The freak storm had appeared practically overnight. With no warning, the authorities were completely blindsided. Roads were flooded, public transport shut down, schools and offices were left empty as the entire county hunkered down in the face of what the news had dubbed a once–in–a–century weather event.
As for me? I was enjoying an unexpected but welcome day off. Not only was school closed, my parents’ flight back from Paris had been cancelled due to the storm. That meant I had the house to myself. Or I would have, had it not been for my brother.
“QUAGGAS. Triple letter on the Q––thirty points, U, A and S give me a point each, two for G, triple one of the Gs, then hooking in AMORAL for eight, plus fifty for the bingo… 99 points!” Lucien declared.
“I surrender,” I said, raising my hands. “You win.”
“Heh. All that bark, but no bite.”
I punched him in the shoulder. “Hey. Don’t forget who won Monopoly.”
“Monopoly is, like, entirely luck based. Plus, I won chess and Risk and—needn’t I remind you—Scrabble.”
We had originally planned on marathoning some bad movies, but the power cut out less than thirty minutes into Twilight, and we were left to scramble for other ways to entertain ourselves. Unfortunately for me, Lucien was the kind of person who excelled at everything he tried his hand at, be it academics, athletics or—apparently—board games. We were fraternal twins and, even though I’d been born a couple of minutes earlier, I felt perpetually like the younger sibling.
“Risk and Scrabble are kinda luck based as well,” I said.
“Okay, but there’s at least more skill involved than Monopoly.”
Lucien’s hand dipped into the bag of crisps between us. It rummaged around for a second, before coming back up, empty.
“Huh? Was that the last packet?”
“Yeah. We’re out of snacks. I’ll go grab some from the corner shop,” I said, standing up.
He shot a nervous glance out of the window. The gale outside was still going strong, with no signs of abating.
“You sure? Looks pretty bad out there. It’s probably closed anyway.”
“It’s a three minute walk, I’ll be fine. Plus, it would be such a shame to have the ‘storm of the century’ happen, then not get to experience it.” I grinned.
“Well, just be careful, okay? Mum would kill me if anything happened.”
With that, I threw on a raincoat and headed out into the tempest.
Though it was just past noon, the clouds above formed an impenetrable phalanx against the sun’s light. Below them lay a world gone mad. Where the air writhed and coiled in umbral knots, where the rain pounded the earth below to mud in its unquenchable fury, and all the while veins of lightning roared their way through the maelstrom, their brief, violent flashes the only thing that pierced through the omnipresent darkness overhead.
Newborn rivers of muddy water gushed down the street alongside me, spiralling gleefully towards gutters and storm drains already clogged with debris, where they pooled in miniature lakes. My trainers were woefully under equipped for the terrain, and I cursed myself for not bringing boots. With every step, the wind fought me. It battered against me, ripping and biting at exposed flesh, making me pay for each and every metre I gained. It whispered and shouted and screamed at me, a wordless chorus of senseless, passionless anger from which there was no escape.
And there was something else, too. There was the occasional shriek or howl that seemed… off. Sounds that deviated from the tempo set by the storm in ways that my conscious mind couldn’t articulate, but which nevertheless set some primal part of me on edge.
It’s just the wind, I told myself. The faint lights of the corner shop were visible just ahead of me, warmly inviting. So I pushed on, raising an arm to shield my face from the lines of cold rain that lashed against it, vicious and stinging.
The store looked empty, despite the ‘open’ sign on the door, but that was hardly unusual. I didn’t imagine they’d be getting many customers in conditions like these, and the cashier was probably just out back somewhere. Stepping inside, I quickly grabbed what I wanted before making my way to the counter. I rang the small, silver bell beside the cash register, and waited.
Nobody came.
I rang the bell a second time. Still nothing. I rang it several times in quick succession. No luck.
Maybe they’re listening to loud music?
