The Leaping Part 28

'We're going to have to burn everything!'

'OK!'

The bed was still dripping and one of the bedposts was covered in hair, as if the hair had been ripped from somebody's head and painstakingly stuck on to the bedpost with blood. There were huge gouges in the floorboards, the walls. Everything was coming home to me and everything that I had managed to push down, ignore, was floating close to me then, like a ghost, ready to seize me and shake me and force itself to the forefront of my mind. I vomited on to the floor directly in front of me and stepped backwards onto the landing.

I heard Jennifer singing.

I sidled along the landing so that I was outside the bathroom door and she was definitely humming something that sounded familiar. I knew it, I knew it now, it was like something the fiddler had been playing. I shook my head and narrowed my eyes. She had gone mental when I had tried to make a cup of tea and yet now she was cleaning up the stains and leftovers of our friends and singing singing? There was something wrong. Maybe she was pretending to be more upset about all of this than she really was maybe when I had tried to make a cup of tea she had only been pretending pretending to get angry. In front of me, she was damaged, distraught, but once I wasn't looking, she was fine. to get angry. In front of me, she was damaged, distraught, but once I wasn't looking, she was fine.

Was she one of them?

I went to open the bathroom door and then stopped, my hand hovering, and retreated quietly to the bedroom, our master bedroom, as Jennifer had once referred to it. She had to be one of them, but no, she couldn't be, because if she was, she would have killed me. She had to be one of them, but no, she couldn't be, because if she was, she would have killed me.

That was my thinking.

The window was broken. I had noticed it earlier but had not thought about it. I went over and looked out and then I went back and opened the wardrobe, which must have remained closed all through the night judging by the cleanliness of its insides, and gathered up an armful of clothes. Realising that there was nowhere to drop them without their getting covered in the fluids that coated everything, I put them back inside the wardrobe and closed the doors again. The wardrobe was to the left of the window. I moved to the left of the wardrobe and pushed it so that it blocked the open hole.

It left a strange s.p.a.ce a rectangle on the floor that had been spared the fine spray of blood, but was slowly being eaten into by spreading pools of the stuff. In between the drying puddles, the rectangle on the floorboards was clean and clear, the varnish s.h.i.+ning brightly. On the wall, it was slightly different. We had painted the walls in this room pale green. There was a much larger rectangle on the wall. The pale-green wall. There was a much larger rectangle on the pale-green wall. This too had escaped the cloud of gore that seemed to have settled across everything else, and the rectangle of pale green was beautifully obvious and hard-edged and pure. Except that blood was running down into it from the wall above, blood-red blood, streams and trickles of it that gathered together and dribbled downwards at the behest of gravity, that ran together and dissected that pale pure s.p.a.ce, the rectangle, that pale green pure green clean green square-edged s.p.a.ce, invading it. I put my hand to my mouth. The thin lines of blood didn't make the s.p.a.ce any less visible, in any way. It was still clearly there. A beautiful even green against the mottled red of the wall surrounding it. together and dissected that pale pure s.p.a.ce, the rectangle, that pale green pure green clean green square-edged s.p.a.ce, invading it. I put my hand to my mouth. The thin lines of blood didn't make the s.p.a.ce any less visible, in any way. It was still clearly there. A beautiful even green against the mottled red of the wall surrounding it.

The two opposed rectangles somehow created an object that wasn't there. That absence the physical s.p.a.ce that something should have been occupying but wasn't drew tears, and I started to cry. I fell to my knees and my head hit the floor and I carried on crying, like a newborn.

Eventually some kind of sensory perception came back to me, but all I was aware of was lying with my cheek to the floor, fascinated by the way that perspective narrowed the discoloured floorboards the further away from me they were.

