relaxed his stance. “I thought I saw something move. Must have been my imagination.”
I lowered the pistol and took a shaky breath. Bobby and I had loved to play Cowboys and Indians when we were younger. Creeping up on each other had been fun back then. This wasn’t fun at
all. One wrong move, one careless moment, and Joshua and I would end up dead. This wasn’t a game. I followed Joshua towards the smaller warehouse.
Silence. Shouldn’t there be noises if Weepers and their prey were in there? Screams, or maybe roars?
We reached the entrance to the warehouse, a heavy steel door. The metal sheeting of the building was completely covered in dirt and soot. My gaze lingered on the places where there were claw
marks. Huge claw marks. Maybe it was just an animal. Right . I wished.
Joshua gave the door a small kick with the tip of his sneaker. It swung open with an ear-splitting creak. If anyone – or anything – was in there, they knew about us now. With the
bottom of my T-shirt, I wiped the sweat from my forehead. I was sweating too much. Joshua didn’t seem to be as bothered by the heat. 1,141 days in the air-conditioned bunker had really taken
their toll. I already felt a hair’s breadth away from heatstroke.
We entered the warehouse – one cautious step after the other. The heavy smell of burned rubber clogged my nose. It was very dark in the building. The thick layer of soot covering the
windows high up in the walls blocked out most of the light. Why couldn’t the bombs have smashed them in? Shelves with buckets and piles of tyres obstructed our view even further, but I was
pretty sure we were alone. Or maybe I just hoped we were. Wishful thinking wouldn’t keep us safe.
Joshua waved me closer when I fell behind, and I hurried towards him. Our arms brushed as we scanned the vast hall.
“We should check the back,” he whispered.
We crept further into the room. An acidly sweet smell filled my nose. A scent I’d encountered once before. I froze. It smelled like the bodies in front of our neighbours’ house.
Please don’t let it be Dad.
18 hours and 37 minutes since he’d gone missing.
67,020 seconds in the claws of Weepers.
A bang resounded through the warehouse and our surroundings were plunged into deeper darkness. I let out a cry. There was barely enough light to see Joshua, who stood right beside me.
We weren’t alone. Something had closed the door. My heart felt like it would burst out of my chest. The pounding of my pulse seemed to fill the silence and my breath came in short gasps.
Was this how Mom felt during one of her asthma attacks?
I felt for Joshua’s arm. He didn’t move, but his body was shaking. I wasn’t the only one who was scared. Somehow, that wasn’t reassuring.
Something was lurking in the darkness, stalking us. Ready to attack.
I aimed the pistol straight ahead and resisted the urge to sneak a peek over my shoulder. I wouldn’t be able to see much anyway.
Joshua moved next to me, but I didn’t let go of his arm.
Gunshots rang out. I tried to cover my ears, releasing Joshua’s arm in the process.
The windows burst into pieces and sunlight streamed into the hall. I scrunched up my eyes against the brightness.
A scream tore itself from my throat. Raw and scared.
I shot.
Once. Twice. Three times.
There were at least three Weepers in the warehouse with us. Three that I’d seen. If they lived in the dark, their eyes were probably better than ours. Who knew how many more were hiding in
the shadows of the tyres or crouching behind one of the piles? But however many there were, they were watching us.
Joshua shot again and screamed something I didn’t catch. My ears were ringing from the gunshots. Tears and sweat burned in my eyes. I couldn’t see Joshua anywhere. He had disappeared
into the shadows.
This is the end. The thought kept repeating itself in my mind like a never-ending mantra.
The end.
From the corner of my eye I saw movement and whirled
I lowered the pistol and took a shaky breath. Bobby and I had loved to play Cowboys and Indians when we were younger. Creeping up on each other had been fun back then. This wasn’t fun at
all. One wrong move, one careless moment, and Joshua and I would end up dead. This wasn’t a game. I followed Joshua towards the smaller warehouse.
Silence. Shouldn’t there be noises if Weepers and their prey were in there? Screams, or maybe roars?
We reached the entrance to the warehouse, a heavy steel door. The metal sheeting of the building was completely covered in dirt and soot. My gaze lingered on the places where there were claw
marks. Huge claw marks. Maybe it was just an animal. Right . I wished.
Joshua gave the door a small kick with the tip of his sneaker. It swung open with an ear-splitting creak. If anyone – or anything – was in there, they knew about us now. With the
bottom of my T-shirt, I wiped the sweat from my forehead. I was sweating too much. Joshua didn’t seem to be as bothered by the heat. 1,141 days in the air-conditioned bunker had really taken
their toll. I already felt a hair’s breadth away from heatstroke.
We entered the warehouse – one cautious step after the other. The heavy smell of burned rubber clogged my nose. It was very dark in the building. The thick layer of soot covering the
windows high up in the walls blocked out most of the light. Why couldn’t the bombs have smashed them in? Shelves with buckets and piles of tyres obstructed our view even further, but I was
pretty sure we were alone. Or maybe I just hoped we were. Wishful thinking wouldn’t keep us safe.
Joshua waved me closer when I fell behind, and I hurried towards him. Our arms brushed as we scanned the vast hall.
“We should check the back,” he whispered.
We crept further into the room. An acidly sweet smell filled my nose. A scent I’d encountered once before. I froze. It smelled like the bodies in front of our neighbours’ house.
Please don’t let it be Dad.
18 hours and 37 minutes since he’d gone missing.
67,020 seconds in the claws of Weepers.
A bang resounded through the warehouse and our surroundings were plunged into deeper darkness. I let out a cry. There was barely enough light to see Joshua, who stood right beside me.
We weren’t alone. Something had closed the door. My heart felt like it would burst out of my chest. The pounding of my pulse seemed to fill the silence and my breath came in short gasps.
Was this how Mom felt during one of her asthma attacks?
I felt for Joshua’s arm. He didn’t move, but his body was shaking. I wasn’t the only one who was scared. Somehow, that wasn’t reassuring.
Something was lurking in the darkness, stalking us. Ready to attack.
I aimed the pistol straight ahead and resisted the urge to sneak a peek over my shoulder. I wouldn’t be able to see much anyway.
Joshua moved next to me, but I didn’t let go of his arm.
Gunshots rang out. I tried to cover my ears, releasing Joshua’s arm in the process.
The windows burst into pieces and sunlight streamed into the hall. I scrunched up my eyes against the brightness.
A scream tore itself from my throat. Raw and scared.
I shot.
Once. Twice. Three times.
There were at least three Weepers in the warehouse with us. Three that I’d seen. If they lived in the dark, their eyes were probably better than ours. Who knew how many more were hiding in
the shadows of the tyres or crouching behind one of the piles? But however many there were, they were watching us.
Joshua shot again and screamed something I didn’t catch. My ears were ringing from the gunshots. Tears and sweat burned in my eyes. I couldn’t see Joshua anywhere. He had disappeared
into the shadows.
This is the end. The thought kept repeating itself in my mind like a never-ending mantra.
The end.
From the corner of my eye I saw movement and whirled
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