Monsters lurked everywhere, and Connor had been forced to ram into a goblin that foolishly stood in their path, causing the van to bounce as the wheels crushed it. One of the peculiar portals had obstructed the road, surrounded by a mass of human corpses. The sight was grotesque, with Grace rolling down her window to dry heave several times, expelling the small amount of bile that rushed up. They hadn’t eaten for several hours, but Connor had urged them on, reasoning that making it to the family home was their best chance at surviving.
“Look, over there!” Peter half-shouted, and Connor instinctively turned to glance before refocusing on the road and slowing to a crawl.
They gazed in the direction Peter had indicated and were awestruck by the size of a corpse leaning against a building. Sitting down, its head was level with the first-floor windows, great big tusks protruding from its mouth. Half of its chest, including its left arm, was gone, and in its right hand, it looked like it had made a crude weapon from the turret of an army tank. Soldiers swarmed the area around it, mingling with several crushed vehicles.
“I guess the army is finally responding,” Grace whispered.
An explosion enveloped the giant’s corpse in a puff of smoke, a trail leading down to a soldier nearby who discarded the used launcher on the ground. As the smoke cleared, Connor’s jaw dropped as he saw that the area struck by the missile was almost undamaged, merely charred by the fire. A nearby soldier approached and began gesturing for them to keep driving, prompting Connor to slam his foot down, accelerating away.
"Did you see that? Right?” Peter asked nervously as he sat down on a box at the back. “The rocket did nothing; are they impervious to guns or something?”
“No, I don’t think so; you saw the wound that killed it. Perhaps something of that size just needs a bigger gun. Let’s just hope we don’t encounter anything like that until we reach my grandparents’ house.”
The roads were a chaotic jumble of cars abandoned where they had been left, some torn open, with huge claw marks marring the thin metal of the body. Connor realised he was becoming desensitised to the presence of the bodies, attempting to regard them as nothing more than obstacles to avoid. Survivors and looters rummaged through the carnage, and thankfully none attempted to interfere with them, but Connor knew that as desperation took hold, tribalism would start to emere, just like in the books he had read.
This was the first time he was driving to his grandparents alone, and he had to rely on landmarks to guide him since the signs were missing and some roads were completely impassable. They had attempted to use their phones for GPS, but strangely, it barely functioned, providing wildly inaccurate locations. Finding more familiar roads, he began to drive a bit faster as the roads were clearer here and surprisingly quiet. The stillness was abruptly shattered when a herd of deer dashed across the road, making him swerve to avoid them, inadvertently crushing the mange-ridden wolf that had been chasing them as he felt something smother him forcefully.
Dazed and confused, Connor suffered from a tremendous headache after the airbag exploded in his face, and he could hear Susan screaming from Grace’s arms. Reaching over, he lifted her into his arms as she leaned against the van’s door, having absorbed most of the impact from her own airbag. Looking back, he saw Peter sprawled on the floor at the back, broken boxes scattered across the floor, cushioning his fall, though a deep gash split his forehead.
Kicking the door open, he struggled out of the van, taking his sword with him, his feet landing in the small stream of the ditch where they had crashed. The engine ticked as it cooled, and he could see that it was completely written off, as the wheels were wrecked and the entire front of the vehicle was crushed like a tin can. He heard whimpering, and looking underneath, he saw the wolf struggling to free itself from where it had been pinned. With one arm cradling Susan, he thrust out his sword, piercing it in the throat and silencing its cries. There was a slight ringing in his ears, but with his sister also crying, he stood still, staring into the forest from where the wolf had come, watching for further trouble.
“Connor? CONNOR! Where’s Susan?” Grace called frantically, stumbling out of the van and landing in the stream on her hands and knees.
“It’s fine, I have her here. Go check on Peter; he’s more hurt than we are.” Unfortunately, there hadn’t been a seat for him, but he realised it could’ve been much worse if he had been driving faster.
It was starting to get late, and the clouds above were turning yellow with the setting sun, too far for them to walk through the night. Climbing into the back of the van, they tried to make themselves comfortable, but Connor couldn’t sleep, too worried about how vulnerable they were.