I woke up, disorientated. I had been dreaming that we were still at the party, Francis shoving CDs into my hands. 'You have to listen to this. And this. Oh, and these. Have you seen this?' In my dream, he wandered off into another room and returned with a DVD that he wedged under my arm and I went upstairs and put all of the CDs on at once and watched the DVD. It was Postman Pat Postman Pat, but all of the characters had strangely shaped noses like long, wiggly worms and stumbled around in the fog, accidentally groping each other. Then I was in a stone s.p.a.ce underground, some sort of hallway, with archways regularly s.p.a.ced and Postman Pat and the others wouldn't let me out, and they were all getting closer, their wormy noses wriggling furiously. It was bad, scary, because they were still like Plasticine. And then Taylor appeared from nowhere, and just held out his hand, and I took it, and there was a staircase just there, just in front of me, and he led me up it until we were outside, in the bright sunlight, the bright blue sky, a cool spring breeze, daffodils lively along the walls of a kindly-looking old church, and Erin approached from between the gravestones, her red hair a crown, and she said, 'We have to find them.' I knew she meant Francis and Graham. We followed her out of the churchyard and the whole world was just a long, wide, gra.s.sy path, and the gra.s.s was so soft, and the sides of the path curved upwards into s.p.a.ce so we couldn't fall out, and s.p.a.ce was illuminated by purple clouds like at the beginning of s.p.a.ced and Postman Pat and the others wouldn't let me out, and they were all getting closer, their wormy noses wriggling furiously. It was bad, scary, because they were still like Plasticine. And then Taylor appeared from nowhere, and just held out his hand, and I took it, and there was a staircase just there, just in front of me, and he led me up it until we were outside, in the bright sunlight, the bright blue sky, a cool spring breeze, daffodils lively along the walls of a kindly-looking old church, and Erin approached from between the gravestones, her red hair a crown, and she said, 'We have to find them.' I knew she meant Francis and Graham. We followed her out of the churchyard and the whole world was just a long, wide, gra.s.sy path, and the gra.s.s was so soft, and the sides of the path curved upwards into s.p.a.ce so we couldn't fall out, and s.p.a.ce was illuminated by purple clouds like at the beginning of Star Trek: The Next Generation Star Trek: The Next Generation and in the distance, at the end, was an infinitely tall castle. I knew that was where they were, safe and warm, and we got there and listened to Francis' CDs all night and played chess and ate walnut bread and drank mulled wine and looked out at the sky and we knew that all the world was there, we could see it all and it all made sense and Erin took each of us to bed in turn, and it was not cheap or meaningless but the ultimate in tender, loving friends.h.i.+p, and she was a beautiful girl, such a beautiful, beautiful girl, and in my dream she wanted to free us all in every way imaginable and she did and she wanted to in real life too, she wanted to, I believe that. But what about her? and in the distance, at the end, was an infinitely tall castle. I knew that was where they were, safe and warm, and we got there and listened to Francis' CDs all night and played chess and ate walnut bread and drank mulled wine and looked out at the sky and we knew that all the world was there, we could see it all and it all made sense and Erin took each of us to bed in turn, and it was not cheap or meaningless but the ultimate in tender, loving friends.h.i.+p, and she was a beautiful girl, such a beautiful, beautiful girl, and in my dream she wanted to free us all in every way imaginable and she did and she wanted to in real life too, she wanted to, I believe that. But what about her? What about Erin? I lay there in her arms in the biggest bed and she was so warm and so perfect. The castle was infinitely tall. Towers springing from towers. What about Erin? I lay there in her arms in the biggest bed and she was so warm and so perfect. The castle was infinitely tall. Towers springing from towers.

The dream made me sad. As a child I had loved Postman Pat Postman Pat more than anything. I stood up, put my hand to my head and stumbled out of the room. 'Jennifer?' I said. more than anything. I stood up, put my hand to my head and stumbled out of the room. 'Jennifer?' I said.

'Yes?' she said, sweetly, making her way up the stairs towards me.

'I'm sorry. I fell asleep.' I cannot even begin to work you out, I thought.

'Jack,' she said.

I walked towards her and slipped on the stairs and landed on my coccyx. 'Ow,' I said.

'You're tired,' she said.

Back in our bedroom, Jennifer threw all the b.l.o.o.d.y bedclothes on the floor and turned the mattress over and said, 'Sleep on that.' The underside of the mattress was spotted with small red dots that signified columns of blood between one side of the thing and the other. I lay down all the same and fell asleep pretty quickly. Even when I woke up, periodically, I felt like I was still asleep, and the house at that point in time was not a good place to sleep and maybe it never had been.

For a short period of time I was standing over the bed in the other room, the one with the blue and white wallpaper, and there was a human spine there, and a skull, and a spread-out skin, and a tangled-up matted cord of red hair on the floor, covered in slime. I saw the white dress that Erin had been wearing and then I knew the spine, the skull, the skin, the hair they were all hers. Thank G.o.d Taylor didn't have to see this, I thought, but then, Taylor was one of dress that Erin had been wearing and then I knew the spine, the skull, the skin, the hair they were all hers. Thank G.o.d Taylor didn't have to see this, I thought, but then, Taylor was one of them them now and of course, that was why. Her dress looked so, so small, the way clothes do once they've been discarded. now and of course, that was why. Her dress looked so, so small, the way clothes do once they've been discarded.

Then I was somewhere else.

In my dream if it was a dream Taylor and Erin made love in that room, and her spine was there too, underneath them, between them, beside them, and a man hung from a rope, his legs kicking, and the wallpaper tore itself from the walls, curling into bone-white sc.r.a.ps that acc.u.mulated around the edges of the room, piling into drifts that blurred boundaries, making it hard to tell the door from the wall, the wall from the floor, the floor from the bed, the bed from the bodies, the bodies from the bones, Taylor from Erin, Erin from Taylor. The man kicking on the rope spun around and I saw that he had my face, my face was his and I was the man kicking, dancing, spinning on the rope. Kicking kicking kicking on the rope.

