CHAPTER ONE
 
 
The first droplets hit as Joseph stepped from his battered Ford. He slammed the door and wiped his brow before rapping the passenger window.
“Ellie? Sweetheart, come on.”
The teen stirred, stifled a yawn, and with a sleepy gaze, gave him the finger.
“Seriously?”
She repositioned herself on the seat, faced the other way, and shrugged. Rainwater raced down the window, blurring the interior as the deluge woke alongside the rest of the country. It was 6.15a.m.
“Fine.” Joseph pressed his face to the glass and raised his voice. “Then no Cookie Crunch, lady.”
“Hey, please.” Her voice came muffled through the window.
“Okay. Get some rest.”
As he stalked across the Tesco car park--already half full; were people that scared?—he stuffed his hands inside his pockets and enjoyed the earthy aroma drifting on the wind. July brought controlled gorse fires across the Wicklow Mountains, and though the rains snubbed the blaze, undoing the farmers’ work, it also amplified the rural smell, tickling Joseph’s nostalgia. The countryside. Just a few more hours and he and Ellie would be out of the city for good.
“Mornin’.” An elderly woman shuffled beneath the shop’s awning as she shivered. She shook rainwater from her cotton-ball hair. “Cats and dogs, isn’t it?”
“It’s really something, yeah.”
“Only the start now. The R755, Roundwood Road, that’s already fucked. Can’t get past. My daughter’s up in Dublin, worried shitless about me. Water and canned foods and I’m grand, I says. Dubliners are going to lose it when they get hit now. Just wait ‘n’ see.”
“Right. Can I get by, please?”
“Oh, sorry.”
Joseph sidestepped the lady as the automatic doors whooshed. Fresh bread teased his stomach from the aisles as a morning DJ recapped the latest: “…and despite protests from environmental groups, the €9 million allocated to the OPW to alleviate risks of flooding on the River Shannon might be too late, say locals. A pinch point in the river burst at 2a.m., leaving many without electricity and more roadways completely submerged. Here to discuss the issue is independent TD and…”
A shopper laughed as he pulled two loaves from a shelf. “Buncha wankers.”
Joseph ignored the chatter on the radio as he grabbed a basket and made for the cereal aisle. Without the Cookie Crunch, getting Ellie up at five in the morning would’ve been a fool’s errand. Their strained relationship caved after breaking the news of his new job a couple of weeks ago. She’d fired on all cylinders, hard enough to match her mother’s wrath. She’d grow to enjoy the countryside. Not like they had a choice.
As Joseph reached for the cereal, a young woman yanked it. The last one.
“Hey, really?”
 She stalked off without a word, leaving him with his arms spread. “Hope you have a great fucking day, you absolute…”
Stop it before you end up on YouTube.
“It’s grand, man.” A construction worker approached as he pulled a box from his cart. “Only sugar anyway. The wife would murder me. Already putting off the next dentist appointment. Here.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, go on.”
Joseph accepted the cereal and stammered for a response. “Jesus. Hey, really appreciate it.”
“Just cereal.”
“To you, yeah. It’s my bargaining chip for the kid.”
“Best of luck with that. Wait until the electricity goes and the little ones have no Wi-Fi. Ever see The Walking Dead? Yeah, wear shin-guards, that’s all I’m saying.”
Joseph chuckled. “Thanks, man.”
“Take care of yourself.”
“Yeah, you, too.” The gesture countered the shop’s tense atmosphere. Joseph now noted the quick clip of the morning browsers, each grabbing rolls of toilet paper and crates of bottled water before emptying the bread aisles. He’d never seen so many customers at dawn, never seen so much commotion. Well, except for on Good Friday, when folks snagged every last drop of alcohol as if the American prohibition were coming to town. Their infectious worry forced his feet, and he snapped up sausages, canned tuna, peaches, and bread before making for the front of the shop to pay.
The queues stretched into the aisles—each at least two dozen customers long. He lined up in the nearest.
“Fuckin’ ridiculous.” A young man shuffled from foot to foot, sighing as a cashier beeped through items seven customers ahead.
Beep…beep…beep…
“Lads, I have feckin’ work ta get to.”
A middle-aged man turned, eyebrow arched. He cradled three loaves of bread and a box of nappies. “Well, aren’t you special, lad?” he spat. “We all have fuckin’ work to go to, ye plank.”
Great, Joseph thought. A little bit of rain and the whole country loses its mind.
The rain picked up then, smashing the roof in a deafening white nose as it hailed down the front glass. Customers gasped, and though Joseph remained silent, his heart did quicken.
“Is it really going to be that bad?” A woman spoke from behind, her eyes glistening. The man ahead replied, “Here, Met Éireann make everything a Code Red or Orange these days, remember the last so-call hurricane? Couple of garden chairs flew off, nothing the insurance companies would balk at. Might get some new garden furniture, that’s about it. It’ll be grand.”
Joseph prayed so, but as the deluge continued and the lights began to flicker, he doubted it.
It’ll be grand, he repeated. That lucky, old adage.
 
*****
 
“As the lady requested.”
Joseph slammed the car door, muting the torrential downpour as he grabbed Ellie’s schoolbag and stuffed it with goods. Plenty of canned food, in case the electricity went. Finished, he smiled and tossed the bag onto the backseat before wiping a palm across his face, water dripping from his nose. “It might be like camping indoors. Fancy camping. Roaring fire and cooking sausages, it’ll be a laugh.”
“What’s this cheery attitude about, Joe?”
Ellie’s use of his first name hurt--you’re my father. You were never my da, Joseph—but he ignored the comment and fished the key from his pocket. Her sour attitude had crescendoed with each day since he’d collected her, a backhanded comment here, a door slamming there. Oh, the joys of adolescence. “Just trying to be nice.”
He started the car, greeted by a grumble…
“A little too late, don’t you think?” Ellie pressed.
Oh, come on.
He turned the key again. Another sputter.
No.
“Nanny didn’t even call you her son.”
“Fuck!” Joseph slapped the wheel. He gritted his teeth as thunder boomed from fat clouds. “Ellie, seriously, can you just not? Not today, okay? I’m doing my best here.”
“You could’ve just let me go.”
He faced her then, glad for the rain’s camouflage as tears welled in his eyes. “Yeah? And where, where would I let you just go? Your Nana’s dead. That’s my mother you’re talking about. Don’t think I’m not sad, too. You really think I’d put you into foster care? Is that what you actually want?”
“She thought you would’ve.”
His chest tightened, the pain of her words reaching new heights. How could his little girl, the child he’d washed and changed and loved for seven years, spit such a vile attack?
Because your mother wormed bad thoughts into that little head of hers. Same old, same old. 
“Yeah, well…your Nana didn’t know me very well, now did she?”
“She took me when you didn’t want me. You don’t know me, either.”
“This isn’t helping.” He turned the key, sniffling as tears spilled down his face. Of course he wanted her, it’s all he ever wanted. An argument wouldn’t help matters. This time, the engine coughed to life. Thank Christ!
“I’m trying to know you, all right? Please, Ellie. Can you just give me that and meet me halfway? I’m happy we’re together again, even if you’re not. Let’s just try to bond.”
“I haven’t run off yet, have I?”
“Yeah. Thanks for that.”
As he eased from the parking space and flicked the lights, he illuminated couples racing beneath the sheeting rain with packed shopping carts. The wipers struggled to part the curtain of water, and Joseph leaned forward, squinting. “Jesus, it’s really starting now, isn’t it? Would you switch on the radio?”
Ellie did as instructed before tapping away on her phone and a lady’s voice cut the static: “… seawater flooded roads and gardens in Newtownsmith and Glasthule in the early hours, while gale-force winds continue to slam waves over sea barriers along the South Dublin coast and in Wicklow town. Engineers from the Water and Drainage department have joined the fire brigade and Coast Guard to assess the flood risks. Residents in Dun Laoghaire fear the worst when the tide comes in shortly after midnight tonight. Roads are closed in…”
“Should we be driving in this?” Ellie asked. “Says here people are advised to stay off the roads.” She tilted her phone and he glanced, not catching a word.
He eased into traffic and headed for the motorway. “Other people are out. Roads are still full.”
“Yeah, and if everyone jumped off a cliff, would you?”
He shook his head. That was one of Nana’s old one-liners. Truth was, he needed to drive through the downpour. Should the roads be closed come lunchtime, they had to be at the farmhouse. There was no other way.
“What are their names?” Ellie asked.
“Huh?”
“The farm people.” She said the word as if it tasted bitter.
“The MacNamaras. Douglas and Esther.”
“Have you met them yet?”
“Once. It’s how I got the job. After the interview, I spent the day with them. We cut grass with a scythe for fun. Ever hear of doing that? Some people do it as a sport in the countryside. A hobby.”
“Some people collect stamps. Not all hobbies are created equal.”
“Well I found it fun.” He gripped the wheel and eased off the accelerator as the traffic swelled. “They’re good people. Good enough to give me a job. Give us a chance. I used to live in the countryside, you know. Nana moved us into my uncle’s place until I was thirteen or fourteen, not much younger than you. I miss it. I promise you’ll like it.”
“I’m not cutting grass with a stupid scythe. Haven’t they heard of a lawn-mower? Can’t believe I’m going to be living on a farm.”
“It’s only temporary. I’ll find us a place of our own once I build up the money. Just the summer, I promise.”
“Why don’t you have money built up already? Other parents have that. Nana did.”
A car zipped by on the right, shooting a trail of water from its tires—moving too fast for the weather. The driver’s carelessness made Joseph’s knuckles whiten on the wheel—he would not flip because of other people’s incompetence.
“I asked you a question.”
“Huh?”
“Why don’t you have money?”
“Do you want to just call me a terrible father and be done with it? Just get it out, come on. Because I’m trying the best I can here, y’know that? I’ve found a job, I’ve got you here, and I’m going to get something together so we can start a life. Please, just meet me halfway.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I’m your father, whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t.”
Another verbal slap. Joseph took a deep, shaking breath. His brain refused to register her viciousness. In his mind, he still saw the six-year-old, curly-headed blonde kid curled at the foot of the couch with a smile on her face. And her blanky—a hand stitched blanket the size of a tea-towel she refused to let out of her sight. Did Ellie even remember blanky? Did she remember she used to like—no--love him? Eight years with her grandmother and she despised him. He understood to a degree, of course. But explaining his side of the story felt like breaking down a concrete barrier. He would, eventually.
“Why are you crying?”
“Nothing,” he said. “It’s nothing.”
Ahead, an angry red light illuminated the rain on the windshield. Brake lights bloomed to life on the cars ahead.
“Crash.” Joe shook his head and slowed to a crawl in line with the other vehicles. “Brilliant.”
Traffic veered left as they approached the flashing hazards. He and the other drivers gave the scene a wide berth, but all slowed to gawk at the bastard’s misfortune. Joseph couldn’t blame them. There was a morbid curiosity to these situations. Something primal. As they steered beyond the mess, glass twinkled on the soaked tarmac, and something dark and oil-like seeped from the overturned car. “Ellie, look away.”
He recognized the vehicle as the speeding gobshite from a kilometer back. Was it too much to ask for these idiots to take things easy? A little rain, that’s all it was. Was it really worth the risk?
Ellie leaned in her seat. “Is that blood?”
Joseph switched gears as they passed and the traffic quickened. His eyes flickered to the rearview repeatedly. “Yeah,” he said. “I think it was.”
As thunder boomed, Ellie fell silent. Her face paled as her young brain struggled with such horror. Though she didn’t speak, Joseph knew her thoughts. The deluge had claimed its first life. People should be more careful…
And as they took an exit an hour and a half later, the rain continued to fall and fall.
 