“Helloo? Anyone there?” I called out. My only response was the distant howl of the storm outside. I threw a nervous glance around the store. Maybe I had misjudged the situation. Maybe that ‘open’ sign was a mistake. But then why was the door unlocked?
That was when I noticed something I hadn’t before. The corner shop had always had a bit of an odd scent—faintly like packaging, combined with an implacable mustiness which teetered the line between ‘background smell’ and ‘unpleasant’ in the mind. Those scents were still present, along with the fresh, earthy scent of rain. But undercutting everything was now a distinct, sharply metallic odour.
Blood.
I wanted nothing more than to leave. Fuck the snacks, fuck whatever this was. Run back to the house and just wait out the storm with Lucien. This was someone else’s problem. But at the same time, someone could be hurt. Given that they hadn’t responded to my calls, likely seriously so.
There was, of course, the other possibility, but I didn’t want to think about that.
The scent led me towards the back of the store, deeper into the maze of shelves. With each step, my apprehension grew as I became uncomfortably aware that my only exit was getting further and further behind me.
I stopped. There was a sound, faint beneath the humming of refrigerators. I stood still, listening.
“Hello?” I called.
A faint wheezing, somewhere to my left, in another aisle. Cautiously, I approached.
She lay propped up against a freezer, in a growing puddle of crimson. Her arms wrapped around her lower abdomen in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood. Loops of intestine spilled out from the wound, pink and stringy, like worms or mincemeat. As I approached, her sad, grey eyes rose to meet mine. She wheezed something, but all that came out was a thin, pink froth that dribbled down onto her already bloodstained shirt.
“L–look, don’t move, okay, I–I’ll get some help.” I fumbled with my phone, and tried calling 999. No reception. “Uhm, fuck. Okay…” I scanned my surroundings for anything that could help.
The woman made a noise.
“What is it?”
She mumbled something. I leaned closer.
“You—leave—me.” She croaked, voice barely a whisper.
“No no no, I’m not leaving you. T–there’s probably a first aid kit under the counter, right?” Not that I would know how to use it. I also strongly suspected that her condition required way more than first aid, but I pushed such thoughts to the back of my mind.
I turned to go, but with what must have been the last of her strength, she grabbed the sleeve of my arm, pulling me back down.
“It’ll…be back…please…RUN.”
She said the last word with such ferocity that it pierced past the haze of my panic and confusion, and struck at something deep in my soul. And suddenly I understood. Her life was over. She had already accepted that. All she could do now was warn the herd.
She released my arm, and I stumbled back. Questions rushed through my mind, all of them unimportant next to the one imperative that overrode all other thoughts. It pulsed in time with the quickening beat of my heart.
Survive.
The door to the corner shop creaked as someone—or something—entered. The cashier’s eyes widened, then settled into a look of defeated resignation. Sparing one last glance back at her, I moved as quietly as I could to the aisle over, crouching down to lower my profile. I waited.
Footsteps. The clicking of claws on smooth tiles. Through the gaps between the shelves I caught glimpses of it—a large, hunched, inhuman silhouette that slinked deliberately towards its wounded prey. I held my breath.
The cashier didn’t have the strength left to scream. Instead, there were a series of pained whimpers, accompanied by the wet, awful sound of ripping flesh. And then a horrid chewing. It hadn’t even bothered to kill her.
I suppressed the bile that welled up at the back of my throat.
While the thing was occupied, I began carefully making my way towards the front of the store. Each step was methodically gentle, as I fought my opposing impulses. One told me to just run for it, make a mad dash for the door and get as far away as possible. It would be an attractive option, if only I were any good at running. The second told me to stay still, to lie silent and unmoving until the danger had passed. That was all well and good, up until that thing started looking around for its next meal—I wasn’t exactly in a stellar hiding place.
Slow and steady, I told myself.