I drifted in and out for I didn't know how long. Jennifer was there sometimes and sometimes she wasn't. Sometimes looking out of the window and sometimes holding my hand.

'Are you sleeping?' I asked. 'You've had a longer, harder night than I have.'

'I'm asleep when you're asleep,' she said. 'That's why you never see me sleeping.'

'Where do you sleep?' I asked. 'You're not here on this mattress with me. Where do you sleep?' But I must have asked that question in a dream, or half in and half out of sleep, because I was sitting upright all of a sudden, looking round for an answer, and she wasn't there. I shook my head, on the one hand amazed by her mental strength, but on the other not surprised, because she was incredibly strong, she had to have been, ever since her mother had started falling over, thinking their house changed shape just to trip her, confuse her, thinking her dreams were real, slapping Jennifer across the face if Jennifer suggested that it had only been a dream. Mum, please please.

'Jennifer,' I mumbled occasionally. 'Don't go outside. We don't know what's happening out there.'

'Don't worry,' she said. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

At other times, I sincerely believed that I was being held captive. Was she drugging me? How was it that she stayed upright, smiling and making sense? She had had to be one of them. She to be one of them. She had had to be. When I was thinking like this, I stood up, my legs feeling heavy and weak at the same time, like breezeblocks on the ends of elastic bands. I would show her that I was capable. I would show her that I would not be held there like a sick child. I walked over to the window and looked out on another world. The fell-side was black, blasted free of all gra.s.s or earth, and the sky was pink along the horizon, deepening to a dark red straight above, and the features of the valley were lost in to be. When I was thinking like this, I stood up, my legs feeling heavy and weak at the same time, like breezeblocks on the ends of elastic bands. I would show her that I was capable. I would show her that I would not be held there like a sick child. I walked over to the window and looked out on another world. The fell-side was black, blasted free of all gra.s.s or earth, and the sky was pink along the horizon, deepening to a dark red straight above, and the features of the valley were lost in shadow, but there were fires down there, lots and lots of fires. I would not be kept like a sick child, I thought, and then was at an utter loss when it came to working out what to do next. Always, the next thing I knew was that I was waking up again. shadow, but there were fires down there, lots and lots of fires. I would not be kept like a sick child, I thought, and then was at an utter loss when it came to working out what to do next. Always, the next thing I knew was that I was waking up again.

Sometimes she was there and sometimes she wasn't.

I was quite prepared to believe that most of what I thought was happening was only happening in dreams.

I did not believe that dreams meant anything. I did not believe that they meant anything at all.

'Why don't you sleep?' I said.

'Where do you sleep?' I said.

'Don't go outside,' I said.

How could she have been keeping me captive? Not how, but why? Why would she be doing that to me after I had risked everything for her? There was something colossal that I was missing, something fundamental to the story, the situation we were in. Sometimes I woke up and heard her talking, but not to me.

'So when you hang still, that's just because you're tired of kicking?' she said in the next room, the one with Erin's spine in it. I heard her clearly and it struck me as strange at first, and then when I remembered the dream of myself hanging, kicking, on the rope, I made the connection and it froze me all up.

'So when you hang still, that's just because you're tired of kicking?'

I rolled around on the mattress, on the forever-stained floor, and my mind rolled around in my head like a globe, always coming back to the same point. This is where you live. Why was she keeping me captive? always coming back to the same point. This is where you live. Why was she keeping me captive?

I remembered Graham, leering out of the dark on some night earlier on in time.

'The thing with women,' he had said, 'is that they're all basically split down the middle.'

I rolled around and around the house, my mind rolling around and around inside my body, Graham and his poison slopping around inside my mind. It was a haunted house and I was haunting it as much as anything.

Eventually I came back to myself and I could walk around the room without verging on a breakdown. It looked to me like it would be possible to clean the room after all, and if I could clean the room, then why not the whole house?

I listened at the top of the stairs. I could hear Jennifer's movement in the kitchen so she was still there then, thankfully. 'I'm OK now, everything is OK!' I shouted down to her. Not that she had been as overwhelmed as I had, of course. 'I'm going to have a shower and get clean and get changed if that's alright?'

'Of course that's alright!' she shouted back up. 'Why wouldn't it be?'

