the village to her left she heard the intermittent hum of a milk-van, the clink of bottles. Mummy was almost running now, pinching Anna's bruised arm to make her keep up. But where was she running to? Not home, for suddenly they were passing their gate, and mummy wasn't turning in there.

They must be going to Jane's. Anna didn't like that idea very much, not when baby Georgie had died there. But there might be someone at Jane's. Now she thought about it, she felt there would be. Before she could try to think who, she was jerked to a halt; pain flared along her arm. Mummy was staring at their house.

At first Anna couldn't even see it. As the fog curled and uncurled, she squinted until she felt dizzy. Then suddenly the fog thinned enough for her to see the front of the house, and she realized what mummy had seen. There was a light on inside.

Was it daddy? She couldn't think who else it might be. If daddy had come home, she wasn't sure how she felt about it; she didn't know if she wanted to go to him, not when she remembered how she'd last seen him, changed like mummy. But she had no choice. Mummy jerked the gate open and hurried her along the path.