*****
 
“It’s the middle of nowhere.”
Ellie made the statement with distaste, but Joseph smiled. The middle of nowhere. No cramped flat in Ballymun with people stacked atop each other like rats; no discarded takeaway flung about the filthy roads; no thump-fucking-thump music at two in the morning while he loomed over a laptop searching for work, just…the middle of nowhere.
Wych Elms curled above the country road as they took a left, creating a light-blocking canopy. They’d passed a small town some kilometers back and gotten takeaway tea, but only fields surrounded them now. Fat drops smacked the roof as he put the lights on full despite the early hour, and the car rumbled as it crossed every pothole and stone. “Joe, could you not find something in the city? Work, I mean.”
“There’s no jobs going,” he said, concentrating on the road. “Trust me, I’ve looked. Every single day. I’m lucky to get this and I won’t stay on welfare and leech when I have an opportunity. It’s just one summer, okay? You get to play around a big open farm, use my laptop anytime you want. They have Wi-Fi, I already asked. And in three months, we get our own place somewhere nearby so I can travel to work and get you to school. And before we know it, I’ll have found something better back in Dublin. We can return to the city. That’s the plan.”
“Why didn’t Nana leave you anything?”
Ellie, as filtered as dirty oil.
“I…I don’t know.”
The thought hadn’t left his mind since the funeral, but for his sister’s sake, he’d never pressed matters. She had two kids—one with special needs—so the money was better off with her, anyway. Maybe Nana thought he’d find his own legs sooner or later, but either way: shoulda, coulda, woulda. If only Ellie understood the legal loopholes he leaped through like a circus animal to give her a roof overhead with Nana while he spent eight years attending useless (fucking useless!) interviews next to much more qualified—and much younger—potential employees. Some of which looked as if they’d yet to own a razor. Working odd jobs alongside bored-looking kids who spoke of bands whose names sounded like they were chosen by a blind man with a dictionary. Some jobs lasted a couple of years, some only a couple of months. He barely managed to keep a roof over his own head, never mind schoolbooks for Ellie, clothes and food, too. Jesus. But now he had the farm. A chance.
“Your mam always liked the countryside,” he said, breaking the tension. What he would give to have his little girl smile at him just once more. “Back in the day, she did.”
“Mam also liked to drink and sleep and eat microwave pizza.”
“Yeah, well, she wasn’t always like that.”
“It’s the only way I knew her.”
A shame, Joseph thought, a real feckin’ shame. In his mind, Sarah’s looks were forever frozen at 25, back when her smile made his stomach fizzle and she’d glowed with enough light to guide a lost ship. Before her looks were forever frozen at 32. Before she met Richard Kelly and took to gambling. Before she fucked the prick and left Joseph with a crying baby and too many bills and an empty bank account and a broken heart and a single note and…he breathed deeply.
“We’re almost there.”
He gave her a smile. Received a glare in return. Since their reunion, he’d watched countless new expressions contort her youthful face. More complex emotions than her childhood smiles, scowls, and wonder. Things like judgment, for one. Adult expressions.
Although his knuckles whitened on the wheel, he refused to stop trying to bond. Ellie probably had no idea of the pain her cold-heartedness caused. How each passive remark burned like hot oil. Her youth kept knowledge of those dark powers in ignorance. But she’d know one day. He assumed. There was always hope.
“I Googled that place we passed, by the way,” Ellie said, eying her phone.
“Huh?”
“The place back in Roundwood with all the sculptures. It’s called Victor’s Way. Mental looking statues, they are. One here called The Split Man, ever see it?”
“No, I haven’t.” Joseph knew an olive branch when he saw one. He snatched hold of the conversation. “Is it cool?”
“Pretty cool, yeah. Like something from a horror movie. Big hulking zombie-lookin’ things coming up out of oily water and stuff.”
“Want to go there one day soon?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Bullseye.
“Sweet,” she said. “Let me…great, phone’s going dead.”
“You can charge it at the MacNamara’s place, don’t worry.”
She shoved the device inside her pocket, folded her arms. “You look silly without a beard.”
“Eh? Where’d that come from?”
“Had to look at you. Phone’s dead.”
“Yeah, well I feel silly without a beard. Professional courtesy, though. Probably didn’t even have to do it. They’re farmers, not a company. I’ll grow it back.”
“Good.”
Sheep scurried about the open greenery around them, shaking their coats free of the never-ending rainwater. Ellie mouthed a swear each time the trees granted a glimpse of the flat outdoors and the looming mountains in the distance. No cinema, shopping centers or parks, but she’d have to make do. They both would, to make ends meet. No pub, Joseph thought. Fuck me, what can we do for a time-out?
“Is that it?” Ellie sat forward, squinting through the blurry curtain on the windshield as the white-painted MacNamara home loomed in the distance. The main house—a two-story bungalow—sat in the bosom of the rolling hills next to a large maroon barn straight from a picture-book. The barn contained an emergency road vehicle and stalls for three horses--Jasper, Lenny, and Buster, don’t forget their names, he thought. And around the property, a handful of cattle grazed miserably on the drenched greenery. Out back roamed five chickens, and Douglas—the farmer—planned on expanding operations come one month’s time. A lot of work for not much pay. Welcome back to the working world, son.
“I’m going to smell like a knacker,” Ellie huffed, falling back into her seat.
“Language.”
“It’s true. Fuckin’ cow shit everywhere. We’re going to be stinking.”
He chuckled. “Stinking and with food in our bellies and a roof over our heads. We can smell like mutants from a rat-infested sewer for all I care.”
Seriously, sometimes Joseph wondered where teenagers thought money came from. Though he supposed she had a right to be ungrateful and selfish at that age—it was a teenager’s job, after all. He just wished she’d realize the power her off-hand comments had on him.
“Is that one of the MacNamaras?” Ellie asked.
“Where?”
A young man stood in the center of the road and Joseph slammed the brakes just in time. Ellie threw her palms against the dash as the tires squealed. Through the watery windshield, Joseph squinted as the man hobbled to the driver’s side. Joseph rolled the window down.
“I—I didn’t see you there, are you okay?”
“Sorry,” the young man said. British accent. “Storm has me all over the place, didn’t hear the car.”
“Wind’s picking up, all right. Need a lift someplace?”
Ellie slapped his arm. Joseph ignored her.
“Nah, just living up the road,” he said. “Sorry to have frightened you. Go on, get out of the storm before it really kicks off, yeah?”
“You, too. Stay safe. Sure I can’t offer you a lift?”
“It’s all fine. Thanks. Seriously, I’m just up the road. Shouldn’t be out in this. Thanks, though.”
As he rolled up the window, Joseph shivered. “Weird, huh?”
“And you were going to invite him into the car. Yeah, weird.”
“Okay, okay.”
Joseph eased the Ford forward, scanning the out-of-focus greens and browns of the potholed lane. He didn’t see the woman at first, then, through the deluge, frantic arm-waving caught his attention. She stood to the left of the road, a woman in a red raincoat.
“Hold on.”
Joseph eased the car down a gear and came to a stop a few feet short in a ditch. A funnel of brown water raced alongside the tires, just as wide as the road itself—a current Joseph didn’t recall the last time he’d been here. The woman jogged over.
She rapped the passenger door and Ellie rolled the window, the white noise of rain growing.
“Joe? Are you serious?”
Water slopped from the plastic of her hood, framing her frightened features.
“What?”
“I said, ‘are you serious?’ I’ve been trying to call you all morning.”
Her raspy voice--a twenty-a-day-woman, he recalled—bubbled with fear. Joseph slipped his phone from his pocket and illuminated the screen.
“No coverage down here?” he said. “And Ellie’s phone is just dead, sorry.”
“Of course there’s no coverage. Have you not been listening to the radio at all? And this child in the car with you, Jesus.”
What was this? Beat Joseph’s self-esteem day? He laughed humorlessly as he shook his head. “Excuse me, Esther?”
“Is your radio not working or something?”
“Cutting in and out since Carnew, we usually listen to a rock station from the city but—”
“It’s been upped to red.”
“What’s been upped to red?”
Esther MacNamara scrunched her wrinkled face, exaggerating her already yawning lines. “There’s a hurricane hitting the West coast, Joe.”
He heard the words, yes, but logic refused them entry to his brain like a picky bouncer.
A hurricane?
“Like Ophelia?” he asked. He recalled the ‘hurricane’ days of Ophelia, back when attention-seeking gobshites swam in the sea and wasted responders’ time for a brief mention on the news. Joseph (along with many other Irish people at the time) wished those chancers had been swept out to the Atlantic and eaten by whales. Still, a hurricane in Ireland wasn’t comparable to one in the United States. Memes and jokes had spread like herpes across the Internet, even as the so-called hurricane tore up the coastline. Leave it to the Irish to quip while death beat the door down.
“Radio’s been cutting out at the house,” Esther said, “And we’ve got a good antenna. Met Éireann have issued driving warnings for the past forty-five minutes, the Shannon bust her banks fifteen minutes ago, worst it’s ever been. I’ve been standing here for ages waiting to see if you’d still come.”
The woman’s panic mirrored plenty of news-junkies during Ophelia, but the whole ordeal had passed without incident—as expected. Not worth standing at the roadside for god-knows-how-long, waving like a--
“Joseph, this is serious. You can’t drive back now, not—”
“Wait.” He raised his palms, keeping calm. “I don’t intend on driving back? I’ve been driving for hours just to get here, like we agreed. I still have a job, don’t I?”
Seriously—if he’d driven all this way for nothing when a phone-call could’ve sufficed, he’d find the nearest bar and--
“A job? You’re still thinking about work when your life could be at stake?”
Every hour of every day…spent glaring at listings on a laptop screen…his stomach cramping from an empty fridge...Joseph gritted his teeth and thought: lady, not having a job is putting my life at stake. Not a rainy few fucking days.
Esther shook her head, dislodging rainwater from her hood. “Pull up at the door, go on. Get inside now before it gets bad. You’re stuck here.”
“Get in, I’ll drive you up.”
She cocked her thumb. “Have to check the neighbors, Joe. Kathy, she’s elderly, in a wheelchair. Don’t trust the caretaker who’s with her. He’d use her as an umbrella if he could. Look, go on, Douglas is up there now. He’ll let you in. And…hi, Ellie. Your father told me about you. Sorry this is how we’re meeting.”
“Hi to you, too.”
“Go on with ye’s. I’ll see ye up there.”
Joseph nodded and shifted the car as Ellie rolled up her window, shushing the roaring rain as the first roll of thunder boomed overhead. She extended her arm and clicked her tongue. “I’m soaked already, wouldya look. This is ridiculous.”
“It is,” he said. At least they agreed on something.
He pulled away from the ditch, tires spitting brackish water. He watched in the rearview while Esther cowered and raced down the country lane to check on her friend.
“I hate the flippin’ countryside.” Ellie sighed as they made their way through the open gate and up the small incline to the farmhouse. Pines circled the property as if keeping the home a secret from the vast expanse of fields stretching to the foothills. Atop the mountains, a low fog circled like a ring of Saturn, seeping down its slopes to the treetops. And through it, Joseph spied the grey walls of the reservoir like a castle on the hillside. An electrical generator for most of the county. He recalled Esther answering his questions about the place as if it were Mordor. An imposing grey edifice the old woman loathed.
“Where are the neighbors?” Ellie asked.
While they only passed a single house on the drive in—and not a building or business for some kilometers—Joseph spied a rooftop some distance further down the lane. He nodded to it. “Down there, I’m guessing. The British fella.” Another old structure stood opposite the MacNamaras’ property, a house in disrepair.
“That’s ages away, what’s with people out here and their privacy?”
Joseph tried for a comeback but decided against it. Not a time to debate the pros and cons of solitude against the bustling streets of Dublin. Besides, the more pressure he could ease from between him and his daughter, the better. It’s been upped to red, he thought, just as another whack of thunder came. It was followed by a flare of lightning as Ellie stiffened in her seat.
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “I don’t like this, can we go back?”
“It’s thunder and lightning in Dublin, too, Ellie. We can’t.” He killed the engine and pulled the key. Rain smashed the bonnet and the roof as steam curled from chrome. “Besides, it’s too dangerous now. Roads are closed. And you saw the accident. Just have to wait it out down here at best, you heard what Esther said. Look, it’s a tropical storm, nothing we haven’t seen before. Remember Ophelia? Lasted a day, two at the most. Just have to hunker down for a bit. The old woman’s just panicked, listening to the news will do that to you. It’s the talking heads’ job.”
After saying it aloud, Joseph’s worry ebbed. The hurricane--it’s a tropical storm, man—would subside, and by nightfall, he, Ellie, and the MacNamaras would lay about the living-room by a roaring fire, drinking cocoa and chuckling over the whole ordeal. He’d awaken at six the next morning while Ellie slept, join Douglas MacNamara on a drive to the cattle auction and bid on some new critters for the farm. Hunky-dory, kid. Hell, Ellie might even start to like him.
“Come on,” he said, “Let’s get our stuff inside.”
As he popped the door and sank his boot into the glistening mud—the surface of which quivered and slid from the deluge—razor-sharp drops smacked his face. He grimaced as a harsh wind flattened his shirt to his chest and whipped his hair. “Fuck. Knock the door, will you? I’ll grab our things.”
“I can help.”
“No, Ellie.”
The teen’s face dropped. He hadn’t meant to yell, just…she couldn’t see the contents of the boot. No one could. Just…no.
She offers another olive branch and you snap it. Good job, you gobshite.
“Sorry,” he tried. “I’m just tired. And a little scared, too. Could you grab your school bag and knock the door, please?”
Miraculously, Ellie let the outburst go. She squealed as she stepped from the car and covered her face. Bolted for the porch, she hopped puddles and dodged stones. Joseph took a slow, calculated breath before popping the boot and swiping their suitcases. He spared not a glance to the other items there. His suitcase contained basic toiletries and enough clothes for a week, while Ellie’s had much the same but the added weight of some game system. The sapphire glint of a dress caught his eye before he slammed the boot closed. He would not think about that now.
“Joe, will you come on!” Ellie called. She knocked the red-painted door with both palms, bag swinging on her back. After Joseph hoisted the luggage bags, he shuffled like a gorilla to his daughter’s side.
“Hello?” Ellie yelled. “It’s freezing out here, is there anybody—”
A strong gust whooshed through the yard and sliced the rest of her sentence. Joseph dug his heels into the mud, bracing. When the wind passed, a sound came muted through the door—a frantic chattering. Ellie threw Joseph a look just as the door opened, and there stood Douglas MacNamara, a radio pressed to his leg, and his face a mask of shock.
“What are you doing here?”
Douglas wore a faded, open duffle coat, with a tweed blazer, white shirt, and purple tie beneath. Green jeans completed his ensemble, his scrawny frame bulked by the odd clothing. Strands of hay peppered his black beanie hat, and the stench of farm animal hung strong. As his ashen face worked them both over, Joseph shook rain from his hair. “We were trying to call you all morning,” Douglas said. “Not to come, you shouldn’t be here.”
“No reception,” Joseph explained. He shook the luggage in hopes the man would take the hint--will you just let us inside?—and stalked forward. “I think I’ll have to change networks once we get settled.”
Douglas moved aside and Ellie barged inside the hallway, shivering. Joseph followed suit. Despite the old man’s fashion sense, Ellie said not a word. As a child, she’d pointed to punks and skangers alike, asking Joseph and her mom, ‘what’s wrong with him?’ Oh, how times changed. The house smelled of coffee and baked bread, comforting scents that dislodged some of Joseph’s dark mood. He left the luggage by the door and flexed his hands, his fingers already numb. Douglas scanned the yard before closing the door as a harsh wind screamed around the structure and rattled the windows.
“It’s really hitting now,” he said, speaking more to himself. His faraway eyes lifted to the ceiling. “Did Esther stop you?”
“We saw her,” Joseph said. He blew heat into his sore palms. “She’s gone to see your neighbor.”
Douglas placed the small radio onto the welcome mat and rolled back the volume, hushing panicked DJs as they warned of crashes and closed roads. “That’s Jenkins she’s gone to see, aye. Kathy.” Joseph noted the man’s Scottish accent blooming. “Old woman is in a wheeler, canny walk. Think Esther will put her out of harm’s way and get back. I’d go myself, but…If I get blown over out there, I’m not getting back up. Esther’s always been the go-getter, anyway.” He nodded to Ellie. “Upstairs, bathroom’s the first door straight ahead. Grab yourself and your Da a towel and dry off, aye, meet us in the kitchen.”
Ellie took the stairs with a jog, and as Douglas turned to Joseph, his demeanor switched.
“You should not be here,” he hissed. “Didn’t ye pay any attention to the radio, lad?”
Joseph shook his head. “It’s a tropical storm, it’s gonna pass? Not like we have another choice now, anyway. Douglas, I need this job. I…I just need it. Look, I can help with securing anything that needs tying down and we can—”
“The reservoir won’t hold, lad.”
“What are you talking about?”
“About a kilometer up, you have to have seen it on the mountainside. Esther said she told ya last time. That place provides power to Wexford and South Wicklow for years, but Tony Fenton built the thing about as well as a child’s toy…skimped every bloody corner he could.”
“Wait, who’s Tony Fenton, now?” The information was too much considering the circumstances. Joseph just wanted the storm cleared, his head, too. A headache thrummed in his temples.
“Local TD. In the pockets of his party, used to live across the way a few years back. Place is run down now, a mess. Useless, he is.”
“Which party is he apart of?”
“Does it fuckin’ matter, aye? We’ve been petitioning that reservoir for years, when Ophelia hit, two of my back fields and the Rourke’s place flooded like a sprung tap went pop. A stronger storm and the whole south wall would blow out. We told them, aye, even wrote to the Dáil. Wrote to every TD within the county, but who gives a fuck about a few farmhouses in the middle of nowhere. No one, that’s who. That reservoir is coming down today, Joe, I can feel it. It was only a matter of time.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Joseph brought a hand to his head as the soft pulse morphed to a painful throb. “You’re saying a local reservoir could break at any minute, and, what, flood us out of it?”
Douglas’s face drooped, his eyes narrow. “That’s exactly what I’m sayin’. Aye. You shouldn’t be here. We tried for months to bring attention here after Ophelia. Canny get one politician to listen to us.”
Joseph blew a soft chuckle, needing to defuse some tension. A proper flood? Like New Orleans after Katrina? Not in Ireland. Never. “Look,” he said. “I know you’re scared, but no one would build a dodgy reservoir, Douglas, it wouldn’t be allowed. Contractors would be monitored and standards would be maintained, it’s not going to just collapse.”
“You don’t know Tony Fenton then. Half that budget was in his back pocket faster than a bullet. Papers can say one thing, cash-in-hand labor can do another. That thing is coming down today. Believe you me, lad.”
“I can’t,” Joseph said, his brow knitting by its own accord. “This—this is ridiculous. I’ve got my daughter here, I’m starting a new job.”
Was he saying that to placate himself, or to convince Douglas? Whatever the reason, the old man’s stone-set face didn’t budge. “Can’t change it now. It’s done.”
“I need her to like me, I need this to work out. She’s all I got left, I just got her back. Please. Don’t scare the life out of me if you don’t know what you’re saying to be true. I need this.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Douglas said. “That fuckin’ TD doomed us all. You’re not getting out of here, Joseph. None of us are. Whether you believe me or not. And I’m sorry about your girl.”
Ellie bound down the stairs then, a towel draped over her shoulders and another in-hand. Joseph accepted her offering with a forced smile, the strength in his arm dissipating as the towel flopped by his side. His vision blurred and doubled.
Ellie let out a nervous laugh. “What’s the matter?”
No words came.
His daughter cocked her head. “Hey, I didn’t mean to be so cranky earlier, okay? I know I took it too far. I was tired. Still am, but—”
The front door burst open and a curtain of rain followed Esther inside. The old woman stomped her rubber boots on the welcome mat and slammed the door before whipping down her hood. She looked them over. Her chin quivered as she sniffled.
“That’s Kathy taken care of,” she said to Douglas. “Did you tell them?”
A dream, Joseph thought. It’s a bad dream. Nothing else.
“I did,” Douglas said, and straightened his strange purple tie.
“Tell them?” Ellie said. “Tell who what?”
Joseph concentrated on the old man’s colorful tie, letting the world slip away. As long as he looked there, he could pretend none of this was real. Every precious second was worth it…His daughter had apologized. He hadn’t heard those words since she knocked his favorite mug over, back when…
A low rumble vibrated the floor. Everyone braced and Ellie leaped to his side. A pot clattered in the kitchen.
Boooooom…
Ellie screamed. “What the hell was that?”
Booooooommm…
“Here we go,” Douglas said. “May God have mercy on us all.”
“Da,” Ellie cried, “Da, I’m scared!”
Da… she called me Da.
Boooooomm…
CHAPTER TWO
 