Susan snored gently in his arms as he sat leaning against the side, while Peter and Grace clung together, both sound asleep. His wound had been healed by her magic; it was miraculous to see the skin pull itself back together, but Connor remembered when it had been he who had suffered. He hadn’t seen it, but felt it, like hundreds of ants in his wound stitching him back together. Thankfully, Susan had appeared unharmed, but Grace still used her healing magic on the screaming baby twice, just to be certain there was nothing unseen lurking out of sight. Doctors and hospitals were probably overwhelmed, or probably destroyed, and they couldn’t call an ambulance to come to their rescue as his picked fragments of shattered glass from his pocket.
They had been able to charge their phones using the van while driving, and he had updated his grandparents about their whereabouts every time he had signal. He hoped they realised he had missed his next check-in and would send someone to look for them. He had tried to prepare for any eventuality, but this was something he didnt anticipated, and he kept reliving the fear from seeing the deer, the sound of the wolf being crushed under the van.
Waking with a start when he realized he had fallen asleep, Connor peered through a gap in the covers they had draped over the windows as the sky outside started to brighten. It was chilly inside the van, and he kept Susan nestled under his jacket, pressed close to his chest, hoping she wouldn’t feel the cold. His eyes felt heavy as his fear of the monsters lurking in the night began to fade, and he fought to keep them open, listening intently to his surroundings. With each blink, he noticed the sky becoming progressively brighter until, quite suddenly, he opened his eyes to a shaft of yellow light streaming in.
The light wasn’t what woke him, but he heard another sound, like a small splash, and his mind plunged into a panicked state as he realised something was outside. Nudging Grace with his foot, her eyes opened instantly, but she didn’t move, seeing his face full of fear. Without needing to ask, she picked up the sound of something sniffling just outside, and she placed her hand over Peter’s mouth, silently waking him. Connor had his sword resting between his legs, but it was impossible to fight with Susan, and he craned his neck down, ensuring the gag was secure over her mouth.
He loathed it, but it was an unfortunate necessity as she couldn’t grasp the need for silence when it truly mattered. Slowly and carefully, he lifted her as Grace extended her arms to receive her, cupping her hands beneath her arms and quietly pulling her close. Leaning back, Connor pressed his ear against the side of the van, attempting to focus and discern what lay outside and how many there were. A sudden snarl erupted, and the van shook as something collided with the engine; he bit his lip, struggling to remain silent as they now no doubt tore into the monster he had slain the night before.
*Clink.*
The sound of something small falling onto the metal floor echoed like an explosion in the quiet of the van, and there was another snarl as Connor rolled away from where he had been sitting. Long claws slashed through the side of the van, rocking the vehicle again, and a yellow eye appeared, glaring at them within, causing Grace to yelp in fear. Connor, desperate to protect them, lifted his sword and thrust it through the hole, feeling the weapon jerk from his hands as the wolf whimpered in pain. Pulling away, he found the sword’s hand guard was too large to pass through the gashes and it clattered to the floor, prompting him to dive and retrieve it.
“I’m going out; stay here!” he ordered the other two, as another heavy paw hit the van, widening the hole slightly. Susan screamed through her gag while Grace held her tightly, eyes shut in terror joining in her cries.
Pulling the handle, Connor leapt out of the back door and slammed it shut as he glanced at three wolves in front of him. The closest one had its hackles raised and was growling at him, while behind it, Connor noticed another limping, blood streaming from its shoulder, wounded by his sword. The third wolf was further back and appeared to be circling around. Connor’s eyes darted between them, attempting to figure out how he was supposed to fight all of them. Raising his pilfered shield, he shuffled toward the nearest one and braced himself as it lunged forward.
Driven to his knees, he pushed back, surprised that he could easily shove it off, and he swung his arm out, letting the blade slice across its chest. Whining in pain, the wolf backed away from him as the other injured wolf limped closer. He swung his shield out, instinctively attempting to summon the strange magical force within him.
Power coursed through him, a momentary reprieve from the fatigue, and with a bone-snapping sound, the wolf flew away, striking a tree across the ditch. Connor winced as it nearly wrapped itself around the trunk before plummeting to the ground, very much dead. Faced with two wolves remaining, Connor retreated a few steps to shield his right flank with the van, watching as they crept closer.
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“FIREBALL!” Peter shouted from inside the van as Connor saw his hand dangerously protruding through the gaping side. A ball of fire formed and hurtled towards the wounded wolf, incinerating its fur. In a panic, the wolf began to run in circles, billowing flames as if it ha been covered in oil, and an acrid smell filled Connor’s nostrils, causing his face to wrinkle in disgust.