In the shower which was spotlessly clean I started to wonder if I had actually been ill and, if so, why Jennifer had not called a doctor. Maybe the phones still weren't working, or maybe I had appeared more stable than I had felt, or maybe the whole period just had not lasted as long as it had seemed. Whatever had happened, she had been nothing but caring, dealing with her own trauma silently and internally. Really, I should have been stronger for her. long as it had seemed. Whatever had happened, she had been nothing but caring, dealing with her own trauma silently and internally. Really, I should have been stronger for her.

Those were the things that I told myself, but still I couldn't shake the impression of some emptiness right there at the centre of it all, in the house. A vacuum that we were circling around. The reason for everything that had happened, and the meaning behind it all, if there was one, just faded in and out around the edges, around the outside, around the fell.

The hot water coursed down my body and I started to feel more awake.

I remembered Jennifer squeezing my hand while I had been delirious. Her lips against my ear. 'Jack, my darling. My kitten. My lover. My Jack.'

Had ringing the police ever really been an option? I thought about this as I approached the barn. I mean, we hadn't had any working phones, but at no point had any of us thought of running down the fellside to find some other house in order to make a telephone call, because it just hadn't seemed feasible somehow, or realistic. And it wasn't feasible at this point, either, because how many people had died before our eyes, without us preventing it? I had killed Kenny myself. Did he have a family?

How old was he?

The sky was a dark pink colour.

I reached the barn door, which was still slightly open, and braced myself. Graham's warning not to enter the barn resurfaced in my brain. Don't go into the barn. Don't go into the barn. His wavering voice circled round and round. The bodies I would see in there were the bodies of people not lycanthropes, not monsters of any sort, just guests, visitors, people who had found themselves in the way. I could have set fire to the whole building, but that might have led to a well-meaning valley-dweller ringing 999 for a fire engine. No. I had a shovel with me, and that would have to do. and braced myself. Graham's warning not to enter the barn resurfaced in my brain. Don't go into the barn. Don't go into the barn. His wavering voice circled round and round. The bodies I would see in there were the bodies of people not lycanthropes, not monsters of any sort, just guests, visitors, people who had found themselves in the way. I could have set fire to the whole building, but that might have led to a well-meaning valley-dweller ringing 999 for a fire engine. No. I had a shovel with me, and that would have to do.

The things we become.

However far we thought we had come, we were only ever balancing on the edge. The world we knew was just the thin slippery spine of a high fell, and surviving with your mind intact was just a case of absorbing impacts, welcoming them into your body and dispersing the damage throughout yourself in order to prevent it being a force that knocked you from your feet and into the abyss. Sometimes I thought the best thing to be was something like an empty box, some sort of sh.e.l.l, designed only to hold. Either that or something completely shapeless, neither one thing nor another, able to adjust to anything at a moment's notice, not true to anything or anybody, but accommodating to everything and everybody.

Or both. Just being nothing in particular.

I opened the barn door and despite the holes in the roof the smell of a butcher's shop hung in the air like smog, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they did I saw a small fell in the corner, an actual fell, with ridges and peaks and crags and gullies. A fell in miniature. I knew that it was made of bodies, though, and so I approached the mound apprehensively, half hoping that one of the bodies would move, crawl out of the ma.s.s and be OK. I realised that I was desperate for another face, a friendly face, somebody to talk to that wasn't Jennifer. But, in reality, if anything had moved, I would have split its head with the shovel. fell, with ridges and peaks and crags and gullies. A fell in miniature. I knew that it was made of bodies, though, and so I approached the mound apprehensively, half hoping that one of the bodies would move, crawl out of the ma.s.s and be OK. I realised that I was desperate for another face, a friendly face, somebody to talk to that wasn't Jennifer. But, in reality, if anything had moved, I would have split its head with the shovel.

The bodies remained motionless. There were lots of them. Lots and lots of them. I nearly tripped over one that was stretched out on the floor and was evidently the one that Graham had killed with the axe. It looked just as human as the rest. And there was that element of tragedy in everything, that idea of only being human at the end, a body like any other. Was that the case? Or was there some spirit in these lycanthropes that found somewhere else to go once their physical human sh.e.l.ls had been broken up? I didn't know, and I didn't know which was worse. That body was going in with the others though. I was only digging one hole.

I didn't get too close to the pile of things that had been my friends I moved into the opposite corner and started to dig.