 
Cutlery crashed from the kitchen as the rumble intensified to the power of an unhinged machine. The floor vibrated, cups and pans dancing from countertops before smashing the hardwood. And all the while, Joseph’s mind danced to someplace far away: shopping for cereal as a sleepy teenager gave him the finger from the protective warmth of his battered Ford. Just hours ago. But as Ellie’s nails dug into his forearm, her scream dragged reality home, and the world exploded into a solid nightmare.
“Upstairs,” Esther yelled. “Move.”
The old woman grabbed hold of her husband’s arm and yanked him to the steps while Joseph took Ellie’s hand, shaking the cobwebs from his mind. He raced ahead. They took the stairs in three clean leaps as paintings toppled and shattered on the carpet and something popped from within the walls. A fist of fear gripped Joseph’s guts.
“First room on the left,” Esther yelled, just as something shattered downstairs.
They reached the second floor and Joseph darted through the hallway, dragging Ellie as he elbowed open the door. In the pristine bedroom before him, a well-made bed rumbled like a living creature. “Wha—what do we do?” he asked.
Esther and Douglas barged in, the old woman holding the man upright. He nervously teased his purple tie. “The window, you fool.”
“What?”
Thunder boomed overhead, followed by a streak of lightning that momentarily whited out Joseph’s vision. He blinked, clearing blindspots.
“We have to get on the roof,” Esther said. “Please, Joseph, just move.” Then, almost as an afterthought, added, “You shouldn’t be here, you silly fool.”
Joseph raced for the window—an old-style pull-up with two dead flies quivering on the sill. He grabbed hold of the white frame and yanked, muscles straining. “It’s stuck.”
“Oh, for the love of God, just keep trying!”
He gritted his teeth and braced his legs, forcing upward as his arms shook and--the window shot up. Icy rainwater slapped his face as harsh winds whipped his hair.
“Outside,” Esther called, “Out onto the sill and grab the gutter. Pull yourself onto the roof.”
“What?”
“Joseph, now. We’re running out of time.”
On the farm, a cow mooed, the mournful sound raising the peach-fuzz on the back of his neck. Were the animals running, seeking shelter? Or had the succumbed to their fate?
“Da,” Ellie cried. “Da, we can’t, please, we need to—”
“Ellie, come on, now. Be brave. Can you do that?”
Another boom of thunder replied.
“Come on. For me…”
Memories of saying those very words as he directed baby food into her mouth bombarded his brain. Her mother laughing as Ellie spat up the apple-flavored slop. A distant dream.
“That’s it.”
His hands trembled as he helped her remove her schoolbag and placed her onto the ledge where she hunkered, breathing fast. Then her left hand flew back inside and snatched his shirt, balling it in a fist. A harsh and involuntary sound ripped from her throat as her eyes bugged. “It’s so far down, Joe. Oh, Jesus.”
“You can do this.”
“Da…”
She’s calling me Da, he thought bizarrely, before shaking his head and cementing his concentration. “Come on now. Look up. Look up, don’t look down. Do you—” His mouth dried and he swallowed, tried again, “—do you see the gutter?”
She craned her neck, blonde locks blowing each way in the wind. “It’s there,” she said. “I’ll have to stand to reach it, though.”
“Then do that. I’ll hold you in place, okay? I’ve got you, Ellie. I’ve got you. Just do this for me.”
As something crashed to the tiles in the bathroom, Ellie took a deep breath and let loose her death-grip on his shirt. She pushed upright. Joseph instantly steadied her by the hips, ready to pull her inside if a bad wind were to come and--
“Ah!”
She screamed as the gust punched her sideways. Joseph’s chest tightened as her weight dropped and he braced her. Her soaked-through clothes slickened his palms as unstoppable shakes scurried up his arms. “S’all right, Ellie. S’all right. We don’t have much time, okay? You need to stand back up.”
“Joseph,” Esther called, “If we don’t get out right now, we’re not—”
“Shut the hell up.” Rage heated Joseph’s face. He threw the elderly couple a fiery glare before returning his attention to his girl. His girl. She could do this. She could. “Come on, now. That’s it.”
With a mewling cry, Ellie got upright using the frame for balance. Her left heel slipped halfway off the frame and Joseph’s jaw tightened at the implication. “Careful now,” he warned. “Steady.”
She reached out of sight, on her tip-toes now. “I’ve got it,” she said. “Gutter’s here, it’s here.”
“Good. That’s good. Okay, hold on.”
He reached for her foot and Ellie balked, kicking out on instinct.
“It’s all right, Ellie. I’m gonna give you a boost now, okay? Just hold on.”
This time, she worked her wet sole into his palm and Joseph gripped her ankle. “Okay, when I count to three, I’m going to push you up, and you’re to work your way onto the roof, you hear me?”
“Okay.”
“Okay, here we go. One…two…”
He shoved and she screamed. He all-too-easily imagined her weight vanishing from his hands as she toppled backward, plummeting two floors below where she’d crack her fragile head and--
“I’ve got it!”
Her weight did disappear, but—to Joseph’s relief—her legs went up and out of sight. The satisfaction was short-lived when he caught sight of the dismal sprawling of fields, the terrified animals racing in packs, the flocks of birds fighting the unforgiving winds and the--
“Oh please, God, no.”
—Monstrous wave barreling across the terrain, destroying everything like an angry toddler. A thicket of trees vanished, devoured by the foaming beast; next came a faraway home, the roof exploding and the sound like nothing but matchsticks from the distance. And those little dots? Those were cows and horses, gone in an instant.
“Joseph, will you just fucking move!”
Esther’s plea snapped his paralysis. He sucked a breath before shoving himself out onto the sill. His skin prickled with the cold. Wasting no time, he spun, holding the slick frame for balance before standing upright. With just the slightest tilt backward, he knew he’d slip, and the vibration through the home’s core didn’t help matters. But, as his eyes found Ellie, soaked-through and clutching the chimney, he steeled his nerves and gripped the gritty shingles as ice-water raced across his knuckles and dribbled across the gutter. With another silent count of three, he hoisted himself up.
Joseph’s stomach plunged as his feet left the ledge. He cursed himself for not staying in better shape as he scrunched his face and forced his bodyweight up, up, up, arms straining as he teased his threshold. Cold rain smashed his face. Brittle roof tiles stung his palms. With a yell, he reached forward and dragged himself upon the roof with the rough shingles scraping his stomach. He rolled over and panted, one arm across his slamming chest as water sponged through his clothes.
“Da, look.”
Joseph pushed to his hands and knees as he followed his daughter’s gaze. A wrinkled hand snatched at the roof across the gutter.
“Help her!”
“Grab my arm,” he shouted, and gripped Esther’s wrist as her calloused palm worked around his own. Forgoing apologies—and with the murky wave almost upon the farm—Joseph yanked the woman from the sill. She screamed as he got her to the roof before turning his attention to the old man. Crashes and crackles reached his ears as the wave slammed through the fields, and he peered across the gutter.
Seconds. We’ve got seconds. Where the fuck are you?
“Douglas?” he yelled, fingers biting into the gutter.
The old man finally appeared. His eyes glistened in their sockets, colorful tie swaying in the breeze. Joseph had the bizarre thought: I wonder if his coffee is still on the kitchen table? before he reached down, palms spread.
“Grab on!” he yelled, and Doug nodded before gingerly climbing out onto the ledge. A book? The old man clutched a paperback to his chest. Did he honestly stop to swipe a book before getting out?
And that’s all it took.
One second-guess.
A slip-up.
As Douglas opened his mouth to claim, “I’ve always been terrified of heights,” Joseph leaped back as the leviathan flood ripped past the home and swallowed the old man whole. The entire farmhouse bucked as murky blackwater barreled by, the white-noise a deafening cacophony. Waves splashed him and Joseph gripped the shingles and screamed as he swayed and fought to keep grip.
It’s going to collapse, he thought. Whole house is going to come down!
“Hold on, Ellie, just hold on.” He had no way of knowing if his daughter heard, didn’t chance turning in case he lost footing.
The waves, like a living beast, swallowed everything to the sound of Hell on Earth. A horse rose momentarily before being sucked beneath. A refrigerator collided with the house, snapping chunks of brick free. But as the seconds passed—seconds that felt more like elasticated minutes—and ice-water crashed and spat on him, his death-grip on the roof loosened. He shimmied from the gutter, further up the slanted roof, to Ellie and the old woman. He embraced his daughter and she returned the gesture. The structure seemed to be holding. For now.
“Where is he?” Esther cried in a tired voice. “Where is my Douglas?”
Then they saw him, just a flash of purple, like a minnow beneath the quivering waves, as he was swept from the sill. The power of the flood dragged him as easily as a child’s toy and his hand broke the surface for a nanosecond before he was slammed against the crown of a sycamore in the yard. Esther cried with relief when his head burst from the roaring waves amongst the leaves and he gasped air deep into his lungs.
“Esther!” he screamed, a tiny ant of a sound in the white noise. “I’m here, Esther!”
She bolted to her feet, face strained as she gripped her raincoat around her neck. “Joseph, do something! He can’t hold on!”
Dirty waves crashed across the old man’s face as he screamed a pitiful sound; mewling.
“The waves have to lose energy soon,” Joseph tried. “It has to rest. If he can just hold on, Esther…it—it has to stop.”
Please, God, it has to stop.
“Go out there!” she yelled.
Ellie pushed from Joseph’s arms, snarled at the old woman. “Hey! He’s not risking his life, you stupid woman, do you hear me?”
“And I can’t swim,” Joseph admitted, his face flushing. “He just has to hold on.”
The flood continued its assault as the water levels rose, now tickling the underside of the gutter—almost to the rooftop itself. Joseph muttered a silent prayer of gratitude, for it had lost enough power not to demolish the farmhouse. As for Douglas, he could only hope. The snippets of animal sounds as the creatures broke the surface for the briefest moment was the stuff of nightmares.
“I’ll be okay,” Douglas screamed, and the sound of his voice made Joseph’s eyes snap open—he hadn’t realized he’d been squeezing them shut. The old man forced a smile, one as visible as his tie. “I’ve got a grip here.”
And then came the crack.
The baritone sound was like over-sized celery—and the power lines by the barn slumped. Joseph opened his mouth to yell just as sparks spat from snapped cords, spitting into the air like blood from a severed artery. Then the whipping live-wire followed the pole into the drink: a pissed off snake that popped as it kissed the waves. And Douglas yelped.
Just a yelp. That was all.
He vanished as fast as a magic act the second his fingers left the tree.
“Douglas!”
Joseph grabbed the old woman as panic overrode her senses and she stalked for the edge of the roof. She bucked and twisted but he held on. Eventually, her energy deflated like a popped tire.
“Wha—what happened?”
“Wires,” Joseph said, releasing his grip. “Electricity, just…”
“No.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She fell to her knees as her shoulders hitched, and a sound blew from her lips that made Joseph cringe. He’d made the very same cry when he’d lost Ellie’s mother.
As the water continued gushing by the roof, he stumbled back to his daughter and fell beside her, wrapping his arms around her shaking form. She returned the embrace, no longer the loud-mouthed teen who demanded cereal. Now she just wanted comfort. The same as him.
As he stroked her hair, the memory of her vicious words dissolved as easily as a cheap painkiller. The flood had washed away her attitude and left him with the child he remembered.
“You’re okay,” he said, not a question, speaking into the wet hair plastered to her shoulder. “You’re okay.”
“You, too,” she said, and he distinguished her tears from rain by heat alone.
As the roar of the flood continued to fill not only the fields of Wicklow, but also Joseph’s head, Esther’s screaming matched its power.
 And they cried.
It’s all they could do.
 