The door was in view now. Just over half a dozen metres stood between me and the outside. But now came the most dangerous part of my glacial journey. There was a metre–gap separating the shelves in the back half of the store from those in the front. That meant, for several long seconds, there would be nothing between me and the monster. I hoped it would be facing away, otherwise it all came down to my speed against its, and I knew who I’d be putting money on in that particular race.
Steeling my nerves, I took a step out into the open.
The sounds of the creature’s feeding continued on, undisturbed. I took another, then another. I was now far out enough to get my first good look at the thing. Or at the very least its back, to my great relief.
It was a hideous, lumpy grey. Like a toad’s. From its front limbs sprouted batlike wings, criss–crossed with a tracery of dark veins. They wrapped around its prey as it fed, obscuring its neck and head from view.
The cashier had stopped making sounds, and I hoped that she was dead.
With effort, I tore my gaze away and crept onwards, heart hammering as I took the two more steps into the relative safety of the shelves beyond, where I breathed an internal sigh of relief. It was now a straight line to the door.
And then I made a mistake.
My journey up till now had been measured, carefully patient, but with the most dangerous moments over and escape almost in my grasp, I let myself relax a bit too much. My arm brushed against a packet of crisps, and it crinkled loudly. I froze. The chewing sounds behind me stopped, replaced by a low growling.
I ran.
The short dash to the door couldn’t have been more than three seconds; it felt much longer. I shoved my way outside and bolted down the street, faster than I’d ever run before. It was a small mercy that the winds were at my back, otherwise I would have died then and there.
I was barely three houses down when a deafening screech came from behind me. I ran faster, my heart beating so violently that it hurt. A cold chill ran through me as the creature’s cry was answered by a chorus of others. It wasn’t alone.
From behind me came the sound of wings beating against air. I didn’t dare look, didn’t dare take my eyes off the street in front of me for even half a second. Tripping would be fatal.
Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating several dark silhouettes which circled overhead, shrieking. The wingbeats behind me grew louder, and I instinctively ducked. Talons closed around the space my head had been a moment before. The thing screeched in frustration. It circled round for a second pass, and I knew that this time, it wouldn’t miss.
Hope surged within me as I spotted my house ahead. A burst of energy carried me forwards the last dozen metres, and I ducked into my porch, stabbed my key into the lock, twisted, pushed, then threw it shut behind me. Just in time, as something heavy slammed into the other side, letting out an angry wail. I collapsed to the floor, panting.
“Jay, what the fuck is happening?”
It was Lucien. His eyes were wide, darting between me and the door, which shook periodically as the thing on the other side threw itself against it relentlessly. I pushed myself back up. Couldn’t afford to relax right now.
“Monsters in the storm. No time to explain. Need to—hide—attic. Now!”
We locked eyes. For a moment I saw a flicker of doubt and uncertainty in his expression, only to fade to grim determination as he saw the terror in mine.
Something splintered in the doorframe, and we both flinched. It wouldn’t last much longer under that onslaught.
“Where did Mum and Dad leave the key?” He said, finally.
“Their room. Next to the bed.”
As we passed through the kitchen, a silent understanding was shared between us. I grabbed the two biggest knives I could find and handed one to him. If worse came to worst, I was determined not to go down easy.
He took the knife hesitantly, the cold weight of its handle a final confirmation of the reality of the situation. When he spoke, his voice was strained but calm.
“Look. Jay. I–I don’t fully know what’s happening, or what this is, but in case things don’t turn out the best for us, I just want you to know that… that you’re the best damn little brother anyone could ask for. The last eighteen years and nine months have been an honour. Even if you can be annoying as fuck sometimes.” Then he smiled. A sad, warm smile. Suddenly, I was fighting back tears.
“I’m older than you, you little shit.” I gave a small chuckle, but it turned into a choked–back sob. “Love you too. God… I fucked up didn’t I? Led those things here.”
“No. Stop. No use talking like that.” He put his hand on my head and ruffled my hair. “We do this together, like we’ve always done.”
