Page 15 of Hunted By Fae
Mangled to all hell, he’s a fucking pretzel in denim.
I forgot his name already.
Did I even ask his name?
I throw it from my mind and snatch the radio. It’s only now that the radio is rattling in my grip that I even realise how violently I’m shaking.
Bee staggers into the hood.
Her hands flatten on the bonnet for a beat before she winces and, as if burned, steals her hands back to herself.
Maybe she was burned.
It’s fucking hot. Roasting, like this whole place is a sauna, only drier somehow.
The distant reminder to put on more sunscreen is noted.
But radio first.
Bee watches the quiver of my fingers as I fiddle with the dials. I find a murmur, then crank up the volume. The crackle of the radio clears.
‘…the source of the pollution is still being investigated. It is spreading rapidly and causing outages, network, satellite, technical—and even mechanical. Please do not operate heavy machinery at this time.
‘We have lost communication with Britain—it is confirmed that they are in darkness…’
I throw a pointed look over at the others.
Louise has joined us at the truck, but like Ruby, Ramona hangs back.
The urgency sheaths my tone, “That’s what it said earlier—I was listening to it…” And my gaze lands on Bee, on the filmy sheen of her grey eyes. My chin jerks, a general gesture to the dirt field, the stampede that pummelled us. “Before…”
Before the birds.
Before the bats.
Before the stampede.
Before the corpses.
“Darkness?” The word trembles from Bee’s lips. “The radio said…darkness?”
“Yeah, like it’s in the dark—with tech,” Ramona grumbles from behind. “It’s a tech blackout.”
“Then they would say that,” Bee snaps, firm. “But they saiddarkness.”
Ramona scoffs before her murmured response comes, too low, too quiet, “Who fucking cares?”
My mouth twists in concentration, and I turn the tuning dial. The tremors have travelled from my fingers up my arm and spread through my whole body. “No, it was—pollution, they said pollution earlier.”
I find another station.
‘Britain and Northern parts of Europe are in blackouts. Officials are doing everything to stop the spread of the dark cloud, currently moving its way to sea…’
Ramona draws closer. Her steps are hesitant, the stench of shit wafting from her. “Dark cloud?”
Ruby’s whispery voice lures in frowned looks, “Where is everyone?”
It takes me a moment to understand the question, the absolute stupidity of it.