*****
 
It took two hours for the waters to calm. Two hours of trees snapping and flotsam whipping beneath the surface of the flood. On occasion, Joseph made out objects: bottles dislodged from the farmhouse itself or other nearby homes; a small bed frame; a fridge; TVs; cabinets; and, on occasion: bodies. They only lasted a second before the water pulled them past the gutter, but that’s what they were. Bodies. Some even smacked the house.
The pregnant grey clouds coating the sky permitted flashes of sheet lightning every now and then, a momentary illumination as if for a sick god’s pleasurable viewing. But, through it all, the water never rose beyond the gutter. The dirty liquid slapped and sprayed onto the tiles, but never swallowed them.
“We’re in a bowl valley,” Esther finally spoke, startling Joseph. On his shoulder, Ellie muttered in her sleep. Adrenaline took her out not long after she’d settled.
“Sorry?”
“A bowl.” Esther climbed to her feet, her voice a dead monotone. Joseph had been waiting for her to open up, not knowing what possible thoughts flew through her bruised mind beyond her dead husband. “The glen dips down to us, but here at the bottom? This water’s trapped.”
“You don’t think it’s going away?”
“I know it’s not. We’ve lived here since I was in my thirties. Do you have any idea how many times we petitioned the local council over that fecking reservoir? We told them this would happen.” In her eyes burned hatred, her fiery stare honing in on him. And Joseph said not a word.
“We went to meeting after fecking meeting in every town we could, not a single TD listened to us. Didn’t want to hear about it.”
“How could they do that? Knowing the danger you were in?” Joseph expected asking questions was akin to poking a bear right now, but he couldn’t allow the matter to drop. How could they?
“Fucking Tony Fenton,” she spat. “Local politician.”
“Your husband mentioned him,” he said.
Esther flinched. “Used to live on the property across the way. Places here are much cheaper than in Dublin, you know that. The Glendubh lake sits up the valley there.” She pointed. “At the top. They installed the reservoir on a dip further down for turbines. Electricity. Fuckin’…electricity…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Just stop.” Her lips quivered as the plum-hue around her eyes seemed to darken. “Stop apologizing. It’s that bastard Tony Fenton’s fault. He knew the danger he was putting us all in the moment he submitted the proposal to the council.”
“Why didn’t they listen to your pleas? The council? It’s their job to listen.”
“Who fucking cares?” she said, slapping her arms down as devastation marred her face. “Joe, a handful of culchies at the bottom of a valley who might get in trouble, while they have a license to print money? Of course they built it. We can be fucked. That’s what they think. And here we are, fucked.”
Joseph eyed Ellie on his shoulder, making sure she was still sleeping. She’d heard every bad word in the book—Jesus, what Irish kid hadn’t?—but he didn’t want her hearing this. She’d been through enough. Enough for a lifetime.
“And d’ya know why they didn’t give him the time of day?” She pointed to the sycamore, as if Douglas remained there. “Because he liked to wear what he wore. Because he looked funny to them. So him showing up with his bright blue bowler and his red tie and his…”
Her words dissolved into tears as she smacked a palm to her face. Joseph let the moment pass, chewing his inner lip.
“They didn’t listen because they were ignorant. Stupid, stupid feckers, one and all. And when Ophelia happened, we saw that reservoir spilling. It flooded the low fields at the mountain over there, the Rourke’s property way back, and we went bull-headed to the council with photographs of the land. Mushed the grounds up to absolute slop. And they still didn’t care. Just said they’d have inspectors out to ‘assess the situation’. I doubt they even bothered filing our concerns. They’d look like gobshites if they did. Investigations would be filed. These mountains were a money-machine for Fenton, and fuck the ‘Hobbits’ who lived at the bottom. The Rourkes…” She blew a breath as if the mere name tasted rank. “They sold the acres before Fenton even finished asking. Short-term solution, that’s all they cared about. Money now, fuck the consequences. Their grandparents owned the two last fields out there, and a fair portion of the highlands. They weren’t going to do jackshit with it, anyway. Can’t work a day between them to save their lives. They took the fucking money. And doomed us all.”
“How many people live here?” Joseph asked, watching the murky waters spreading as far as the eye could see. A dead horse drifted along the current, skeletal remains bobbing on the surface.
“Us,” Esther said. “Kathy down the road with her no-good caretaker. That’s who I was off to see this morning. There’s a British fella in the cottage up the road, and then out at the foot of the mountains is the Rourkes. Two of them left, brothers. Both as dumb as the other. Fenton’s property across the way is deserted. He keeps it for a weekend getaway these days. More money than sense. Was his childhood home, if you can believe it. That’s how little he cares about where he came from. Though he’ll toot the ‘my roots’ horn anytime the papers ask.”
Joseph’s brow creased. He made sure Ellie hadn’t woken before whispering, “But I saw…bodies in the water. About six, at least…”
“Workers,” Esther replied, matching his low tone. “Yellow jackets? Probably sent out to the reservoir when the storm hit last night. Heard trucks barreling up the lane at odd hours.”
Joseph recalled the bodies, they hadn’t worn jackets, but, then again, after being slapped about beneath the churning waters for so long, he doubted much of anything would be recognizable now.
Jesus…
He sighed. “Still, that’s a fair number of people out here. Fourteen, at least. They’ll have to send rescue soon?”
“You really weren’t listening to the news, were you?” Esther released a humorless laugh. “Joe, the whole country is in Code Red. Saw footage of Dundrum shopping center at seven, people trapped in the lower floors, at least fifty there alone. Can you imagine what the City Centre is like? Galway, Limerick? Belfast? Whole of the west coast? It’s chaos. Resources will be concentrated to the big places. The Liffey broke her banks just before I went to check on Kathy. The Shannon is running over places it’s never been before, helicopters and all sorts concentrated out there. Last I heard there were rumors one even crashed. A few hillbillies at the bottom of a valley in Wicklow are the least of the Government’s concern right now.”
“Help’s coming,” Joseph said, and worked his arm around his daughter. Tighter than intended. “Help is coming, you know that.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Joseph released his grip on Ellie. He removed his shirt before balling it beneath her head and laying her down. The slant of the roof sent a quiver through his gut but it was just enough not to slide. As for the sheeting rain, there wasn’t much he could do. They’d catch pneumonia if what Esther said was fact.
It’s not. It can’t be. Help is coming. Of course it is.
He stood, fished his phone from his pocket. Droplets soaked the screen and he wiped it on his jeans before unlocking the keypad.
“Best of luck with that,” Esther said.
He ignored the old woman’s tease and dialed three digits. Hit call. After a beat, an automated voice told him the lines were busy. He disconnected, tried again. Disconnected, tried again.
“I’ve only got twelve-percent battery left. We were going to charge our phones when we got here.”
Disconnected, tried again.
“Save it. Lines are more clogged than Fenton’s drainpipes.”
Joseph pocketed the phone. “Listen, I can’t even imagine what’s going through your head right now. I won’t claim to, either, but we have to stay positive. There’s still three of us here, and I won’t let anything bad happen to my Ellie. Or you for that matter, okay? Help’s coming.”
“Prayers and hopes are free, Joe,” she said. “Have as many as you like.”
His nails bit into his palms. Hot anger coursed through his body. After counting to ten, he said, “I will.”
She nodded without a word and stared at the shattered electrical pole, now caught in the tree and bobbing as if waving hello. Her husband’s killer just sticking around. “It’s slowing down,” she said in a tired voice. “The current. See? It’s not going anywhere. Water’s trapped. And with the entire country in a panic, mark my words, we are not the priority.”
“Just stop saying that.”
Joseph recalled the last tropical storm, the property damages due to high winds, the accidental deaths of careless helpfuls, and the goddamn eejits swimming at Dun Laoighaire peer, wasting the Gardai’s time. He himself had been without electricity for days, but the country had never seen a catastrophe like this. Maybe Esther was right. Maybe help wouldn’t come.
She’s not right. Can’t be right.
He looked about the roof, at the flat gray waters in all direction, spying no shelter. “Listen, we’re going to have to get out of the rain. Even if rescue takes a day, we’re going to catch our death out here.” The harsh word was unintended--death—but formality was not his concern. “Are you hearing me, Esther?”
“Be my guest,” she said. “Find a way to get us sheltered then.”
And Ellie screamed.
She screamed so loud that Joseph cringed and froze. He ran to her as she bolted upright, eyes wild.
“What’s the matter? You okay?”
She yelled again, throat raw. Her bulging eyes stared beyond Joseph’s shoulder and he followed her line of sight—nothing—before giving her his full attention. “Ellie, I’m here. I’m here.”
Her next words drew razor-blades up his spine: “In the water,” she said. “There’s something in the water.”
Goosebumps worked their way up Joseph’s arms.
“Hey, hey. It’s all right.” He gripped her shoulder, making slow circles. “I know. I’ve seen them, too.”
He recalled the rag-doll bodies, crashing against whatever the current demanded; toys to the water’s will.
“Them?” she cried, eyes locked with his now. “Them, Da?”
“The—the bodies, sweetie, I saw them, too.”
“No.” She worked free of his hand, slammed herself against the chimney, chest pumping. “No, it’s—it’s a thing! It came up twice, I swear, it was white!”
“The horse? Skeletons dislodged by the waters, dead animals, they’re probably all over the farms here. It’s nothing to worry about.”
Esther folded her arms before clearing her throat. “She’s traumatized, Joseph. Can’t you see that?”
“I can damn well fucking see that, Esther, can you help or something?”
“It wasn’t dead.” Ellie was up now, hands never leaving the chimney. “There’s something out there, Joe, I swear I’m not lying.” Her words garbled together, an overlapping and overexcited succession. “It was a thing, not a body, something alive, Joe. It swam against the current.”
“Ellie, you’re scared, of course you are, we all are, but you have to think rationally about what you’re saying.”
Again she screamed a senseless yell. “There, look!”
He whipped his head, spying the barn roof, the rippling waters and…nothing. “I don’t see anything, honey.”
“It was there,” she cried, sure as sure could be. Her harsh voice sounded pained as she added, “And don’t you fucking call me ‘sweetie’ or ‘honey’ again, do ye hear me? I am not losing my mind, I saw something out there going against the current. Against. There’s something in the water.”
So much for our mended relationship.
As she broke into tears, Esther surprised Joseph by striding past him and embracing the girl. Ellie instantly fell lax in the old woman’s hold as sobs wracked her body and Esther stroked her hair, rocking ever so slightly back and forth. The teen’s outburst hurt Joseph, hurt like a stone to the head, but he left the two where they stood and swiped his balled-up shirt from the shingles. Soaked through. But better than nothing. He wrung the material as water splashed the tiles before pulling it across his cold, wet arms. Then something splashed by the barn.
“Cow,” Esther said, still holding Ellie. “Would you look at that.”
The terrified animal dripped water as it scrambled onto the tin roof and let out a mournful cry. It circled the structure as if seeking an escape, eventually falling still at the peak and moaning once more.
“Poor thing,” Esther said. “That’s one of the Rourke’s herd.”
But Joseph was no longer paying attention to the cow. A scurry of fear raced up his back at the sight of what stood atop Tony Fenton’s old property.
An emaciated and shaking fox.
Its bushy tail whipped back and forth, agitation on clear display. Its tongue whipped from its lips and lapped at its snout. And then its hungry eyes found Joseph.
Help’s coming, he thought. Of course it is.
CHAPTER THREE
 
 
High above the still waters, the sun crept across the sky, sending harsh rays through a blanket of clouds. Animal cries carried on the gusting wind, more scream-like than anything—cows, horses and other creatures trapped on rooftops in the folds of the hillside. Joseph couldn’t decide if they were the lucky ones or not. Their wailing seemed to lean for the latter.
His phone life read four percent, and though he tried emergency services every five minutes, the clogged lines refused a response. The apologetic automated voice grated on his nerves.
“I’m freezing,” Ellie said, hugging herself as her teeth chattered. She sat pressed to the chimney. “Why isn’t anyone coming?”
It had to be, what, one o’ clock already? Joseph strained his ears all morning, willing helicopter blades to slice the gale-force winds. Once, he swore he heard such a thing, and quickly feared for his sanity. Just a lack of sleep, he promised himself, it’s grand…
Esther cleared her throat. “Honey, I can’t tell you help is coming, because I just don’t know.” Esther. Her voice maintained the same somber tone since Douglas’s downfall. Her infectious hopelessness wormed its way though what little optimism Joseph’s maintained. “We’re just going to have to sit and wait,” she said. “It might come. It might not.”
“Can you not say that?” As the rain continued its assault, Joseph grew numb to the sharp droplets on his skin. His fingers had turned a fish-belly white. He worked them inside his pockets for comfort alongside his phone. “You’re not doing us any good.”
“The truth is always a good thing,” Esther rebutted, as if quenching any and all doubt. “Hard as that is to hear.”
“What harm can a positive outlook have? It’s only been a few hours.”
“I’m not one for rainbows and happy endings. That was Douglas’s world.” Her lips quivered then, and she batted at her cheeks. “He’d be here right now if he didn’t cling to such foolishness.”
“You mean the book? I saw it in his hands.”
She nodded; a jerky movement. “Couldn’t go anywhere without a book. Old Irish fables. And now look. Cost him his life. I’m a realist, Joseph. I won’t tell your daughter we’ll be saved. Because I just don’t know.”
Joseph hunkered by Ellie, careful not to get too close. Though they had moments, he wasn’t stupid enough to presume on their friendship. “Look. We just don’t know when rescue will come, but it is coming, okay? We just have to sit tight a little while.”
“How can you say that so surely?” she asked. Joseph cast Esther a rancid look. If that old woman poisoned his daughter’s mind further, all hope could float on the current right now.
“We’re all terrified,” he said, facing the old woman. “And I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, but just stop. We have to start thinking of something helpful now. We can process things later.”
His dad had left him with an instinct for priority, that, and a collection of country records. Joseph would allow himself the trauma in due time, but right now, for his daughter’s sake, survival was paramount.
A solid thump made them yelp.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Ellie grabbed Joseph’s arm. “That poor thing!”
“I know, I know.”
The cow lay dead on its side, its blank gaze reflecting the churning waters. Its head lolled half-off the roof just inches from the roiling surface. Heart attack, Joseph guessed. Poor fecker.
“It’s awful.”
“It’s going to stink come a day or two,” Esther said.
“Yeah, well, we won’t be here in a day or two.”
The old woman rolled her eyes at that, as if she secretly held a magic 8-ball containing all answers to their future. Joseph mouthed something he’d never call his own mother, and watched as the fox stretched and licked its lips.
“Look at that,” Ellie said, more curious than scared. “You think it’s gonna…”
“I can’t say. I hope not.”
“If it does, that thing in the water will get it.”
“There’s nothing in the water, Ellie.”
“There is.”
And they yelled when bubbles burst the surface behind them. Somewhere above the front yard. Joseph spun just in time to see ripples dissipate. He skirted down the roof, grabbing hold of a tree beyond the gutter jutting from the water.
“From our car,” he said, choked. He placed a hand on his chest. “That’s all. Air escaping. Window must’ve broken.”
And then he cried. Hot tears heated his cheeks, tickling his numb face. He wanted to sink right through the roof, down into the past and wake up in bed, noisy city and all. Anywhere but here.
It’s all gone. Everything’s gone…
“Joe? It’s okay.”
Ellie’s kind gesture served to bring more tears, and when she stroked his arm, he collapsed onto her shoulder as his entire body shook with guilt and fear. He thought of how a single day hindered on nothing more than a celestial coin toss, more than likely to fall on ‘mundane’ than not. But sometimes? Sometimes…
“It’s just a car,” she said. “We can get a new one.”
Though he nodded into her hair, Ellie didn’t know about the things in the boot. The letters, all gone. The clothes, ruined.
The smell. Gone, gone, gone.
And, of course, the ashes.
“Fuck.” He pushed from his daughter’s hold, craned his neck to face the rains. “Just fuck it anyway.”
The fox mewled in response and rose to its feet.
“Yeah, fuck you too, buddy,” he called, and that got a nervous chuckle from his daughter. “We’ll be all right, okay? Just have to hang on a bit. Mountain Rescue are probably circling the Wicklow Hills as we speak.”
“They probably are,” Esther chimed. “If they’re not drowned out themselves. Gale-force winds will hold ‘em back. Can’t fly in these conditions. And Wicklow Town’s probably worse than it was in ‘65, but you’re too young to remember that. We are not the priority.”
We are not the priority, Joseph repeated in his mind, but said, “Cheers for that, Esther.”
“Just calling a spade a spade.”
And I’m calling a hopeless bitch a hopeless bitch.
With a sigh, he scolded himself. She did just lose her husband, after all. Her sanity had more than likely crept to the dark allies where old secrets and suppressed memories lurked, not to be found until they were good and ready. And, as the old woman cried, Joseph made to hug her but stopped when a chuckle ghosted through the tears. “There he is,” she said. “Would ya look…”
And she was right. Douglas’s corpse bobbed on the surface of the now Guinness-colored deluge, snagged on something by the edge of the property. Another tree was Joseph’s guess, but he couldn’t see beneath the current. The old man lay horizontally, arms outstretched like an upside-down and undead Superman.
“If—if help does come,” Esther cried, “We can get his body onto a helicopter and I can bury him.”
“Yeah, of course, Esther. We can do that.”
She nodded franticly. “Okay. That’s good.”
A little hope goes a long way.
“That’s what will happen,” he pushed. “Won’t even be a day, trust me. The government has the cities under control, of course they do. And right now, we need to think of shelter. If a helicopter takes a while to get here, we need something over our heads or we’re going to catch pneumonia. If we haven’t already.”
“Okay,” Esther agreed, sniffling as she steeled her constitution. Her eyes remained locked on her husband’s corpse. “Where do we start?”
As the fox cried out, Joseph ignored the call and rose, chewing his lip. Aside from swimming beyond the gray horizons--out of the question, you can’t even swim—nothing stood out as far as shelter was concerned. Rooftops and tree crowns. Rooftops and tree crowns.
He’d grown immune to the lashing rain, though he knew they needed some form of cover for health’s sake. He made to speak when Ellie yelped.
She cartwheeled and smacked the roof.
Joseph balked as a shingle flew through the air and plonked into the drink. He raced to his daughter’s side.
Helping her upright, he wiped the crud off her back. “You okay? You hurt?”
“Fuckin’ roof,” she moaned. She gritted her teeth while rubbing her leg. “Tile came loose.”
“Let me see.”
She rolled up her jeans as she winced. Joseph noted her shaking, pale fingers.
Shelter, Joseph, think.
“Looks all right,” he said, “Just a bit red.”
“Hurts like a cunt.”
“Language.”
Then he spied the hole where the shingle once lay—like a missing tooth in a dirty mouth. Beneath lay a glistening layer of asphalt adhesive. “Esther,” he called. “What’s under the roof? Second floor?”
“Attic,” she said, still eying her husband’s wobbling corpse. “Little cubby space we kept old clothes and stuff. Christmas decorations, that kind of thing. Clothes. Broken pots and pans.”
“I have an idea. Push back, Ellie.”
As the teen shifted, Joseph worked his frozen fingers around an adjacent shingle, the gritty surface racking his palms. He eyed the water level—just touching the gutter—but with some hope, beneath the roof might be undamaged.
He snapped the shingle and Esther balked. “What the hell do you think you’re doing over there to my house?”
“Shut up a second.”
He frisbee’d the tile into the current before grabbing another.
“Joe, what are you doing?”
“Just hoping. Here, take that one.”
With his daughter’s help, they worked in tandem. Ellie followed his lead and word, and soon, they’d pulled free a dozen roof tiles, revealing a roll of black asphalt paper down a jagged hole. Joseph traced his fingers across the hard surface, seeking a lip. “Can’t get this stuff off. If we can break through, we could climb down into the attic. Shelter.”
“What? But what about that itchy yellow, pink stuff?”
“Fiberglass? Well, we’re just going to have to make do with what we’ve got. But listen, we can get warm down there, out of the rain, and that’s a hell of a lot better than freezing to death out here. And there’s bound to be a water tank. At least in our old place, it was in the attic. Esther, is your water tank down there?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“It’s okay. It has to be. Water might not be the best, some have open tops, not fit to drink, but it’ll do in a pinch. At least until help comes. Okay?”
“Okay.” Excitement jittered Ellie’s voice, along with the cold. “How do we do this?”
“I’m going to need to cut through the asphalt. Either that or find a lip to rip it up, but I’m not seeing any. And if we pull off too many tiles like a bloody advent calendar, we’ll have no damn roof left at all for protection. This is all praying the attic isn’t flooded in the first place.”
“I…I have a blade,” Esther said, and Joseph almost yelled with equal amounts of gratitude and fear.
He turned to the old woman. “Why are you carrying a knife?”
Esther’s eyes found Ellie before she said, “Kathy, down the road. I take one with me every time I visit. It’s…look, it’s that arsehole of a caretaker she has. I never trusted him. He’s always eying me in a sick way, even though I’m an auld one and he’s only about forty. I just don’t trust him. Never have.” She paused, added, “And I’m thankful he’s more than likely dead now. He touched me once. Back before Christmas. Had a few drinks. Kathy told me not to cause a fuss. I let it drop. Never even told Douglas. But he still looked at me, every time I was down there. So I took a blade.”
Joseph cringed at the thought, grateful Ellie never crossed his path. Out in the country, there were a lot of dark places with few people. Places all sorts of things could go unnoticed. He pushed the nightmare aside. “Can I have the blade? Sooner I get this done, the sooner we might have a roof over our heads.”
“Yes.” Esther reached inside her coat and pulled free a box cutter. A brand new, still capped blade.
“Jesus.”
“And I’d have no issue ripping the bastard’s throat with it either.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t. Here. Thanks.”
He accepted the cutter—albeit a little nervously—and popped the protector free. The fresh razor slid from the shaft with ease. “Okay, let’s hope this goes to plan.”
Working his hand inside the jagged hole, Joseph forced the razor into the asphalt and drew a hard line. The paper parted instantly. From Tony Fenton’s old property, the fox cocked its head with interest. Joseph only spared the animal a quick glance before slashing a sharp ‘X’. He slid the blade back inside the shaft before pocketing the cutter and working his fingers around the asphalt paper. “Here goes.”
With a grunt, he wrenched free a corner and the paper ripped, revealing a layer of fluffy, pink fiberglass. “Let’s see if I can…” He slid his leg inside the hole and kicked, smashing plywood. He kicked harder and broke through the material. Particles danced off in the wind. And his boot never found water. “I think this could work.” He eagerly repositioning himself and kicked again as something cracked and the pink material dipped. “Ellie, get back behind the chimney, I don’t want you breathing any of this stuff.”
With a few more kicks, he made a clear hole through the plywood and fiberglass, and beneath lay a dry and dank cubby. Although he couldn’t see it, he knew the water moved just beneath in the second story of the house. “Thank fuck,” he said, and studied the hole. They’d need to snap more shingles and kick out the wood before working their way through the roof, but with a little effort, they could create a sizable rabbit-hole and slip inside the attic. There, only a few inches of fiberglass sat atop a skeleton of timber, separating them from the waters beneath their feet. But it would be enough.
It’s hope.
And so, they got to work. Ellie cast nervous glances at the meandering flood as she pulled the tiles with both hands, searching for the thing, Joseph knew, but she never said a word. Though she cringed each time a shingle slapped the flood’s surface. Nothing but dead things and fishes, Joseph reminded himself, though he stole a few glances all the same. Just dead things and fishes.
Ellie cradled her reddened hands, her brow knitted. “Think that’s enough?”
“I think so. I’ll go first.”
As Esther shuffled to the edge of the hole, still not helping but curious, Joseph gently lowered himself down. While gripping the ragged edges, his boots gently found spongy material. He kicked until he felt a board grace his sole, then released his hold on the roof and drew his arms down. Putting too much weight on the fiberglass would surely send him crashing through into the waters below. They’d need to thread ever-so carefully on this wooden framework. He grabbed an angled support beam as he waited for his eyes to adjust, and the moldy, brown stench of old boxes and clothes filled his nostrils. He could stand, at least, but just about. Getting back out would require a boost on Ellie’s part, but shelter was shelter and he was in no position to complain.
“It’s all right,” he called. “Dry down here. Just have to be careful where we stand. This could work, though. Stinks a little, that’s about it. Come on through.”
As Ellie began to slip inside, Joseph’s vision adjusted to the gloom. Stacked cardboard boxes lay against the far wall beyond a square hatch in the floor—an entrance to the attic not unlike the one from his own childhood home. Or Ellie’s, for that matter. A stepladder—furniture, most the time—would have to be placed beneath the hatch in order to lift it and climb inside. A soft gurgle came from around the corners as the murky floodwaters lapped beneath.
“Land on a board, Ellie,” Joseph called. “Roof beneath the fiberglass is fragile. Not made for weight. Don’t want you going through.”
A foldable kitchen table sat propped against the wall on the left, and as Ellie dropped down, Joseph pulled it, reveling a cobweb-covered top side. “Could work if we lay this down on the boards, make for more of a surface. You could sleep on it.”
“That’s disgusting.” Ellie dusted off her hands and shivered, eying up the room.
“Yeah, well, disgusting is better than nothing.”
“Joseph?” Esther called. Her head appeared through the roof. “Can you?”
“Oh, of course. Here. On the count of three.”
Esther came feet-first, and Joseph guided her by the hips before she released the roof and plummeted down. She landed on a board with a thump, throwing Joseph off balance. He snatched an overhead beam.
“Sorry,” Esther said. “Are you okay?”
He pulled himself upright using the support beam and clapped his hands together. “All good. We’re just gonna have to be careful around here. Your husband didn’t cheap out on the framework, we can count ourselves lucky for that.”
Esther gave a sad smile as she slowly eyed the attic. She moved cautiously, like a woman in a dream. With the drumming on the shingles and the clammy heat of the room itself, Joseph could almost pretend it was cozy. Then he scratched beneath his chin where a fresh itch tickled. “Fiberglass is going to get to us, but we’re going to have to ignore it. Best we can do.”
Ellie hissed as she raked her nails up and down her arms. “I’m not going to complain,” she said, “But yeah, this will suck.”
“It will.”
Esther walked a board like a tight-rope, using the beams to keep upright as she made her way to the boxes at the back. A soft, “oooh,” escaped her lips as she traced a finger across the cardboard. “I haven’t been up here in years,” she whispered. “After 2014, we just stopped putting up Christmas decorations.” She glanced back at Joseph. “Too much hassle.”
As her fingers worked along the mottled box, she sniffled. “You wouldn’t believe the gaudy shite that’s in here. Seriously. There’s an elf wearing a purple jacket that my Douggy liked to put on top of the tree. Used to be a red jacket but he painted it. Gave it a green hat, too. There’s a blue-nosed Rudolph reindeer ornament, a yellow-coated Santa…all kinds of things.”
Joseph nodded and decided not reply, letting the memories flow. Besides the boxes and the hatch in the floor, a water tank stood near the back corner. Joseph made his way across. He peered into the insulated cylinder, a semi-circle covering revealing glittering dark water. “We have something to drink,” he said. “It’s been half uncovered, so there could be fiberglass, dead insects, god-knows-what floating about, but if we get desperate…”
“Help will be here before we need to go that far,” Ellie said.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”
From the ragged hole they’d made in the roof, a shower of rain spilled inside and darkened the fluffy material beneath. With time, that would become an issue. Joseph made a mental note to find a bucket or some other container to catch the water before it softened the fiberglass and destroyed their only escape.
 Esther tapped a box. “His old clothes in this one. I made him put them away.”
“What? Clothes?”
“Yes.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Esther, can we please open that up? If we don’t get out of these wet clothes, we’re going to catch something.”
The muggy attic made his soaking clothes grip his flesh like a second skin. A dry change of clothes sounded too good to be true.
“Suppose he won’t mind now,” she said in a monotone. “Go on. Just be aware, it’s Douglas’s fashion sense you’re talking about, so don’t expect anything you’d normally wear. Might be some of my old stuff in there, too.”
“I’m not wearing old man clothes.” Ellie cast Joseph a glance as she folded her arms. “I’m serious. I’m not.”
“Well you’re not catching hypothermia, either. Said you wouldn’t complain, remember?”
He made his way to the cardboard stack using Esther’s tight rope technique and placed the top box aside—heavier than expected. After fishing the blade, he sliced the brown tape holding the flaps before ripping the top open. The smell of old jumpers and jeans filled his nostrils.
“Would you look at that,” Esther said with a sad smile. She came to his side and slipped the first item free. A bright green suit-jacket. “Wore this one to our friend’s wedding back in 2002. Made him retire it the next day.” She folded the item lovingly before pulling out the next. “Normal jeans--he retired these after I bought them for him. Still have the price on the back, look.” She teased the plastic tag with her forefinger. “Wouldn’t be caught dead in something so average.” That word--dead—made her lips tremble, but she pushed past and continued her rummage. “Here you are, Ellie. This is one of mine.”
She removed a stiff pair of rose-colored overalls and flicked them out. Dust danced in the clammy air. “Might be a little big, but they’ll fit.”
“Thank you,” Ellie said, and accepted the clothing without complaint. Joseph smiled.
“Best take a jumper, too. This should do.”
Joseph and Esther faced the wall as Ellie changed from her wet clothes. When Joseph turned, he tried his damnedest not to laugh. Ellie pouted in what her mother would’ve called a “complete Ellie face,”—a forced, flat expression topped with tight lips. A very unhappy face.
“You look fine,” he teased, attempting to lighten the mood. Ellie nodded silently and brushed aside her wet hair using the florescent orange sleeve of the oversized jumper. Her wet clothes lay in a heap by the hatch. “Keep talking,” she said. “It’s your turn.”
And until the thunder boomed from outside, Joseph could’ve all but forgotten their predicament. Reality hit ten-fold when his stomach grumbled.
 