I sniffed, wiping away my tears.
“Okay.”
Our parents’ bedroom was the first room on the right, going up the stairs. Thinking about them was painful. God, what if they came back to find the door broken down, the house empty and bloodstains everywhere. What would that do to them?
There was a loud crash from below. We both froze.
“Hurry, before they start looking up here,” he said.
The hatch to the attic was at the end of the corridor, just before the door to the bathroom. It was one of those that could only be reached with a stepladder. I winced with each and every creak and groan it made as it unfolded, praying that the sound wouldn’t reach downstairs.
I went first, and Lucien held the ladder steady so it wouldn’t rattle too much.
“Lucien, quickly!” I whispered, reaching out my hand. He moved to take it.
Floorboards creaked.
He spun round.
The thing stepped into view. It was somehow even uglier from the front. A hunched, simian body with a long, serpentine neck, the skin around which was loose and sagged like an old man’s. It crawled with its wings folded behind its forearms, like a pterosaur. Worst of all was the face. Black, beady eyes. Slitted nostrils. A mouth full of jagged needles, the edges pulled back in a permanent leering grin. All of it was arranged so that the features were superficially humanoid, yet utterly alien.
It lunged.
Letting go of my arm, he threw himself off the ladder an instant before the creature slammed into it. Metal clanged and clattered. The thing shrieked, and a chorus of answering cries came from downstairs.
“Close it!” He yelled up at me.
“N–no! How will you…”
“Don’t worry about me, just close it!”
He held the knife out between himself and the creature. It moved to the side, and he moved the blade to follow, keeping the point towards it. It growled with frustration, but it kept its distance. Somehow, it seemed to understand the danger the knife posed.
My eyes flickered to the stairwell, as a second creature crawled its way onto the landing. I glanced back at Lucien. He was holding the first one at bay, but it would be impossible to keep the knife trained on two at once. I could see it happen in my mind’s eye: they’d probe and feint, tiring him out. Then, he’d make a mistake. Move the blade just a fraction of a second too late. And that would be it.
“Close the hatch!”
The first creature was directly below me now. Its eyes were trained on Lucien, drool dripping from its maw as it searched hungrily for an opening. Slowly, my hands moved, gripping the sides of the hatch. My eyes screwed shut.
And I pulled myself over the edge.
The monster shrieked in surprise as I dropped onto it. It bucked and shook, trying to throw me off. I dug my knife into its back and clung on for dear life. Its neck whipped round, and I rolled to the side to avoid its gnashing teeth. The force of my now imbalanced weight pulled against the knife, dragging it down and across the creature’s slimy skin. Blood welled up in its wake, a muddy red. It screeched. I planted my shoes firmly on the ground, pulling harder at the blade, slashing it across the thing’s wing membrane before tugging it free. It lashed out, pinning me against the wall with its pale arm. The bear–trap jaws opened wide.
Lucien’s kitchen knife sunk into the side of its head. A horrible, ear–splitting shriek reverberated through the house, echoing in my skull.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the way as it writhed and flailed in dying anguish.
“Why?” He asked, finally.
“Like you said. We do this together.” My voice was calm, projecting a confidence I didn’t feel. The second creature had stopped. For now it kept its distance, cautious of the fact that we’d managed to take down its friend, but it would soon be joined by more.
Lucien let out a sigh. “Alright. Cover me.”
He set the ladder back upright, and began the climb. My heart thundered, but I kept my eyes level with the creature’s hungry gaze, my grip on my weapon steady.
Don’t show fear. No sudden movements.
A clawed hand hooked itself over the bannister, as a third creature hauled itself onto the landing, followed by a fourth.
“I’m up!” Lucien shouted.
Don’t turn your back.
I flung my knife at the monsters. I needed my hands free, and maybe it would buy me a precious half–second. I heard it clatter to the ground behind me as I practically dashed up the ladder, followed by a chorus of screeches.