Inside, Jennifer was continuing with the clean-up of the house. I had left her mopping the ceiling of the living-room. She was displaying single-mindedness and stoicism that unnerved me. I was split most of me was trying to maintain that she was an angel, swallowing her grief and distress in order to push through this period of readjustment intact and pull me through with her, to keep it all together for both our sakes, as I had demonstrated that I was woefully incapable of doing so myself. The rest of me only a small part was convinced that Jennifer was a lycanthrope, a monster, and that was the only way she was managing to get through it all without a breakdown of the kind that I had had. That way of thinking was deeply arrogant, a.s.suming as it did that she could be no stronger than I was. But even though the fear was only a whisper at the back of my mind, it worked its way right through every thought, every working of my brain. There was the proverb a barrel of wine, a barrel of sewage. Put a teaspoon of the wine in the sewage, and it wouldn't make the sewage any more palatable. But put a teaspoon of sewage in the wine, and the wine would immediately be toxic. The world was weighted in this way. The quiet voice that insisted that Jennifer was one of them, a monster, that voice was the sewage inside me. Despite most of me believing in her virtue, that quiet voice slowly ruined everything. readjustment intact and pull me through with her, to keep it all together for both our sakes, as I had demonstrated that I was woefully incapable of doing so myself. The rest of me only a small part was convinced that Jennifer was a lycanthrope, a monster, and that was the only way she was managing to get through it all without a breakdown of the kind that I had had. That way of thinking was deeply arrogant, a.s.suming as it did that she could be no stronger than I was. But even though the fear was only a whisper at the back of my mind, it worked its way right through every thought, every working of my brain. There was the proverb a barrel of wine, a barrel of sewage. Put a teaspoon of the wine in the sewage, and it wouldn't make the sewage any more palatable. But put a teaspoon of sewage in the wine, and the wine would immediately be toxic. The world was weighted in this way. The quiet voice that insisted that Jennifer was one of them, a monster, that voice was the sewage inside me. Despite most of me believing in her virtue, that quiet voice slowly ruined everything.

I dug into the hard earth. The smells of meat and p.i.s.s and s.h.i.+t clogged my nostrils and I imagined ruptured bowels leaking into the open air. I kept looking towards the door and being hypnotised by the movements of the blue-grey clouds across the archway. In there, in the barn, it felt unnaturally dark. I scrambled from the hole I was digging and surveyed my progress. The hole was maybe three feet wide, four feet long, a couple deep. I was sweating and I needed a torch, so I dropped the shovel and headed out of the barn, headed into the yard. It didn't have to be a torch, it could be a lantern anything that would shed some light. From the yard, I saw Jennifer through the kitchen window. The room was warm-looking from out there, and she was beautiful. The air was a deepening blue. She was was.h.i.+ng something in the sink and I paused to watch her. From where I was standing there was no sign of all of the violence, the gore, the fear, the h.e.l.lish creatures that had broken into our lives. All that was locked away inside my head as recent memory, together with apprehension. I knew that it wasn't over. and headed out of the barn, headed into the yard. It didn't have to be a torch, it could be a lantern anything that would shed some light. From the yard, I saw Jennifer through the kitchen window. The room was warm-looking from out there, and she was beautiful. The air was a deepening blue. She was was.h.i.+ng something in the sink and I paused to watch her. From where I was standing there was no sign of all of the violence, the gore, the fear, the h.e.l.lish creatures that had broken into our lives. All that was locked away inside my head as recent memory, together with apprehension. I knew that it wasn't over.

Hesitantly, I put one foot in front of the other and made my way back to the house.

'I've just come for a torch, or a lantern or something,' I shouted through, pus.h.i.+ng the front door open and wiping my feet on the mat. Just out of habit.

'OK!' Jennifer shouted. I could hear music coming from the kitchen. It was fast and lively and there was a fiddle in there somewhere. It put cold rods up my back. I saw that the living-room was clean now, more or less, apart from very faint pink stains on the walls. The upholstery had been taken off the furniture and washed and was hanging on a clothes-horse in front of the fireplace, in which Jennifer had stacked and lit a tight bundle of bunched newspaper, thin sticks and dusty coal. The flames licked up the back of the fireplace, hot and cheerful, and the room felt nice, or it would have felt nice if things had been otherwise. You could have walked into this room and believed that everything was normal. The room and believed that everything was normal. The room was was normal, almost. The valley could have been a wonderful place to raise a child. We could have cleaned the house right up and tried to start a family, and turned a spare room into a nursery and given the hypothetical child a fantastic attic bedroom with skylights, everything. I turned around in the living-room and looked at all of the walls and yes, everything was kind of normal, but that music I couldn't bear to hear that music. And I had work to do, anyway. normal, almost. The valley could have been a wonderful place to raise a child. We could have cleaned the house right up and tried to start a family, and turned a spare room into a nursery and given the hypothetical child a fantastic attic bedroom with skylights, everything. I turned around in the living-room and looked at all of the walls and yes, everything was kind of normal, but that music I couldn't bear to hear that music. And I had work to do, anyway.

I went through to the kitchen, and gave Jennifer a quick hug and laughed at something nice she said, I didn't know what, and moved away as she tried to kiss me. I pretended that I was just looking elsewhere, pretended I was not seeing her face getting closer with her eyes half-closed and her lips beautiful and hungry. I floated through into the utility room at the back. I found two torches a big chunky red plastic one and a small metal one that I could slip into my pocket and an old oil lantern that we always meant to take camping.