*****
 
“He moved here in ‘88 from Scotland, my Douglas. Got a job on a construction site in Wicklow Town. I worked at a shop at the time, was 29 or 30, thereabouts. Used to come in and buy a Twister ice-pop and a Curly Wurly every day at noon. Later found out he was only coming in to see me, building up the courage to ask me out. Of course I said yes. The man wore multi-colored combat trousers. What can I say, he stood out.”
As Joseph shifted his position, the hard timber beam gnawed his spine. He wore a gaudy Christmas jumper with a grinning snowman adoring the chest. The jeans were average, according to their previous owner. To Joseph, they were dry and warm. He and Esther had ripped up some cardboard boxes and laid them on the fiberglass-covered floor for sleeping. Esther lay atop a spread of cardboard now, still wearing her rain-soaked wax coat but with fresh clothes beneath. Fresher than the ones she’d worn that morning at least. Now she stared at the underside of the roof, blinking and breathing slowly. Joseph had found a pot, an old metal piece for the hob missing a handle, and had placed it beneath the hole in the roof. It wouldn’t catch all of the water, but it’d do some good, and the rain now tap-tap-tapped against the metal.
“Anything else useful in these boxes? You guys have a cache of astronaut food you forgot to mention?”
Esther gave a tired smile. “I wish. Just more clothes and decorations. And Douglas’s book collection. Old paperbacks we didn’t have the room for. If I’m honest, I don’t want to root too much. Too many sore memories waiting for me.”
“I understand. I’m sorry.”
She shifted her weight. “Why did he have to go back for a book? He could be here with us now.”
The electrical zap played in the cinema of Joseph’s mind. The sparks, quick as a bullet. What a way to go.
“He loved Irish mythology,” she said. “It’s why he moved here. Borderline obsessive, I says. Always felt a kinship to the lore. Me? I’d see a spaceship and call it fake. But that changed when I met my Douglas.”
“How do you mean?”
Her brow knitted together. “Ever notice all our back roads are wonky? Like, all of them? It’s because no one wanted to disturb the fairy trees. Hawthorn. According to Brehon Law, those trees were not to be cut, moved, or messed with in any way. Stopped the construction of a whole motorway not too long ago. People didn’t want to disturb the fairies. We’re a superstitious bunch, our lot.”
“You don’t believe in fairies though, do you?”
“Me? I can’t say. Before I met Douglas, I’d tell you yes without thinking. But, Joseph, since I met Douglas, I don’t know. Your daughter would think me mad, speaking like this, but I’ve seen things. Things I can’t explain while with that man. Lights out in the woods, for example. Will O’The Wisp. Late at night. Stuff Douggy took in stride. Even though he was Scottish, our myths and legends are intertwined. Celtic, at the root. He lived his life by those legends. Damn him, that’s all I have to say now. Just damn him.”
“I’m sorry for what happened.”
“Me, too.” She finally looked to him, her sunken eyes red and half-closed. “Me, too.” Then she wiped at her face, sniffled. “What time do you think it is?”
“Probably about 8p.m. Sun went down little over an hour ago.”
“I’m starving.”
“Me, too.”
“Didn’t want to mention it in front of the girl.”
Joseph glanced at Ellie curled up on the kitchen table, her mouth lolled open. Just like she used to look after falling asleep on the couch as a child. Though, back then, she’d have blanky pressed to her stomach and a smile on her face.
“What happened to her mother?” Esther spoke just above a whisper.
“Bad choices. Happens all the time.”
“Dead?”
Joseph rested his head against the support beam, closed his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s dead.”
“Sorry.”
“Me, too.”
They sat in silence, the rain hitting the rooftop, rushing waters outside the walls, the teenager snoring.
“You really think help won’t come?” he asked, matching Esther’s conspiratorial tone. “I really don’t want to drink that tank water, but we might have to.”
“I don’t know. Can’t say for sure. But I am sorry for dashing your hopes. My head’s just not right at the minute. It’s a lot, you know?”
“Of course. Look, we’ll do our best to work through this. And you know we’re both here for you, Esther.”
“Thank you.”
A midge landed on his arm and Joseph swatted it. “Little feckers. They’re going to be all over the place soon.”
“We’re going to have to deal with more than just them come tomorrow. You noticed the fox.”
“I did.”
“And whatever she saw in the water.”
Joseph swallowed a lump in his throat. “You believe her?”
“I don’t know what to believe right now. Douglas would’ve said it was a Kelpie without batting an eyelash.”
“A what?”
“A Kelpie. Celtic demon that lives in waterways. Looks like a dead horse.”
Joseph recalled the horse skeleton in the flood, shook his head. Coincidence. He needed sleep. They all did. Still, goosebumps crawled up his arms.
“Something in the water, though? You really think she saw something alive?”
Esther sat upright, and for the briefest moment, Joseph cringed at how deep-set her reddened eyes appeared. Her face became skull-like. “Douglas changed my mind on many things. I can’t say what she saw.”
Ridiculous. People closing roadway construction for the fairies and water demons swimming in a Wicklow reservoir. Was the whole country insane?
“I can tell you what she didn’t see,” he said, anger teasing his tone. “A creature. I’ve seen fridges and all sorts in that water. It’s something from one of the houses out there. Not a demon. Not a fairy.”
“Don’t be so quick to dismiss her.” Esther pulled a carton of cigarettes from her jacket, checked the contents. “Still dry. 12 or so left. Suppresses the appetite. Want one?”
Joseph’s chest tightened at the offering. “Gave up 8 months, 2 days, and…5 hours ago. I think I’m good.”
“Good for you.”
She pulled a lighter before popping a cigarette between her lips and lit up. Joseph thought about asking if that was such a good idea with Ellie in the room, but then he remembered whose roof they were under. The old woman could do damn-well as she pleased.
The cherry bloomed bright as Esther sucked smoke deep into her lungs before exhaling with a sigh. The gray cloud caught on the draft and danced out the hole in the roof. Thunder boomed in the distance.
“Something tells me it won’t be the smokes that kill me,” she mused.
“We’re not going to die out here.”
“Tell that to my Douglas.” She took another drag, then swatted a bug on her neck. “The smoke should at least keep these little bastards out. That’ll be one less thing to worry about.”
“We need to start thinking about food.”
“Among other things,” she said around her cigarette.
“What does that mean?”
“I’m just thinking…how long does it take a body to rise to the surface of the water?”
“Guess we’re going to find out.”
“It’s going to stink. Putrid. All that meat. That dead cow alone is going to draw flies and midges.”
And as Joseph opened his mouth to reply, something splashed outside.
CHAPTER FOUR
 
 
Joseph hoisted himself from the attic, the act akin to an extreme pull-up. The rain smacked his skin, soaking through his—Douglas’s—dry clothes in seconds as he stood and scanned the hills. Moonlight bounced off the wobbling waters, the deluge falling with incessant white noise.
“What is it?” Esther called up.
Joseph squinted and wiped his face, scanning the flood.
There.
The drenched fox stood above the cow, sniffing the carcass as it circled.
“It’s the fox,” he shouted back, eyes never leaving the grisly sight. As thunder boomed, the creature stuck its snout down, and wrenched its head back and forth. The dead cow jostled with force.
“Jesus…”
A low growl carried on the sharp wind as the hungry critter fought to rip a chunk free. It slammed its paws on the cow’s hide, holding the prey in place for better traction before wrenching its neck up. Then came a slow, wet ripping as the fox’s teeth tore a chunk. The cow’s eyes caught the moonlight, staring right at Joseph. Crimson drooled from around the fox’s maw.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
The fox’s jaws worked the tough meat, desperate smacking sounds audible above the gale. As Joseph crept back to the hole and lowered himself inside, the hairs on his arms stood to attention.
“It got the cow,” he said, and even back inside the attic, if he strained his ears just-so, the desperate feeding carried on the wind.
“Let’s just go to sleep,” Esther said, plucking another cigarette from her pack.
“Good idea.”
He closed his eyes as nightmarish images flared in his mind. He sighed.
“Horrible, isn’t it?” Esther whispered. “I keep wondering if Kathy is floating inside her living room with that asshole caretaker, Kevin. Keep seeing her, just banging off things like a rag-doll. I can’t help it.”
“Yeah,” Joseph said with a breath, and wiped his face. He craved a cigarette, anything to dampen his nerves. “Can’t help picturing what it looks like out there.”
“At least they’re not suffering,” Esther said. “That’s what I keep telling myself. It’s only us that have to suffer now.”
“Right,” Joseph said, and breathed the sweet smell of cigarette smoke, calming, slightly. “Let’s just try and get some sleep. If we can.”
Esther lit a second cigarette from the cherry of her first.
It was a long time before either drifted off.
 
