The End of the World Running Club by Adrian J. Walker Read Free Book Online Page B

sound too.
    The shriek was followed by a short, quivering wail and then a low moan. Then more broken sobs and several hacking, wet coughs. It was a woman’s voice. She must have been about fifteen metres from the hatch. Another shriek, then something else. She was trying to say something. The voice strained and pumped and then spluttered like a car engine starting on a cold day.
    “Hurrurr...urr...”
    Beth’s breathing quickened. I gripped Arthur, still sleeping soundly, to my chest.
    A third shriek and another attempt at speech.
    “Hurrurr...urr...urrr...urrr...urrrrr...eeee”
    The hideous pattern repeated again and again: a single shrill shriek followed by a moment of quiet as whatever was making it pulled together the will to speak.
    “Hurrurr...urr...urrr...urrr...urrrrreeee”
    “Hurrurr...urr...urrrpp...eeeee”
    “Hurrurrrp...eeee”
    “Huurrrpp eeee.”
    Help. Help me.
    “Oh Jesus,” said Beth. “Oh no, oh no, oh please please no, oh Christ.”
    She started to cry. Alice stared straight ahead. I hoped Beth’s hands were enough to stop her from hearing.
    We tried to block out the noise in that strange and useless way you do by closing your eyes as tightly as you can and tensing every muscle in your body: the same way we had done that first night we had tried to break Alice of her night-time crying as a baby, smiling guiltily as we gripped each other in bed and buried ourselves into the pillows.  
    There were others too. A male voice began to howl. It was an inhuman, animal sound that seemed to be moving about. I heard the sound of brick moving against brick. I guessed this one was mobile.
    Another male voice. This one was more of a wheezing growl that descended into coughing almost before it started. Then another female whimper that became louder and louder until it was a single scream that wouldn’t stop. Before long it was impossible to distinguish one from the next. The air above us became a choir of screams, howls, wails and moans. I heard a child crying Want! Want! Want! No!  
    I don’t know how long it went on but the individual cries seemed to drop off one by one until only a single voice remained. It belonged to a woman, quite close by. It wasn’t a scream but an audible, intelligible, well-spoken whisper repeating the same phrase over and over.
    “ Please...help me…please...let me in...”
    As she spoke, her words became closer until we could hear her outside the hatch. Then we heard a scrabbling sound on the wood. Beth shot me a look of warning.
    “Ed?” she said.
    “It’s locked from inside,” I replied.
    She must have heard us because she paused. We heard a croaking sound, as if she was thinking, then a slurp of saliva and a painful gulp. And then she began to thump, slow and feebly, on the hatch.
    “Please...help me...let me in...kill me...please...I want to die...please...help me...let me in...kill me...please...I want to die...”
    At no point did I even consider opening the hatch. I sat down with Beth and we waited. After about an hour, when I felt sure that she would give up, we heard a sudden groaning sound - not human this time, but of concrete and metal. The woman stopped. I pictured her looking above her. Then there was a heavy, hollow crash. The hatch rattled and the ceiling shook and the woman was silent.
    “What was that?” said Beth.
    “Bricks,” I guessed. “Concrete, the rest of our house.”
    We said nothing to each other. Eventually Beth lifted her hands from Alice’s head. He palms were slick with sweat and Alice lay sleeping with her hair drenched and matted.
    Arthur had woken up and was beginning to make noises of hunger.
    “Swap,” said Beth. She carefully released Alice from her arms and lay her down against the damp pillow. We must have been sitting there for most of the morning. We both winced and stretched our numb legs painfully as we stood up to change places. I passed Arthur across and Beth released her right breast for him to suckle.
    There was