I picked the lantern up with one hand, then rushed back out through the kitchen so that Jennifer didn't see me and ask what was wrong. I picked up the box of matches from the mantelpiece above the now roaring fire, and went out through the front door.

I stopped in the yard and looked back over into the kitchen window. If I had a gun would I be able to stand there and shoot her? I could have got one, I could have got one from some Tony-Martin-esque local farmer, and it would have been easier to do, more palatable, than attacking and killing her at close quarters. It would have been easier to do it in a split second, before changing my mind, almost by accident. Thinking about it would almost be the same as doing it, once I was standing there with my finger on the trigger. it would have been easier to do, more palatable, than attacking and killing her at close quarters. It would have been easier to do it in a split second, before changing my mind, almost by accident. Thinking about it would almost be the same as doing it, once I was standing there with my finger on the trigger.

I turned and made my way back to the barn. Of course, I didn't have a gun and besides, if I had it in me to kill her with a gun, I had it in me to kill her without. But I was not going to kill her. She was just a person, just a human, only human, like me, and I could never have done that, not to Jennifer, my Morgana le Fay, my love, not you.

If only I was one of them and I could banish all doubt and worry, just like that, because rationalising did nothing for me. If she was one of them she would surely have tried to kill me by this point, but the idea was still there, a black thing polluting every thought.

Inside the barn, I lit the lantern. The flickering light warped the shape of the whole place, made it appear as if the walls and the ground and the bodies were bouncing to and fro, stretching, snapping back, bending one way, then the other, wavering like insubstantial things, films of water, flames, holograms, sheets of rain. It was as if things were jumping into my field of vision and then out again, whereas really I supposed it was my field of vision that was s.h.i.+fting. I put the lantern down between the hole and the bodies I didn't want them where I couldn't see them and I turned both of the torches on and laid them on the ground so that they illuminated the area in which I was working, and I picked up the shovel and started digging again. them on the ground so that they illuminated the area in which I was working, and I picked up the shovel and started digging again.

I dug and dug and dug. I got too warm and took my jacket off, and then my jumper and then my T-s.h.i.+rt and still I was too hot. Sweat ran down my body in streams, cascading down from beneath my hair, under my arms, between my shoulder-blades, my forehead, and soil stuck to the sweat and slowly I became covered in mud. I dug and dug, and the torches shone their light horizontally across the top of the hole, so as it grew deeper the bottom descended into darkness and became invisible. Every now and again I stopped and looked across at the bodies and I recognised some of the visible faces but could not attach names to them, even though three days previously I would have counted most of them as friends, people that I could have talked to. I carried on digging.

I thought more about Jennifer's words of consolation. Jack. My darling. My kitten. My Jack. But there was so much blood in the air. I stopped digging. I wanted us to be OK, but how? How could we keep ourselves safe? We could leave, of course. Yes. We would leave, move to somewhere well away from there and that G.o.dforsaken house, but what if Jennifer was was a werewolf? How would we stop her from changing? How could I live with her? Was keeping myself safe possible? No. We couldn't ever leave, not as long as there was a chance that Jennifer was one of them, because there Fell House was the perfect place for keeping something like that hidden. a werewolf? How would we stop her from changing? How could I live with her? Was keeping myself safe possible? No. We couldn't ever leave, not as long as there was a chance that Jennifer was one of them, because there Fell House was the perfect place for keeping something like that hidden.

And I supposed we could never have children. Not as long as I didn't know.

I threw down my shovel.

I climbed out of the hole, more slowly this time because it was deeper than before. I left the barn and went around the back.

At the other end of the barn there was the small outhouse, not visible from any of the windows of the main house. I flicked the large, outdoor light switch and the low dangling bulb flickered on. The small metal chair and hacksaw gleamed dully in the dim glow. I looked at the door and it was heavy, st.u.r.dy wood, much like the front door of the house. I checked the padlock, which was slightly rusty, but looked like it would still work. The key was lodged inside. I worked it free and slipped it into my pocket.

The s.p.a.ce would do, if it came to it.

I returned to the hole. The light from the lantern still trembled. The two torches caught the pit in their crossfire and it looked blacker than black. I climbed back inside. It was big now, but still nowhere big enough.

It grew darker outside. I was lost in the digging. When the barn door suddenly squealed like something alive, my skin tightened so much that it might have broken open. I poked my head up over the edge and saw that the noise had been made by Jennifer entering. She knelt down at the edge of the hole and put down a tray with a cup of tea and some sandwiches on it. She lowered herself down on to all fours and brought her head down to kiss me.