*****
 
“It smells like cigarettes,” Ellie said, sitting upright. As she stifled a yawn and stretched, Joseph noted the string of cobwebs lodged in her golden locks.
“Here,” he said, and plucked the webbing. “Not the most sanitary place to stay.”
“Were you smoking?”
“Me? No. Esther was.”
“Yeah?” Ellie craned her neck for a better view of the woman curled on the cardboard. Even in sleep, her face was scrunched with agitation.
“Can I get one?”
Joseph balked. He opened his mouth to speak but his vocabulary had vanished.
“What?”
“You just asked for a cigarette! You’re 15, Ellie.”
“I’m 16, Joseph.”
“You’re…” He wiped a hand across his aching face. With only sporadic dozes throughout the night, his head felt fuzzy and bogged. The sounds of the howling winds, lashing rain, and ever-persistent chewing, made sure he stayed alert. On occasion, he heard the fox shake its head vigorously as it tore another chunk. Joseph’s stomach had lurched with each new slop and smack.
“I’m sorry,” Joseph said, making eye contact. Ellie refused to meet his gaze. “Ho—” He froze the word ‘honey’ in his throat. “Ellie, I’m just tired, stressed, I didn’t sleep. I know you’re 16. My brain’s cloudy.”
“When’s my birthday.” More a statement than a question.
“The 19th of November. I’m not that much of an asshole.”
Ellie let the argument drop, found a chunk of framework to busy herself with.
“I’m not,” he repeated. “Let’s not do this today.”
“I’m having a cigarette.”
Joseph’s heart ached as Ellie got to her feet and tip-toed along the boards to Esther. He studied her movement, the swift actions of an almost-adult, no longer his little girl. And perhaps she was right: he didn’t know that much about her. When the fuck had she started smoking? Did Nana know about this? When Ellie reached the old woman, she hunched, swiped the pack, and shook free a smoke before snagging the lighter and taking a deep drag. With her head craned to the hole in the roof, she blew a fat cloud that caught the morning light before she returned. And made a point of not looking away from him now.
“I’m not going to tell you what you can’t do,” he said, but goddammit if his lip wasn’t quivering. “I just hope you’ll consider your actions have consequences. And that you know it upsets me.”
“Oh, I know it does.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“And I hope you know,” said Esther, sitting upright, “That these are my only cigarettes, young lady. You take another one without asking and I’ll slap you upside the head whether your father is here or not. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, miss,” Ellie croaked.
“Consequences,” Joseph repeated. Ellie took a long look at her cigarette before putting it out.
“Good.” Esther lay back down, pinched at the bridge of her nose. Joseph knew she’d slept as little as himself, the nightmare of losing her husband escaping past her lips in bursts as her brain betrayed her; showed her hellish images. He’d woken her three times when things got too intense, more for his own comfort than hers. Those high-pitched wailings sounded as if her all-consuming horror was so big it was seeping from her mouth. “What are you doing, Ellie?” Esther called.
The teen stopped scratching her nail into one of the support beams. “Marking the days. Like people do in prisons.”
Joseph cocked his head. “Ah, Ellie. You’re going to get one more scratch on that post. Maximum.”
“We’ll see,” she said, tracing her finger over her work. “Just in case.”
 
*****
 
“Jesus Christ.”
The three of them stood on the slant of the roof, shivering in the harsh winds. The rain had lessened some, an average shower now, but low fog had rolled in from the hillside, curling along the gray surface of the waters. Waters which had darkened over the past twenty-four hours. He spotted new things floating in the depths: shreds of soggy paper, bottles and condiments, buckets and dog toys. Everyday household objects too light to stay down. The almost-still flood had become a soup overnight, and soon, he knew the broth would begin to stink.
But the waters weren’t what held their attention.
“Where is it?” Ellie asked.
The barn roof stood empty, the rain struggling to wash a crimson stain off the tin. A lump of something pink-brown sat where the cow’s head once lay.
“Must’ve fallen in,” Esther said, searching the flood. Joseph noted her attention continued to snap back to her husband’s bobbing body, still lodged in the oak. Thankfully, he was too far out for much detail, but the bright tie could not be mistaken. Even at this distance, Joseph saw the dead man’s skin had taken on a bruised hue.
“Maybe it did fall in,” he said, but in his mind, a single thought whirled: I was awake all night. I’d have heard a splash that loud.
An animal of that size would’ve cannon-balled the waters. Yet he’d heard not a thing. Not a thing all night.
The fox slept against the chimney of Tony Fenton’s old place, its snout shining red and its stomach more plump than the day before. Its leg twitched as it dreamed.
“Well it hardly ate the whole thing now, did it?” Ellie scoffed. “That’s…bizarre.”
“Bizarre is right,” Joseph agreed, then winced as his bladder cramped. “I’ve got to go,” he said, and shuffled his way to the opposite slant of the roof. Shimmying down the slope, his chest tightened. One wrong move and he’d be in the drink, unable to swim. Swimming was one of those pastimes he always promised to get around to, like getting better at processing software or exercising more. He’d even bookmarked various leisure centers on his laptop but never pulled the trigger. There’s always tomorrow, he thought.
He unzipped and shivered as he let loose a day’s worth of build-up. His urine bubbled in the water and he prayed a corpse didn’t float by. He wasn’t prepared to go number two out here.
“Where am I supposed to go?” Ellie asked.
“Go here when I’m done, we’ll be at the other side of the roof.”
“It’s not…that I have to do.”
Speaking of number two…
“Oh.” Joseph zipped his fly before traipsing oh-so-carefully back up the slope. He scratched his neck, getting at the fiberglass that drifted down his collar during the night.
“I have an idea,” Esther said. That dead monotone had crept back into her voice, perhaps resurfacing from the sight of Douglas. “The attic hatch. Open it and use it like a toilet.”
Ellie balked. “I can’t shit on your second floor. Seriously.”
“Seriously, what else are you going to do?” Esther spat. Joseph threw the old woman a glance.
“Don’t speak to her like that.”
“She’s either shitting down there or she’s shitting her pants, I don’t much care which but I’m trying to offer you a solution. It’s my house. Shit in it all you want.”
Ellie looked between the two before making her way to the hole in the roof. Without a word, she dipped down inside.
“I’m sorry,” Esther said with a sniffle. The cold morning turned her breath to a visible pillar. “I’m just…you know.”
“I know. It’s all right.”
“And I don’t know what to think about that,” she said, motioning to the blank barn roof. “I feel like I’m in a nightmare and can’t wake up. I’ve been crying, but I don’t feel it yet, if that makes sense?”
Joseph recalled Sarah’s death all too well. How his brain turned the flow of reality on and off, only allowing him to experience so much hurt before cutting the supply again. He’d spent uncountable hours drifting down the dingy corridors of his mind while his body booted on autopilot. Those waves became less painful over time, less powerful, but he recalled that sense of surrealism all too well.
“I just don’t know how long we’re going to be here for, and I’m scared as fuck, Joseph.”
“Me, too.”
“And, Jesus,” she cried, her lip trembling, “I fuckin’ miss him already loads, I do.”
“Here.” He hugged her and shushed her and patted her back. Esther sniffled into his shoulder as an involuntary sound left her quivering lips.
“I never thought about it,” she said. “Losing him. Like, I’ve thought about it some nights but not really, not actually imagining what his corpse would look like, wondering if he has a soul, is it just floating around the mountains lost? Is he somewhere? Or is he just gone?”
“I can’t answer that. I wish I could.”
“I know. I’m just speaking out loud.” She pulled back and dragged a palm down her worn face. Her eyes almost shot back to her husband but she restrained and kept her focus on Joseph. “A full day gone. Has to end soon. Help will come. I have to believe that.”
“It will, okay? We just need to stay practical. Plenty of time to lose our minds when we’re safe.”
“Right.” She gave a strained smile that didn’t sit well on her haggard face. “Douglas would’ve said he’s gone to Tír Na nÓg or some other such nonsense. Become a fairy or joined the Fianna to battle the Balor. But I think he’s just dead. I want to believe something else, but every time I think about it, I just see nothing. Absolutely nothing, forever and ever. Even after the things I’ve seen being around him, you’d think I’d have changed my mind about death, the afterlife, but I guess not. I don’t believe in heaven. I think he’s just rotting in that tree. And I hate that I don’t have his faith. Not in God or religion, but his faith in the land, the legends. The stories of our people.”
“Have to admit,” Joseph said. “I don’t either. They’re just old tales, fiction, even back then, just old-time fables for the campfire. Something to keep people entertained.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Ellie’s voice came from inside the attic. “Eh, Da? Missus McNamara?”
“What’s wrong, Ellie?”
They stepped carefully to the attic and peered inside.
“Nothing wrong. Just. Had an idea. Is all.”
“Okay?”
A beat passed. “When I was taking a--using the bathroom—you can see there’s a good three inches of space to the water. And…well, my school bag must be in that water somewhere.”
“Oh, god.”
“Look, I know it’s disgusting. And, yeah, I’ve already, y’know, gone, but if I can get my bag, we’ve got food. You put the shopping in there, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Joseph said on auto-pilot.
“So, I mean, if I can swim down…I could—” She gagged, took a moment. “I could find it?”
“Would you be willing to do that?” Esther called.
Joseph threw her a glance. “Hold on a minute, we haven’t decided anything here. My daughter’s not swimming in her own excrement.”
“It would be like one of those Saturday morning TV game shows I used to watch. But instead of goo, it’d be poo.” She let out a half-baked chuckle. “Sorry, I just realize how bad what I’m offering is, but it could mean we have food. And I’m fucking starving. I’d swim through shit for a sandwich.”
“She could,” Esther said, more to herself.
“And, then,” Ellie said, “Help will come, of course, just after I’ve done it and smell like a sewer and that’ll be the photo a newspaper snaps. Typical.”
“You’re preppy all of a sudden,” Esther called.
“Just trying to distract myself from over-thinking. Humor helps.”
Joseph cleared his throat. “You thought of the risk involved? It’s not as simple as dipping down and back up. Besides the trapdoor, you’ve got nothing but roof over your head, it’d be like going under ice.”
“There’s a couple of inches breathing room, Joe, I can pop up if I need air. Don’t get too dramatic here.”
Images of Ellie holding her breath—cheeks fat, eyes wide—as she grabbed her throat beneath the waters flashed in Joseph’s brain. Lightheartedness overcame him and he took deep, slow breathes. “I can’t let you,” he said. “Even if we’re risking no food…I just can’t.”
“Well it’s not up to you,” she shot back.
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t get to decide this, Joe. If we need food, we need food.”
“And what about that thing in the water you saw then?” he shouted louder than intended as his knuckles whitened on edges of the ragged hole.
“Look, I was terrified. Like you are now. I understand how silly that sounded. I’m not a child anymore and sleeping helped. There can’t be anything in the water. Besides the bodies. But there won’t be any of them inside the house.”
“A few hours ago you were screaming that something was in the water. Going against the current, remember that?”
Was he really threatening her with an underwater bogeyman? How childish.
“Do you even know how to swim?” he found himself asking.
“Stop this now, Joe.” Her voice was firm—foreign to Joseph’s ears. Adult-like. “If you have to know, Nana took me to the pool every second week. The water helped with her arthritis. Did you even know she had arthritis? I did laps twice a month for over a year, since you’re asking. Yes. I’m a very good swimmer. Excellent, in fact.”
“Yet you’re smoking,” he shouted. He realized how ridiculous he was being, but that was his daughter. He couldn’t allow her to risk her life for the slim chance she might find food. But what could he do? Grab her by the arm and hold her out of the attic until help arrived? And how long would that take? Besides, when she was six, she’d once waited until he fell asleep—a full two hours—before putting on the DVD she was not allowed to watch, and did it anyway. Ellie would find a way. She always did. She was good at it.
“Just promise me,” he said. “You won’t stay down there long.” He fought the quiver in his voice. “No longer than a few seconds at a time. And if you don’t find the bag within a few minutes, you come back up. Can you please meet me halfway on that?”
“I can.”
“Thank you,” he said. He almost jumped when Esther patted his hand.
“She can do this,” she said. “I believe her. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Easy for you to say. I’ve got everything to lose.
He whispered, “thank you,” before slipping back inside the house. After Esther went to “do her business” from the roof, Joseph helped her back inside the attic, and the two found Ellie sitting by the open trapdoor, peering into the water.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I kind of do,” she said. “And you know that. I’m doing it for you, too. Not just myself. If I’m starving, you’re starving. If we wait any longer, I won’t have the energy to swim and our only chance at something to eat is gonna slip by. Look, it might not even work anyway, bag could be long gone, but we have to try, don’t we?.”
“Just be safe.” Joseph knew the useless remark would go unanswered but felt the need to speak it anyway. Then he added. “I love you.”
Ellie stared at him for the longest time before awkwardly giving him a hug.
“Here.” Esther had pulled a pair of khaki shorts from the clothes box, along with an oversized t-shirt with the graphic of a grinning giraffe. “Got this from Dublin Zoo years ago,” she said. “It’ll be lighter on you than the overalls.”
“Thanks. Always loved me a giraffe.”
As Ellie changed her clothes, Joseph tried not to hyperventilate and instead studied the cobwebs caking the inside of the attic. Occasionally, he glanced at Ellie’s scratch in the support beam. Oh, how he just wanted to wake up and be back in Dublin before the storm.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Ellie, barefooted, tiptoed to the edge of the trapdoor and lowered herself down. Her feet disappeared into the drink.
“Freezing,” she said. “I think I just have to go for it. Like pulling a plaster, as Nana liked to say.”
“I love you,” Joseph tried again, the words coming by their own accord. Ellie gave him a crooked smile, took a deep breath, closed her eyes…and pushed from the edge.
She disappeared in a splash.
Joseph dropped to his knees and scanned the wavering darkness through the trapdoor. After a full three seconds, Ellie burst to the surface and sucked breath. She floated as she grabbed the trapdoor for support and wiped her hair from her face. “Yeah, fuckin’ freezin’ here. Okay. Here we go. Thank God I didn’t do a floater, eh?”
“Jesus Christ, Ellie.”
She sucked one more breath, and slowly dipped beneath the surface. Then she was gone.
As the floodwaters swayed down in the tiny hatch, panic settled in Joseph’s gut. What if help suddenly arrived, and this needless act of courage was for nothing? She could die down there for God’s sake! What was he thinking? Were her last words to him really going to be, “Thank God I didn’t do a floater”?
“Ellie?” he yelled.
A beat passed. Nothing.
“Ellie?”
“Joe, it’s okay,” Esther said. Though he noted her tight body language, how she chewed nervously on her fingernails. He returned his attention to the trapdoor.
“Ellie!”
Splashes from beneath the roof. Sounds he could not quite distinguish. The moment stretched forever as he pressed his teeth together, ready to jump despite the fact he couldn’t swim, just to help in some way, any way, and--
Ellie burst from the waters and Joseph screamed. He jumped to his feet as his hand shot to his slamming heart. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Here, here, help,” she choked, and grabbed the edge of the trapdoor as her other hand burst the surface. Clutching a soaked school bag.
“Holy shit.” Joseph got to his knees, took the school bag, and threw it aside. Then he got a hold of Ellie’s wrist and pulled her back inside the attic. The relief flooding his system was better than any drug he’d ever taken as a teenager. “Oh, thank God.”
Ellie wrestled free of his hands and coughed, agitated. “I’m grand. Will ye stop, please? I’m fine, I did it.”
She stumbled to the cardboard boxes and took a large t-shirt from the box, using it to dry her hair. Then she swiped her dry clothes from atop the kitchen table and got changed. As she slipped from her wet clothes, Joseph grabbed the school bag and unzipped the main compartment. The cereal box was soggy and breaking apart, but he laughed when he pulled out the plastic-protected food itself. Ellie had gotten her cereal.
He shook the treat in her direction. “Would you look at that?”
“I was getting them one way or another, wasn’t I?”
She returned to his side, dry and no worse for wear.
She’s okay. She’s okay…
“Cereal,” Esther said with a chuckle. “What else you have in there?”
Joseph went about sorting through the contents. Six cans of tuna, a sliced pan (still dry and in its wrapping), six cans of peaches, sausages and bacon (useless, unless they could get a fire going), and a liter of milk. “It’s something,” he said. “Can’t take emergency services longer than two days to get here. This will get us through. Not much, but food is food. And I’m very proud of you, Ellie.”
As he said her praise, he made sure to make eye contact—he needed her to know he meant it. And was that a smile he got in return? Joseph decided, yes, it was, and not to push his luck.
“Some school stuff, too,” he added, and pulled free the other items: a compass, a ruler, a pencil case full of pens, tip-ex and tape, and dental floss. Ellie smiled at the last item. “Oh, thank god, my mouth feels like a litter tray. Here.”
She took the floss and broke a length free, working it between her teeth, as Joseph took the two cans of tuna and rolled them about his palms.
“Who wants breakfast?” he asked.
For the briefest moment, he almost believed help would come.
 
