Adrian Smith - The Rule of Three

She had just finished screwing the door shut when she heard the shriek. It was so loud it wailed around in her brain. Frantic, she scanned the kitchen, looking for somewhere to hide. She glanced at the back door, which was ajar. Could she make it to the basement?

There was another shriek. This time it was close, perhaps even down the side of the house. Gritting her teeth, she ducked into the only hiding spot available: the pantry. The handle of her katana knocked the spice rack over, spilling the contents all over the floor. She swore quietly and pulled the door closed behind her. The pungent aromas from the spices hung in the air around her, so Dee covered her mouth with her T-shirt and held her breath.

The clicking of a creature’s claws across the kitchen tiles and the popping of its joints made her skin crawl. She gagged when the rotting fruit smell that seemed to hang around them reached her nostrils through the mix of spices. She squeezed her eyes shut and held the door closed with one hand. Sweat began to pool in the small of her back and behind her ears, saliva in her mouth.

All it would take for the creature to discover her was one peek in at where she was hiding, one whiff of her scent.

Crouched in the pantry, she listened to the beast. It scrambled around, knocking God-knew-what to the floor. It would stop in its destruction every few seconds to sniff at the air. Dee could hear each sniff, because it made the creature sound like an obese asthmatic trying to breathe. She gulped in her own breath, as quietly as she could, when the creature scratched at the door. She heard it sniff again, and it sneezed. Powerful sneezes, one after the other. It seemed to scramble away from the door, its clawed feet scraping on the smooth tiles. There was a shriek, and the creature crashed out of the kitchen.

Dee waited until she couldn’t hear it anymore. She counted to ten, slowly. She peeked out of the pantry. Pots, pans, cups and plates lay smashed all over the floor. The spices she’d spilled had claw marks in them.

Something clicked. The creatures hunted mainly by scent. Twice now she had escaped their detection because of overpowering smells, once in the compost and now again with these spices. To have any chance of surviving in the basement, she would need to disguise her presence.

Dee dashed for the basement and bolted the door shut. Smiling, she took the seaweed plant-food off the shelf and poured its contents over the door and threshold.

That would have to do for now.

Hurry, Jack! Come home.

The liquidambar was one of the first deciduous trees to begin changing colour in autumn, and one of Jack’s favourite trees. Its leaves would first turn a deep purple before turning red and falling to the ground. Jack jogged ahead through the leaf litter that covered the grass, releasing a peaty scent into the air. He held the gun in front of him, ready. He remembered reading about where to keep your finger so as not to accidentally fire the gun; on the trigger guard, not the trigger itself. He was tempted to flick the safety on, but with Duke and his goons in the vicinity and the fact that mid-afternoon was fast approaching, he was on edge.

“Where are we going, Jack?” Emma gasped beside him.

“We need a vehicle. Best place is a dealership,” Jack said. He glanced behind to check on Sarah. She was lagging behind, carrying George. Emma followed his gaze and dropped back.

“Here, let me take him for a bit,” Emma said, handing Sarah the bachi hoe and lifting the red-haired boy into her arms. She spent a few seconds adjusting his weight.

“Thanks,” Sarah panted.

It was a long run back into the centre of Cambridge. Jack was aiming for a Toyota dealership he knew of next to a strip mall of fast food outlets. As they ran, Jack caught his reflection in the shop windows, hardly recognising himself, he was so dishevelled. He must’ve smelt just as bad. It was days since he’d showered, and the swims in the river wouldn’t have helped matters. Jack blinked as he caught a movement in the glass. It flicked through his vision so fast he wasn’t sure what he had seen.

Only instinct saved him. He was close enough to Emma and Sarah to pull them down behind a vehicle just as the creature bounded out of the house. It howled and pivoted, searching for the prey it had seen. Jack caressed the rifle and crawled in front of the two women and George. He could just see the top of its deformed head. The flesh on the skull had blackened and there was no hair at all. It leapt onto a brick fence and sniffed at the air. Its yellow eyes swivelled around and locked onto Jack. For a moment Jack thought the beast was going to bound off. Moving slowly, he brought the rifle up and squinted through the scope.

There was a blur of motion and the creature was sailing through the air. Jack sucked in a breath and pulled on the trigger. The rifle bucked into his shoulder as three shots ripped out, going wide. Jack pulled the trigger again as the creature landed on the concrete and swiped a claw at him, knocking the rifle from his grasp.

George cried out and Emma, gripping the bachi hoe in both hands, stepped in front of Sarah and George. The creature bowled into Jack, its mouth curled back to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth. Jack fell back with a thump and grabbed the creature’s arms, desperate to keep it from tearing into his flesh. He kicked out at the beast but his efforts had no effect. He spotted the rifle only a couple of metres away.

“Emma! The gun.”

The beast gnashed it sucker mouth together and globs of drool dripped onto Jack’s face. He glanced at Sarah and George hiding under the car. He glanced at the trees lining the streets. Streets that would normally be filled with life, with people going about their daily lives. They all lay empty now. Anyone left alive was either hiding or had been evacuated. He grunted, trying to push the monster off him, and stared into its soulless eyes. The creature thrashed about with new fervour, dragging its clawed hands down Jack’s arms. Jack was watching its mouth when it suddenly went rigid and blackish blood began to drip from its mouth.

Jack frowned, puzzled. He hadn’t heard any gunshots or sensed any movement. Emma kicked the creature off him and held out a hand. He clasped it and she pulled him to his feet. He glanced down at the beast and saw the bachi hoe embedded in its back.

“Thanks.” Jack scooped up the fallen rifle. This time he placed the strap over his shoulder.

Howls echoed around the houses.

“We need to move,” he said. “To the river, and a boat.”

“What about a car?” Emma said.

“Too late. We’ll be safer out on the water.”

He and Emma helped Sarah and George out from underneath the car. Sarah brushed dirt out of George’s hair.

“There’s a jet boat company down by the highway bridge.”

Jack nodded and pivoted, trying to orientate himself.

They headed in the general direction of the river, jogging from car to car and ducking into gardens when they could. Anything to keep out of sight. The creatures’ howls and shrieks filled the town like a hundred wolves had suddenly invaded and were hunting for food. Sarah led them on a zig-zag route through the town centre, ducking down alleys and behind buildings. Finally Jack glimpsed the river and spotted the bright red building Sarah had mentioned. Painted on the roof were the words “Cambridge Jet Adventures”. Perfect if you were an adrenaline junkie and didn’t mind nature whizzing by.

Jack gripped his rifle tighter and waited until the others had moved past him. The shrieks of the beasts were getting ever closer. During the course of their flight, Jack could have sworn he kept seeing them, but whenever he searched for them, they were absent. He had put it down to being exhausted and paranoid.