'Thank you for doing this,' she said. 'It must be awful.'

'I forget they're there,' I said, nodding towards the bodies. I looked back at her, and her huge eyes bored into mine. Resting on her elbows, she brought her hands in towards her chest and started unb.u.t.toning her s.h.i.+rt.

'Jennifer,' I said. 'I don't know if now's the time.'

'I've been thinking,' she said. 'There is something to be said, maybe, for the way they live. We only have so long. This is something that we know, everybody knows it all the time, but with so much death happening all at once. Makes you think. I saw them dancing and I saw them f.u.c.king. It was like we could be, Jack. People could live that way. We could be like them. Without the killing. Just the pure joy. The pa.s.sions.'

'You don't really want to be like them,' I said. I knew she did, though, and I knew I did too. 'We couldn't all be like them, anyway. Nothing would ever get done.'

'I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to love you, Jack,' she said. 'And besides. You stand there with your s.h.i.+rt off, covered in sweat and dirt, looking at me with eyes like that and tell me you don't want me?'

'That's not what I said.' I pulled myself up over the side. Jennifer moved backwards so that she was resting on her knees. Beneath her s.h.i.+rt, her nipples were visible above the cups of her bra, hard in the cold, and she carried on unb.u.t.toning and then shrugged the s.h.i.+rt off. She unhooked her bra and removed that too. She stood up and undid her b.u.t.terfly-buckled belt and rolled down her jeans, bending over towards me as she did so, and everything was either blue in the light of the moon or orange in the light of the lantern or black, silhouetted. She stayed in that position for a moment, leaning forward. Her back was smooth and almost horizontal, lit blue. I was at an angle to her, and saw her slightly from the side. Her hip, like her back and the side of her b.u.t.tock, was also blue. Her hip marked the end of her straight back and the start of her curved b.u.t.tock and was marked itself by the plain white fabric of her knickers. Her legs were straight. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s hung and swayed gently, orange and flickering in the uneven lantern light, and her face was open, her mouth was open, her eyes were wide open, her tongue delicately probing her blus.h.i.+ng lips. Her hair was long and flowed over her face, down her shoulders. She raised one arm and steadied herself on me before stepping out of her rumpled jeans, first with one leg and then the other. She stood back up again, slowly, because she knew I was watching her. everything was either blue in the light of the moon or orange in the light of the lantern or black, silhouetted. She stayed in that position for a moment, leaning forward. Her back was smooth and almost horizontal, lit blue. I was at an angle to her, and saw her slightly from the side. Her hip, like her back and the side of her b.u.t.tock, was also blue. Her hip marked the end of her straight back and the start of her curved b.u.t.tock and was marked itself by the plain white fabric of her knickers. Her legs were straight. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s hung and swayed gently, orange and flickering in the uneven lantern light, and her face was open, her mouth was open, her eyes were wide open, her tongue delicately probing her blus.h.i.+ng lips. Her hair was long and flowed over her face, down her shoulders. She raised one arm and steadied herself on me before stepping out of her rumpled jeans, first with one leg and then the other. She stood back up again, slowly, because she knew I was watching her.

I was was watching her, all of her, but my eyes kept returning to her mouth. If she bit me ... if she bit me, would I try to resist? watching her, all of her, but my eyes kept returning to her mouth. If she bit me ... if she bit me, would I try to resist?

I took my shoes and socks off and then started to undo my belt, but she took over; I had thought my hands were moving at normal speed, but her hands were much quicker than mine. Next to her, it was like I was moving in slow motion. I lay back and lifted my behind from the earth so that she could take my jeans and boxers off, and I lay there naked, and against my skin the earth felt wet. I hoped it was just the sweat that had flooded from my body as I had been digging. I lay there and watched as she slowly walked back over to the barn door, her skin pale, and pushed it wide open. The light from the stars and the slim crescent of a moon poured into the s.p.a.ce. She was a silhouetted shape under the archway, a beautiful shape. She walked back over, slowly, swaying, and my already swollen p.e.n.i.s grew as she approached. I stood up and when she reached me she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed herself against me. She lifted her mouth to kiss mine, and I jerked my head back, thinking what if? But I didn't have the willpower to walk away as she took hold of my erection with her muddy hands. Mud, I thought, dimly. Mud. She gripped me firmly, and looking into her eyes, I thought I just don't know. It was a simple fact that my body was overpowering my mind by this point, although no part of me body or mind was left untainted by the fear of her, the fear that she was one of them. It didn't matter what I thought, what my mind was doing when she went to kiss me my head pulled backwards instinctively. body as I had been digging. I lay there and watched as she slowly walked back over to the barn door, her skin pale, and pushed it wide open. The light from the stars and the slim crescent of a moon poured into the s.p.a.ce. She was a silhouetted shape under the archway, a beautiful shape. She walked back over, slowly, swaying, and my already swollen p.e.n.i.s grew as she approached. I stood up and when she reached me she put her hands on my shoulders and pushed herself against me. She lifted her mouth to kiss mine, and I jerked my head back, thinking what if? But I didn't have the willpower to walk away as she took hold of my erection with her muddy hands. Mud, I thought, dimly. Mud. She gripped me firmly, and looking into her eyes, I thought I just don't know. It was a simple fact that my body was overpowering my mind by this point, although no part of me body or mind was left untainted by the fear of her, the fear that she was one of them. It didn't matter what I thought, what my mind was doing when she went to kiss me my head pulled backwards instinctively.