CHAPTER FIVE
 
 
“The dog’s in the flower patch,” Esther said.
They sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling above the brackish waters as Ellie napped atop the kitchen table inside the attic. The rain had lessened to a shower, at least momentarily. Low fog still clung to everything in sight, marring objects in the distance until all faded to nothing but a blanket of gray. Joseph felt like the rest of the world had simply been erased. Though they’d eaten a can of tuna and two slices of bread each, none were brave enough to try the water from the tank. Instead, they settled on gulps of milk, deciding it best to finish it before it spoiled.
“The dog?” he asked.
“Buddy was his name. Black Labrador. Douglas and myself had him almost ten years. Found him out near Wexford, abandoned on the main road. Ever see that here in Wicklow? People just dumping dogs like rubbish. Poor things sit by the roadside and watch the passing cars, hoping one is their owner, as if they simply forgot. Of course they didn’t. Never did, never will. Just abandon them out there to be run over or taken in, whichever comes first.
“Douglas said it was love at first sight. Just a pup, it was. Sitting off the motorway, its little head goin’ back and forth each time a car zipped by. Terrified. Doug was driving. Slammed the brakes so hard we caused a backup. People blaring the horns, shouting out the windows. He did a U-turn right there, pulled in and waved as the other drivers were yelling at us. I was just laughing in the passenger seat. Stress rolled off that man like water off a duck. Anyway, he gets to a knee and that pup races over like he’s known Doug all his little life. Hops up on his lap and licks the face off him. Doug just throws me a look that says, ‘guess we’ve got a dog now,’ and that was it for over ten years.”
The fox stirred on Fenton’s rooftop, stretched and yawned. The fur around its mouth had darkened to a deep brown and it licked its lips before curling up again.
“That pup would’ve torn that fox’s throat out would it come within twenty feet of the farm.”
“Think it’s going to be a problem?” Joseph asked. “The fox, I mean.”
“Help doesn’t arrive within a few days. Yeah. Yeah, it’s going to be a problem. I just…I can’t stop thinking about that cow. Where it’s gone. You didn’t hear a thing?”
“Not a sound. I didn’t sleep a wink, I promise I would’ve noticed something. A splash, anything. Just the waters lapping all night, the wind. Anyway, only its head was over the edge, the rest of it was flat-out on the roof. No way that little fox budged it off.”
Esther shivered at that, her brow creased in angry lines. “Don’t want to think about things I have no answers for. Just one step at a time. Your girl is brave, going down for food the way she did. We can get through the day at least. And with the water in the tank, we should be okay.”
“That’s Ellie.” A smile lifted Joseph’s cheeks. “Braver than me and her mother put together.”
“We had a son, you know.”
Joseph kept watching the waters, not wanting to interrupt her. A rook took flight from a nearby tree, coasting in the breeze as it cawed. Free from the trappings of the flood. Joseph envied it.
“Mid-eighties. Not long after I met Doug.”
“Where is he now? Your son.”
Esther sniffled, her eyes far away as they glistened. “Not a story I want to tell right now, all things considered. I’ve lost a lot and don’t want to pick at old wounds. Even lost my dog again. Scattered his ashes right there in the flowers,” she said, nodding to the waters beneath their feet. “Thought it’d be a sweet gesture. Mixed with the soil, and I swear, those roses grew better than any I’d ever planted. It’s silly, but I felt like he was still around in a sense.”
Joseph noted she’d switched the subject of her son but decided prodding wouldn’t change matters. She’d open up in time, or she wouldn’t. He just wanted out of this hellhole.
“Took everything from me,” she said in a harsh voice aimed at the flood. “Couldn’t even leave me with my pup’s ashes. Washed it all away.”
“Well, you’re still here.”
“For now.” She sighed, rubbed at her temple. “Sorry. You’re right. I’m just tired.”
“We all are.”
Joseph scratched at his neck, the fresh stubble and fiberglass agitating his skin. What he’d give for a shower and a shave.
The fox stood then, stirred by their voices. His fat tail batted back and forth as his gaze found them. Then he sat, staring.
“What’s it doing?” Esther asked. She shifted her position, a little shaky.
“Dunno, just…watching us, I think.”
And was its stomach plumper, Joseph wondered? How much of a feed had it gotten last night before the cow pulled its Houdini act and vanished from the barn? He recalled the ripping sounds, the wet smacking of lips, but the cow’s hide would be tough, especially for an emaciated critter. Was it still hungry?
When the fox stalked to the far end of the roof and eyed Douglas’s still-bobbing corpse, Joseph felt his question had been answered.
“No!” Esther shot to her feet, almost toppling over. Joseph leaped and grabbed her as she thrashed and kicked. “No, no, it can’t! Stop it!”
The fox’s eyes shifted from the water at the gutter to Doug, to the water again, calculating distance. Then it leaned forward, ever so slowly—and splashed into the flood.
“No!”
The fox kicked up spats of water, batting its tiny paws as it cut the surface in a clean arc, honing in on the old oak where Douglas lay. The current had softened overnight, and the critter had no issue staying on course. Halfway there now.
Joseph released Esther as she swooped down and ripped a shingle from the edge of the roof. It came free with a crack. She tossed the tile with a yell but it smacked the waters only halfway to the fox. No use.
“Make it stop!” Her eyes blared with fear as she reached for another shingle.
“Esther, it’s no use, you won’t hit it. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”
The fox reached the body. Craning its neck forward, it latched its teeth onto Douglas’s collar and wrenched its head back. Douglas jiggled. Even at this distance, a low, frustrated growl cut across the waters.
Another plonk as Esther tossed a shingle.
The fox pushed from the oak, and Douglas’ body slipped free. Kicking back for Fenton’s property, the fox struggled to stay surfaced, the weight of the corpse dragging it down.
“Leave him alone!”
“Joe, what’s going on?”
Joseph turned at the sound of his daughter’s voice and found her peering from the hole in the roof, hair matted and eyes still puffed from sleep.
“Nothing, Ellie. It’s nothing. Go on back inside.”
The fox reached Fenton’s roof, its head barely above water as it stayed afloat with its catch. It reached the gutter and, for a moment, Joseph thought it wouldn’t get up. It kicked up a froth as it struggled, then released Douglas from its mouth before leaping onto the shingles. Dirty water dripped from its underbelly. The animal spun and snatched Douglas by his bloated neck before he drifted off.
“Stop it, please.”
 “Oh my god…” Ellie pulled herself from the attic and held the chimney just as the fox slid Douglas’s corpse from the flood. The man’s eyes remained open in his waterlogged face, his swollen mouth agape. A fresh gash on his throat drooled onto the shingles. His hands were bruised from where blood had pooled. The fox licked its snout and circled its catch.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Esther cried, raking at her cheeks with shaking hands. “Don’t, please don’t!”
The fox did not heed her pleas. Instead, it bared its fangs and shot forward—catching Douglas by the puffed cheek before wriggling. It tore a chunk free.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Esther, pale as the fog from the hills, stumbled backward. Joseph eased her down onto the roof.
“Sit,” he said, “There’s nothing we can do about this. Just sit.”
“I’m going to be sick,” she repeated, and, as if on command, vomited. Thick upchuck splashed between her feet and rolled across the gutter, combining with the brackish waters before swirling away. Esther, mewing like an animal, closed her eyes and heaved as the fox grunted and chewed and chewed.
Joseph rubbed her back as the simple phrase: fuck, fuck, fuck rotated around his skull. The unforgiving fox snarled as it latched onto the dead man’s bloated face and began shredding the other cheek to ribbons.
Losing her husband, her home, and her dog’s ashes was one thing, but having to sit through the sounds of her dead partner’s face being eaten was a fresh hell Joseph couldn’t imagine. The flood had brought more than hardship. Hell itself had swept across the Wicklow Hills.
“Ellie, you okay?” Joseph called, still patting the old woman’s back.
Not like it’ll do any good, he thought. She’s gone somewhere else. Some dark and quiet place...
“Ellie,” he called again, “Are you—”
The teen stood before the chimney, one hand on the brickwork, the other against her stomach. Her face whitened like fish belly. She swayed a moment, glassy-eyed, just before her lids flickered. And before Joseph could react, she collapsed.
A dull thump came as her skull connected with the chimney.
 
*****
 
“Ellie!”
Joseph shot across the roof and snagged her limp body just as she began to roll. He clasped her beneath one knee and grabbed hold of her head before swiping back her hair. A gush of red spilled across her sweating face.
“Ellie, Ellie…” He lightly slapped her cheek, his heart hammering as his hands shook. Her mouth was parted, eyeballs vibrating beneath their lids.
She’s alive, she’s alive...
His palm shot to the wound, though deep down he knew it would do no good. Warm blood seeped through his frozen fingers.
“Esther, help!”
The old woman was up, crossing the roof on shaky legs. The situation had momentarily removed her from her personal nightmare—for now, at least. “Is she breathing?” she asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, she is. But I need to stop the bleeding, she’s after crackin’ her head off the chimney. Fainted, I think. Yeah, she’s just—”
“Okay, okay.” Esther spoke as steadily as possible. “I’ll hold her here. Go back into the attic and get her sanitary pads and a t-shirt.”
“The house is underwater, Esther, I can’t—”
“The attic, Joseph, keep it together. Go!”
“Right.” As Joseph stood, a bout of lightheadedness almost sent him crashing into the flood. Nothing registered. He saw Ellie, saw her passed out and held by the old woman, he saw the fox chewing and chewing on the dead man’s face, but nothing was real. Nothing was--
“Joe, will ye just go!”
“Right.”
He raced for the hole in the roof, moving on auto-pilot as he knelt and lowered himself inside.
And then his hand slipped.
The bucket used for catching rainwater punched his spine as his head smacked fiberglass. Tiny particles puffed around him. He scrambled to his feet and found it hard to breathe, air refusing to remain inside his lungs. With a hiss, he crossed the timber beams as he brushed off his back, fresh itches blooming to life across his skin. At the far side of the attic, he scooped the schoolbag and dug through the contents.
“Come on, where the fuck are they.”
There. He pulled out a soggy box of sanitary pads before snagging a t-shirt from the storage box. Then he raced for the hole in the roof. And forgot his footing. His leg crashed through fiberglass. He let out a yell as the box and shirt spilled from his hands and his leg plummeted up to his thigh.
“Bollocks!”
With a grunt, he shoved himself upward and worked free of the new hole. His palms stung from the itchy material but he’d deal with that later. Right now, he needed to reach Ellie. Was she still breathing? He scooped the goods and hobbled for the escape as his breathing returned and his leg stung and the fiberglass itched and itched and itched. Whipping his arm back, he threw the t-shirt and the box of pads out onto the roof. Then he took a deep breath—as deep as he could—and leaped, grabbing onto the sharp edges before pulling himself out onto the ice cold slates. Without a moment to catch his breath, he stood, batted fiberglass from the back of his neck, and hobbled to his daughter.
“How is she?”
“She’s breathing.” Esther did not look away from the girl. “Quick, give ‘em here.”
Joseph did as instructed, shaking so badly he almost dropped the box. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
Esther began to rip open the plastic wrapper of a pad while Joseph took a knee and placed his palm on Ellie’s arm. His little girl. He knew panic would not help but the emotion overrode all senses anyway. His surroundings blurred as tears spilled relentlessly and he wiped them away with the back of his arm—smearing his face with particles of fiberglass. “Jesus, will it just ever fucking end?”
“Stop that. Just hold her.”
A sound fought to escape his lips, a pressurized valve set to explode, but Joseph placed his hands on his daughter as Esther removed the backing of the sanitary pad before gently flattening it against Ellie’s head. “It’ll soak up the blood,” she explained. “In a pinch, it could save her life. Saw it on an army documentary, soldiers would use them on war wounds. And head wounds look worse than they are. Douglas got a knock on the site one day, years ago, and he bled like mental but he was fine. Just a bad spot to get a knock, try not to worry.”
Try not to worry.
Though he heard her words, the message was lost as the sanitary pad bloomed red. How much could she bleed? If they just started screaming right now, would someone hear? They’d have to, surely. It could be worth a shot if they just yelled their throats raw and--
“Joseph!”
His neck snapped back. He’d been tipping over. “I’m sorry, Esther. Sorry. Panicking.”
“Well, that makes two of us. Hold on now.”
With the shirt wrapped around her hand, she patted the blood using even, gentle swipes. A soft breath, not unlike a snore, came from Ellie.
“I think she’s coming around.”
Esther continued to carefully mop the blood, slow and steady. “Such a brave girl,” she said, but Joseph noted her wince as a wet, smacking sound came from the fox. She didn’t remove her eyes from the task at hand, blocking the terror of her dead husband with great restraint.
“Here she is…”
The whites of Ellie’s eyes rolled back to normal as her eyes flickered open. For a moment, her unfocused sight drifted about the cloudy sky, then found Joseph and settled. Her brow creased. “What happened?”
“You took a knock, sweetie,” he said, and a swelling in his chest pained with relief. He sniffled as he wiped a lock of hair from her face. “How many fingers have I got up?”
“Two.”
“Right. You could have a concussion so—hey, hey—easy.” He placed a hand on her back as she pushed upright and sucked air through her teeth. Her head wobbled a moment. Then her fingers crept to the wound. “Wha—what’s that?”
“You smacked your head, honey, it honestly looks much worse than it is.”
“Is…” She prodded a bit, saw the sanitary wrapper as the wind rolled it from the roof. “Do I have a fanny pad stuck to me head?”
A laugh burst from Joseph’s gut and--oh!—did it feel good. Even Esther chuckled.
“Yeah, you do. It was her idea.”
“It’ll catch the blood well,” Esther said. “We need to keep an eye on that, and you’re not to sleep for a while, just in case you do have a concussion.”
“Head’s throbbing,” Ellie said, “But I feel okay. Just a little woozy.”
“Yeah, smacking your skull against the chimney will do that.” Esther patted the teen’s shoulder. Joseph found the old woman’s newfound strength admirable, but kept that to himself. Pointing out Esther’s clearheadedness could pop her willpower and send her spiraling back to oblivion. Instead, he simply said, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Then she stood as her face clouded with distance. The wrinkles in her face seemed to deepen. And as the fox almost choked huffing down a ribbon of her husband’s flesh, she shuffled to the hole in the roof and said to Joseph, “Could you help me back inside? I’m very tired now.”
“Sure, Esther. I can do that.”
Just one problem after another.
 