‘You should slice it.’ A deep voice resonated in his mind, leaving him to wonder whether he had imagined it as he cast anxious glances around as the sudden pressure eased off.
The solitary remaining wolf leapt over the burning carcass of the second wolf and sprinted towards Connor. Bracing himself, he realised he would die if he stood his ground. Although he thought it was foolish, he was about to scream when a part of him told him that was wrong. Suddenly calm, he felt as though his body moved on its own. Stepping forward, he gripped the sword's handle with both hands and swung it upwards, as if using his cricket bat and hoping to score a six. A blue aura enveloped the blade, extending beyond its tip and slicing through the ground in a line as he swung. The wolf, mid-pounce, couldn’t avoid the strike as it swung upwards, cleaving it in half down the middle, its snarl dying in its throat as it perished.
The two halves split apart and flew past Connor, one half striking the van and leaving a wet, bloody smear, while the other half rolled a few times. Landing on the ground with a wet slop, as if it had merged with the tarmac of the road. Connor panted as he suddenly felt exhausted, astonished by the feat he had just accomplished.
He heard the van's door open and looked over to see Peter peering out cautiously, ensuring it was safe before stepping out to help Grace. She passed Susan to Peter and approached Connor, checking that he wasn’t injured. Gently pushing her back, he shook his head, saying he wasn’t hurt, just tired. As she laid her hands on his shoulders, he felt the strength return to his legs and his breathing stabilise, a warm sensation akin to the magic that had filled his body.
“How did you do that?” Peter demanded, incredulously, as he returned Susan to Connor’s arms. “Meteor Strike!” he shouted, raising his hands and pointing down the road before turning around, bright red with shame when nothing occurred.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “It just felt as if my subconscious told me to do it. My body moved on its own, as though I had trained in another life or something.”
“How far are we?” Grace asked eventually, pulling away and scanning up and down the road, though she couldn't see far because of all the trees.
Connor recognised the stretch of road now that it was fully bright and estimated it would be at least a fifteen-minute drive, but walking that distance would take several hours. Deciding to have something to eat first, he rummaged through the boxes in the back and discovered some crisps, a pitiful, but grateful breakfast. It was mostly junk food, but anything remotely nutritious required hot water, which they didn’t have. Sitting in silence, foil bags crinkling, Connor heard the sound of an engine approaching down the road, and soon the others heard it too, ears perking up at his movements.
“Quick! Hide! We don’t know who it is!” he ordered the other two, getting them to jump across the ditch and hide behind a rock, while Connor hid behind the van and peered over. A white van rounded the bend, and Connor glared at it, trying to see who was driving. As it passed, he spotted the emblem of the estate’s groundskeepers on the side and jumped onto the road behind it, waving his arms.
The van came to a screeching halt as the driver finally saw him; the reverse lights illuminated, and it began to back up toward him. Stepping aside, he raised his shield slightly, concealing his sword behind him, wanting to ensure they were friendly first. Screeching to a halt for a second time, Connor’s shoulders sagged in relief when he recognised who was sitting behind the wheel.
“Connor, my boy! We’ve been worried sick!” the man exclaimed, spreading his arms as Connor stepped forward to return the hug.
“It’s good to see you, Billy. Hang on, Grace, Peter, come out; it’s safe!” he shouted into the trees as they emerged from behind the stones.
He pulled out a radio from the van he had been driving. “Billy to everyone, I’ve found Connor and Susan. I’m on the main road towards Buxton; we’ll be returning now.”
“Roger that, safe travels. We’re receiving reports of more hordes in the area,” an unknown voice replied over the radio as he tucked it into his pocket.
Guiding them to the van, they transferred their remaining personal belongings, and Billy grabbed the last few boxes of undamaged food from the van, explaining that it was wise not to let it go to waste. Climbing into the back, Connor noticed it was full of brand new tools, still bearing security tags. It appeared he had looted a hardware store, which Billy reasoned was the right course of action when he had passed it by while searching for them. The car ride was brief, and they encountered no more monsters as they turned onto the estate through the old gates. Connor spotted some crude defences being erected around it, by some of the other groundskeepers who waved with grim smiles as they passed.
“Connor, I knew you had some money, but I assumed it was ‘big house in the country’ and not ‘medieval castle built for the Crusades!’” Grace exclaimed as they emerged from the trees lining the avenue approach.
“Hey, I visited this place on a school trip once; we were shown around all the greenhouses and such,” Peter said, leaning over the front seats to get a better look.