I almost made it.
I was on the last few steps when an intense, searing pain shot through my calf. A wordless scream escaped my lips as I felt myself being dragged down, away from safety, away from my brother.
Lucien’s pale hand emerged from the square of darkness above, seizing me by the arm. I reached out with my other hand, grasping the edge of the hatch. With my free leg, I kicked at the jaws which held me, but they refused to let go. For a moment there I was, caught in the air above certain doom. Then he hauled, and I felt something give. Agony burned up my leg as hundreds of needle–like teeth tore their way free of my flesh. I was pulled up the last few metres, and collapsed onto the dusty floorboards of the attic, eyes watering from the pain. Lucien slammed the hatch shut, then dragged an old cupboard down on top of it. He slumped down next to me, breathing heavily.
“Hopefully that holds. It’s on the ceiling so, fingers crossed, they won’t have the leverage to bash it open like they did with the door.”
The hatch rattled and jolted, as if in response. For several minutes we watched in silence, waiting for his words to be proven wrong. But it held fast.
As my adrenaline subsided, the pain in my leg pulsed, demanding attention. It wasn’t a clean wound. The creature had held on until the very last moment, leaving a series of deep gouges where its teeth had raked through my flesh. Some had broken off, leaving jagged white spines buried in my leg. I pulled at one slowly, and the pain crescendoed until it was practically unbearable. Taking a deep breath, I yanked it out.
Lucien helped with the rest of them. Each piece that was removed introduced me to new heights of agony, but within a few minutes it was done, and we bandaged it as best we could with a piece of my shirt.
Eventually, the banging and scratching from the hatch ceased, replaced with howling and screeching and the wet tearing of flesh as the ravenous creatures turned on their dead comrade. I clamped my hands over my ears, screwed my eyes shut. Yet I could do nothing to stop the images that flashed through my mind. For a moment I was back amongst the aisles of that corner store, just one shelf between me and that thing as it ripped and gnawed at its still living prey. But then Lucien’s comforting hand was on my shoulder, bringing me back to the comforting darkness of the attic.
It took hours for the noises below to cease, but still neither of us dared move. We waited for an eternity with only the howling of the wind and the steady drum of raindrops.
“You should get some rest,” he said, finally. The first words either of us had spoken for hours. “Sleep plays a crucial role in the body’s response to injury.”
“Nerd.”
But he was right. Both my body and mind were utterly exhausted. At some point, I lay down and closed my eyes. Then, at some point after that, I drifted off into an uneasy, feverish sleep.
Lucien filled me in on what happened afterwards. The storm had, eventually, dissipated, and he had been able to get through to emergency services. He gave them a story about a home invasion, where I’d gotten hurt fighting off the attacker, who had then fled. They seemed to buy it, or at least accepted it as a necessary half–truth, never mind that my injuries were closer to that of a wild animal attack than anything a human could inflict. As the paramedics tended to me, he’d overheard one of them mention that this was ‘the fifth case so far’. I shuddered at the thought.
I ended up being passed out for almost 24 hours. Mum and Dad had arrived home by then. There was a tear–filled reunion in the hospital, followed by promises of whatever food, clothing or games I wanted. Some men in black came in, and took my parents aside for a talk. They made Lucien and I sign a bunch of paperwork, and then gave us a bunch of money to keep quiet.
We stayed in a hotel for a week while the door was replaced and the blood was washed out of the walls and floorboards. And then? Well, life carried on as usual, surreal as it seemed. I finished my education. Landed a cushy job. Started a family
It’s now been almost a decade since then. I haven’t talked about the incident for years, and my wife accepts that my astraphobia is just one of my quirks. Sometimes, when there’s been a particularly dry season, I wonder if it even happened at all. But then comes the first thunderstorm of the year, and it all comes rushing back.
You see, it’s not too hard to tell their wailing apart from the wind, once you know what it sounds like.