'Kiss me,' she said.

'No,' I said, more brusquely than I had intended, although I wanted to, I wanted to feel her teeth sinking in. She pushed down on my shoulders and I knelt before her. She parted her legs slightly and I touched her between them and felt that she wanted this too. I took off the brief sc.r.a.p of white cloth that covered her. We were both naked now. My knees were wet and I looked down to see that the ground was turning sloppy, and it must be blood, I thought. Blood. I looked over to the pile of bodies and saw that they were bleeding profusely. They had not bled at all when I was alone. It was as if some rule or some natural law had been suspended. Had all of their dead hearts just started beating in order to pump that sudden blood from their mouths, from the holes in their chests, stomachs? I remembered Graham talking about the grid, his science, his earnest concern, his panic. thought. Blood. I looked over to the pile of bodies and saw that they were bleeding profusely. They had not bled at all when I was alone. It was as if some rule or some natural law had been suspended. Had all of their dead hearts just started beating in order to pump that sudden blood from their mouths, from the holes in their chests, stomachs? I remembered Graham talking about the grid, his science, his earnest concern, his panic.

I pulled Jennifer to the ground and pushed her on to her back. She leant up to kiss me again, but I forced her down and held her arms and slid inside her easily. Her arms and my hands were half submerged in that b.l.o.o.d.y mud and still the stuff cascaded down from the little fell, waterfalls of blood running from a hundred mouths, spilling over the other bodies and creating that ooze for us to writhe in. I held her down so that she couldn't raise her head to kiss me or bite me and she arched her back.

'Get behind me,' she whispered.

I withdrew and she rolled over on to her front, supporting herself on all fours. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and flat stomach were covered in mud, mud that I knew would be rusty in colour if the light was true and full, and the stuff dripped from her budding nipples as we juddered forwards and back, making them look bigger, longer. She lowered her head and threw it backwards, her hair streaming across my face. I reached underneath to find her c.l.i.toris.

Between her fingers the weird earth slimed up. I looked at the back of her head and wondered if her face had changed shape, if her mouth was stretching open like it was giving birth. changed shape, if her mouth was stretching open like it was giving birth.

Every beat of my heart sent a jerky pulse through my p.e.n.i.s and simultaneously seemed to bring fresh gouts of blood from the openings in the bodies in the corner. I watched them and I saw this, saw this connection, and they had become part of our s.e.x. Everything was collapsing together. She groaned and shook as she came, driving her face into the ground, her teeth finding one of my fingers, closing, breaking the skin.

She twisted away and turned to face me and grasped at that suddenly exposed part of me that was slippery and cold, covered with her internal fluids. I felt the o.r.g.a.s.mic heat start to build deep within, and this was the beginning of the end. But she slipped and fell into the hole, disappearing into the dark. She rose up, her side orange and her front blue, and took my glistening orange erection into her mouth. It started to happen quickly, unstoppably, and it was only as I sensed the gathering of the first muscular spasm that I realised where I was, and I thought about her teeth closing on me again. I pulled out of her mouth and it was immediately then, as I started to turn away, that the thick white seed flew from my body, arcing across to her side, falling, always falling, and vanished into the black pit. I watched it and I thought, that came from inside of me.

I looked at my bleeding hand.

It felt like a long time before either of us spoke. During the silence I watched the gush of blood coming from the dead bodies diminish to a slow trickle, and then stop. I looked back at Jennifer. dead bodies diminish to a slow trickle, and then stop. I looked back at Jennifer.

Why hadn't she attacked me before, though? Why hadn't the other werewolves moved in and gutted me? Maybe because I was hers now, for her to use as she wanted. For s.e.x. For whatever else these things needed or wanted. Were those the answers? Things started to make some sort of sense. That was why she had not suffered the same kind of breakdown that I had. That was why she had not told me the truth about Kenny penetrating her. Because she hadn't wanted to explain how he had overpowered her without biting her and turning her into one of them. Because he had had bitten her. bitten her.