“These lands have been in the family for well over a thousand years. We’ve a long history here,” he said sheepishly, his face reddening with embarrassment.
“It’s more than that, my boy. Your grandfather mentioned how challenging it was to marry your grandmother, having to adjust to all the tales of ghosts haunting the lands and statues that supposedly move at night. I’ve been here for forty years and have never seen it, but I’ve met plenty of people who have.” Billy grinned from the front seat.
“Ghosts?” Peter asked nervously, audibly gulping as he slowly turned to Connor, horror-stricken.
"Oh, don’t start. It’s all just rumours; I’ve never seen anything like that, and neither have my parents. Just drunken tales of trespassers claiming they were attacked in the woods."
“It’s more than that, Connor. Several statues have gone missing in the last two days.” There was an element of fear in Billy’s voice, but Connor didn’t respond, unwilling to accept that they might have come to life and wandered off. With monsters appearing from strange portals, he couldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility, and it troubled him somewhat, but he wanted to reserve judgement until he witnessed it for himself.
As they drove down the avenue toward the castle, Connor watched with interest the throng of people labouring outside the walls, digging the moat deeper while carpenters fashioned stakes from felled trees. Men, women, and teenagers worked together, grim expressions on their faces as they paused to observe the van approach before it drove over the drawbridge into the central courtyard.
The gravel crunched beneath the wheels as they turned sharply, and a chill ran down his spine as he caught sight of one of the monster’s portals in the middle of the courtyard. Barricades had been erected around it, and he noticed armed guards wielding various weapons, keeping watch. Some were armed with shotguns from the armoury, typically reserved for hunting, but now essential for defence.
As he climbed out of the van, he lifted Susan from Grace, who had mercifully taken the bib off her face as she bubbled and spat, gazing up at him innocently. Kissing her on the head, he detected a foul stench emanating from her and realised she needed a bath, now! A smaller section of the massive main door to the keep swung open, and he saw his grandmother charging out. She appeared far fitter than before, no longer in need of her cane, and her posture had straightened, as if she were forty years younger.
“Connor!” she screamed, rushing down the stairs and throwing her arms around him. “We were so worried! What happened? Why didn’t you call? How is Susan? Oh dear, she needs tending to.” Speaking so quickly, Connor merely chuckled as she fussed over the two of them, gripping his face in her hands and kissing him on the cheek.
“Granny, these are my friends, Peter and Grace. This is my grandmother, Countess Charlotte Whittaker,” he said, stepping back to introduce them to one another.
“Hello dears, call me Charlotte. You all look dreadful. Come inside; there’s still a warm breakfast waiting in the kitchen downstairs,” Charlotte said warmly, waving them forward.
“Granny, what’s going on? Why are you still here when that’s inside the walls?” Connor demanded, glancing at the pulsating portal emitting the strange noise nearby.
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear. When all the green monsters came charging out, they fled across the bridge and haven’t been seen since. Since then, nothing has emerged, so we’ve put up some barricades around it to prevent anyone from going inside.” Charlotte said dismissively, but Connor, Grace, and Peter exchanged nervous glances, fully aware of what those things had spewed out.
Dragged inside, Connor made his way to his old room and gave Grace and Peter his parents' room next door. There had still been no word from them, but Connor hoped they were safe. Amid all the chaos on land, he wished they were safe on a boat at sea. 'But what if there are sea monsters?' he wondered, gazing sadly at the family photo on his desk. His grandmother took Susan to her room to clean and change her, while Connor disappeared into his bathroom to do the same.
As he brought some of his clothes next door, he found Grace and Peter awkwardly rummaging through the wardrobe as he had suggested. However, he realised the clothes were the wrong size and style. After dumping some more casual items on the bed for them, they expressed their gratitude, and Grace vanished into the bathroom to get dressed.
“We need to do something about that portal outside,” Connor whispered to Peter, who nodded his head in agreement looking out the window at it.
“Yeah, we were thinking the same. Do you reckon it’s like a game, where we need to go inside and slay the monsters?” There was a nervousness in his voice that Connor felt as well, although he tried to conceal it.
“I suppose so, just as that broadcast message said. I believe it might be a bit easier the first time since all the monsters are on this side, but we’ll need to assemble a team. I’ll speak to my grandparents later and gather everyone together, try to identify those needed for a well-balanced team. Let’s keep this between the three of us for now; I’m not sure how everyone else will react.”