*****
 
As the sunset glistened on the waters, an eerie silence settled upon the flooded plains. A new issue had arisen as the day wore on, though no one addressed it directly—the smell.
When Joseph was a child, he’d played after hours with the local kids at the old primary school. The school grounds contained the only basketball court for miles, and, being so close to the council estate that most the children lived in, the spot became their regular hangout. One summer, a burst septic pipe oozed its fragrant odor across the court. The smell became so bad that the boys refused to play there for three days. Like a dead rabbit’s fart, Jimmy Byrne had said. Joseph was apt to agree.
The smell seeping from the lapping waters wasn’t as strong as the burst pipe, but this was only their second day. Come lunchtime tomorrow, things could get much worse. Though the earthy, rotten aroma had caked his nostrils and his sense of smell had somewhat acclimatized, he knew the longer they remained here, the worse it would become. Now, sitting on the rooftop with Ellie by his side, he turned to matters at hand.
“Not scared of it?” he asked. He didn’t need to elaborate. The fox was the only source in question. Though the animal was no longer eating, the spoils of its horrific feast lay glistening on the rooftop. Douglas’s corpse no longer contained a face. The head had been hollowed, like a half-eaten and rotten apple. And the fox slept, content.
“Part of me thinks I should look,” said Ellie. She pulled one of Esther’s old bathrobes tight around her. “I can’t explain it. Like I want to numb myself to it? Make it easier to take. Is that, like, really messed up?”
Joseph shrugged. “Nah, I get it. It’s like watching a horror movie or something. Desensitizing yourself.”
“Yeah. It’s still kind of fucked up, though.”
“Hmm.” Joseph shifted his position, his sore thigh now dulled to a slight throb. He stretched his legs before him and sighed. “Banged ourselves up pretty good today, didn’t we?”
“Y’can say that,” Ellie said with a laugh. “You’re not the one with a fanny pad stuck to your bloody head.”
“She thought on her feet, I’ll give her that.”
“True. And do you think…” Ellie brought her voice lower, almost to a whisper. “Do you think she’s losing it, Joe? Her attitude is all over the place. I’m worried she’s going to snap. Nice one minute, a statue the next, a crying mess the next.”
“Can’t blame her. We can’t begin to imagine what she’s going through. I’m surprised you’re holding up so well.”
“Tough as nails, Joe.” She flexed to show him her invisible bicep muscle and made a poof sound. “We will be fine. I think.”
“No thinking about it. We will be.” He cleared his throat before adding, “I was worried about you.”
Ellie stared at the roof between her feet, her face set.
“I really was.”
“I know,” she said.
“Hey. I don’t know what your Nana told you about me, half of it is probably true, but I do love you. I always have. And I know I’m not the best dad, okay? But I’m trying. And I’ll get better. If you’ll give me the chance.”
She looked at him then, her eyes glistening and catching the moon. “I know. And after my knock today, you know I’m only joking about it because…because I was terrified. I could’ve died. Not just, like, saying that in a joking way, I actually could have. And I’m lucky you were there.” Her words dissolved into tears and Joseph took his cue, wrapping an arm around her and pressing her against him. She returned the gesture, and that made him cry. Jesus, would the tears ever stop today?
Ellie eventually wiped her face and nodded to the fox. “It actually looks kind of cute when it’s sleeping, that’s mental, isn’t it? It just ate that auld lad’s face and I still think it’s kind of cute.”
“Now that’s proper messed up.”
“Yeah.”
“I think you should be okay to go to sleep now. It’s been a whole day. You feeling all right?”
“I am, but…can we just stay here a little while longer?”
“Of course.”
They only stirred a half hour later when something surfaced in the water.
 
*****
 
“That the car?”
Joseph stared into the waters above the front yard, where, by the property line, a series of bubbles broke the surface. His chest tightened.
“Must be.”
Automatically, he bit his nails, shifting from foot to foot.
“What’s in the boot, Joe?”
“Huh?”
“I’m not stupid.” Ellie stood and planted her hands on her hips, an action she had no idea made her look far too much like her mother. “When we were unloading our stuff, you barked at me for asking to help. What was in the boot of the car?”
“Your mother.”
Joseph quickly held out his palms. “Not like...Just her things. Your mother, to me at least. That’s what’s in there.”
Ellie’s brow furrowed. “What kind of things?”
Joseph sighed as he sat, still locked on the spot where the water wavered from the ripple. “There’s her favorite pair of jeans that she’d always wear. We weren’t rich, so these things were stuck on her legs five days of the week when we first started going out. There’s a blanket we’d wrap ourselves up in on Saturdays and watch movies under. You even joined us a couple of nights. Until you puked all over it and even though we put it through the washing machine three times, we swear the stink stuck around. Went into the cupboard for years after. There’s a sunflower cap, one of those big floppy ones, I don’t know what they’re called, from when she got into her head she wanted to garden. Lasted one summer and I always teased her over it. So I kept it.” He took a deep breath. “And there’s her ashes.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Ellie sat now, too. She surprised him when she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Nana said you were both bad parents.”
“Nana thought everyone who didn’t do things how she did them was awful.”
“Were you bad?”
“We were…trying our best. Maybe we were bad. I know that when we couldn’t afford to give you what we knew you wanted, what you needed. We were heartbroken to let you go with Nana. But it’s all we could do to keep you with a bed, clothes and a roof over your head until we worked things out.”
“But you never did.”
“No. No, we never did.” He sniffled. “Your mother got depressed. The apartment felt weird without you there. And we visited you all the time, but Nana’s constant scowling got on Sarah’s nerves. She couldn’t take it. But we knew having you back wasn’t an option. We just couldn’t afford it. So, Sarah, she got desperate. Took to gambling without me knowing in order to just try get more money somehow. I was working in a shop at that time, and rent was hard enough, never mind food or a child. And then she lost. And lost. And took to drinking more. And won. And spent the winnings on drink. And then met that fucking gobshite who got her killed. And…I slipped. For years. I couldn’t get my head right. And I didn’t want you to see me like that. Fucking shadow of a man, that’s all I was. You needed a good home, and as nagging as your Nana could be, she could provide for you, and would. And that’s what you needed. You didn’t need me.”
“But I thought about you.”
“You did?”
“Of course?” She glared at him as if he had two heads. Joseph never considered his daughter may have missed him. “Of course I thought about you both. All the time. But Nana would give out and say, ‘You don’t even know them, stop your whining,’ and that kind of thing. So I thought I was silly for missing someone I never even knew.”
“Well, I hardly knew you, but not a day went by I didn’t feel I had a hole in my chest. And we’re here now. I know you’re angry at me, and you have every right to be, but maybe we could try and start again when we get out of here. I’d like that.”
Ellie leaped to her feet. “Oh my god.”
“What? What is it? I didn’t say anything bad, did—”
“No, look.”
She pointed to the thing drifting in the water.
The skeletal remains of a horse.
The skull, just above the surface, looked like a decomposed and prowling alligator, two empty eye sockets crawling with maggots.
“Fucking hell,” Joseph said, getting to his feet. “That’s weird as shit.”
“It’s what I saw moving yesterday, Joe. That’s the thing. You were right. It was just my imagination playing up. It’s just a dead animal.”
Douglas would’ve said it was a Kelpie without batting an eyelash, Joseph heard Esther say. A water demon.
Ridiculous. Celtic legend. Nothing more.
The skeleton moved in a straight line, ever so slowly.
Looks like a dead horse…
And when something bobbed to the surface just by his feet, Joseph screamed.
CHAPTER SIX
 
 
“It’s a fucking baby.”
“No, it’s…” But Joseph couldn’t finish the sentence. The white and ragged bundle currently floating by the gutter did look like a child, but…
“What are you doing?”
Joseph held up a finger before sliding down the shingles to the waterline. As the small item began swirling with the current, he reached down and touched it. Hard. Cold. “Plastic.”
He scooped the thing as drops splashed the roof before turning it over. And came face to face with the frozen stare of a life-like doll.
“Ewwww,” Ellie cried, waggling out her wrists. “That’s creepy as fuck, man! Throw that thing back, it’s disgusting.”
The realness of the doll was disgusting, its too-blue eyes staring right at him. If he let his imagination go, Joseph could easily picture a crooked smile spreading on the abomination’s face before it lunged and gnawed his neck. A shiver crept up his arms.
“What’s it dressed in?” Ellie asked.
“Pyjamas, it looks like. Just a kid’s toy, Ellie. It’s not that bad.”
Something stirred, making them both jump. Esther’s sleep-drawn face appeared from the hole in the roof. Her hair stood in awkward clumps. “It’s not a kid’s toy,” she said in a monotone. “It belonged to Douglas and me.”
Silence overcame them as the strange statement settled. Esther (standing on two boxes they’d dragged from the opposite side of the attic) eased herself out and wiped sleep from her eyes. “I’m serious. That belonged to us. Overheard you two talking.”
“Sorry for waking you.”
Esther shrugged as she held out her hands for the doll. Joseph passed it without complaint. His skin rippled with goosebumps.
“Stinks now. Shame. He named it Sophie.”
“He what?”
“Yeah, honestly.” She stroked the doll’s head almost lovingly as a sad smile lifted her lips. “I told you, we had a son. Had. In 1984. We gave him up for adoption, traveled all the way to Manchester.”
“Why?” Ellie asked. Joseph almost scorned her but couldn’t deny he wanted answers, too.
“Because we were selfish,” she said, and her lips quivered. “We weren’t ready. Just starting our lives together, had barely enough to buy this farm. Douglas’s parents had left him with a good inheritance, but it was hardly enough to buy the place. Not with our measly wages. Couldn’t afford a child, and, to be honest, we were in what you’d call puppy-dog love. Only had eyes for each other. When I was nine months gone, we took the ferry to the UK and gave our child up for adoption. With the money we were offered, though it’s not something I want to talk about now, we were set for our new lives. And when we came home, about a month later, Douglas bought the doll. Saw I wasn’t happy, decided it could…help. That’s how his brain worked. Eccentric wasn’t the half of it. Anyway, it kind of did, in a way. I’ve always been the calloused one, but I took to Sophie. Used to buy her clothes, cuddle her when I got really down. And it helped. After a year, I didn’t need her anymore, and I was afraid of a neighbor or someone dropping by and seeing this thing, so we put her on top of the wardrobe in the spare room. I haven’t seen her in over thirty years.” She cocked her head slowly, rocking the toy as if it were alive. “My Sophie. I guess the flood left me something.”
Esther caught Joseph’s worried look and clarity snapped across her features. “I’m not losing my mind. I’m just surprised something good came from the waters. I’m not keeping her. You can lose that look. Here, watch, I’m letting her go.”
She knelt then, slipped the doll along the surface, and let go. It drifted spun like a corpse on the current, out past the barn and Tony Fenton’s. On Fenton’s roof, the fox sniffed the air, gauging the floating package before lying back down. And as the doll drifted by the old oak at the edge of the property, something splashed.
“The fuck was that?” Ellie yelled, gripping her shirt.
The skeletal remains of the horse drifted in the inky darkness, almost glowing in the moonlight. At the sight of the bones, Esther whined.
“Just a dead thing,” Joseph said, as if reading her thoughts. Though the skeleton did seem to move against the current…A trick of the light? Of course. Legends were not facts, no matter how hard tinfoil hat-wearing losers pushed.
And then came the sound again, somewhere in the darkness and—getting closer?
“Ellie, come here to me,” Joseph said instinctively, and the teen rushed to his side without argument. Even Esther closed the space between them, as if instinct told her, “safety in numbers.” Joseph squinted, but the secrets of the impenetrable darkness refused to be revealed.
Then came a voice, husky and dry. “Hello?”
Joseph’s chest tightened. Another person, out there in hills, in a boat, perhaps? Another survivor! Or…
“Help?” Ellie finished his thought. “Have they actually come for us? Oh, please. Please.”
“Hello!” Joseph yelled, cupping his mouth. “We’re over here!”
A beat passed, stretched like bubblegum. Then came the response, “Keep talking! I’ll find you.”
“Over here,” Joseph yelled. “We’re on the MacNamara’s roof, there’s three of us.”
“I know it,” said the man. “Just hold tight and I’ll be right over.”
The three of them exchanged a wide-eyed glance. Could this be for real? Had the government finally gotten a hand of the urban areas and decided to contribute to the countryside? Each passing second became torturous.
Then came the constant splashing, fast and harsh, and another question, “Who’s over there?”
Joseph looked to Esther. Her eyes bulged. “Oh, no,” is all she said.
“What? What is it?”
“I know who that is.”
“Who?”
“Kevin Person. Kathy’s caretaker.”
The earlier mention of the man, how he eyed Esther, how she’d taken a box cutter to the old lady’s house, came spiraling back, and Joseph’s grip on Ellie tightened.
He touched me…
“Joseph, he’s a bad man. This is not a rescue. This is a whole lot worse than a hungry fucking fox.”
“I asked who’s over there?” Came the voice again.
Splash, splash, splash…closer now.
“He could have a boat,” Joseph hissed. “There are three of us. He wouldn’t try anything. If we’ve got a way off of here, we need to risk his company. I don’t care how fucked up he is.”
“This is on you, Joseph,” Esther said in a dry tone, just as something appeared out by the trees. For a moment, Joseph couldn’t tell what he was seeing—frothing waters, and something too small to be a boat. But as the moments passed, and Kevin drifted beneath the moonlight, he saw more clearly. The man was perched atop a blue plastic barrel.
“The fuck?”
Kevin kicked his legs, his upper body pressed across the flotation device. His face was strained as he inched ever closer. On Tony Fenton’s roof, the fox darted behind the chimney.
“Here, help me get him up.”
But Esther and Ellie remained where they stood. Joseph understood, of course, but he shimmied down to the gutter and patiently waited. When Kevin came close enough, he reached grabbed the man’s wet wrist and dragged him onto the shingles.
Kevin panted, his face drenched in floodwater and sweat as his clothes dripped. He lay on his back a moment, one hand on his chest as he caught his breath. While he rested, Joseph got hold of the barrel and pulled it onto the roof. Empty, of course, but sealed. At least a 120-liter drum. The very type he used to stock out back of various bars around Dublin. He rapped it with his knuckle before bear-hugging it to his chest and carrying it to the hole in the roof. The slant would easily roll it back to the waters, but it’d be safe inside the attic. It fit, just about, and with the barrel inside the attic, he made his way back to Kevin.
“You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” Kevin said, still breathing heavily. “I’ve been out there for two days without food or water. I didn’t think I’d have it in me to get this far.” He sat up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Stink rolled off him in nauseous waves. “I’d just made it onto the roof when the waters hit. Sat there for hours thinking some help or something would arrive, you know? Then today, this fuckin’ drum came floating by. Think it came from up in the reservoir, and I had a feeling I’d be here a long time. Was going stir-crazy so I decided to set off. Waiting any longer, I wouldn’t have the energy one way or another, so I risked it. I’m so fucking happy to see you,” he said, spotting Esther and Ellie at the peak. “Where’s Doug?”
“He didn’t make it,” Esther said flatly, but her gaze gave her away. Kevin followed her line of sight to the chewed-up corpse on Fenton’s rooftop.
“Oh my god…”
“The fox got him,” Joseph said. “After he died. Pulled his body from the tree out there.”
“Where’s Kathy?” Esther snapped.
“Wheelchair, love. There was no way I could get her to the roof.”
“Don’t you fucking call me love.”
A chill passed through Joseph at the thought of the old woman frantically screaming for help while Kevin raced upstairs, just as the wave crashed through and flung her about the house like a sock in a washing machine. Had she drowned or did her skull smack the wall?
“Do you have any food?” Kevin asked. “Water? Please, I’m famished. I can’t stop shaking and I’ve got a headache like a bullhorn.”
“We—”
“Joseph,” Esther interrupted. She didn’t say any more.
A crooked smile spread across Kevin’s face and he gave a humorless laugh. “What? You’re not seriously considering letting me starve are you, Esther? You can’t hate me that much, I’ve never even done anything to you.”
“You know I don’t like you,” Esther said. “You know that all too fucking well, you weaselly little shitebag.”
Kevin blew a breath, casting Joseph a look that said, can you believe this shit, man?
“Hey,” Joseph said. “We could all use something to eat. We’ve got a box of cereal that’s still good. And if we don’t use the rest of the milk now, it’ll go bad in a couple of days stored how it is. Let’s have that. Get some energy in you. Then we’ll think of a way out of here.”
Kevin’s shoulders lost some tension. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said. “From the bottom of my heart. I swear you’ve just saved my life. I’m Kevin.”
“Joseph.”
“Nice to meet you, Joseph. And who’s this lovely little one?”
Joseph’s nostrils flared. His nails bit into his palms. “That’s my daughter. That’s all you need to know.”
Kevin scratched his bald head, smiled. “Alright, big lad. Relax. Just asking.”
“Did you see anyone else on your way over here?”
“Me? No.” He shrugged. “Just the Rourke brothers living way out at the base of the mountain, I’m sure Esther’s told you. And an English bloke up in the cottage a ways. I wasn’t anywhere near the Rourke’s but I’m guessing they’re both dead. That one up in the cottage, too. Doubt he had the good sense to get up on the roof before it happened. I think we’re the only ones. Any luck with phones?”
Joseph shook his head.
“Mine’s knackered, too,” Kevin said. “Water damage. Can’t get the thing to start. Think water’s gotten into the battery or somethin’. Fucked.”
“How are you a caretaker?” Ellie asked. A look of disgust contorted her features.
“What are you on about?”
“Well, you’re a bit of a cunt, aren’t you? Don’t seem very caring.”
“My qualifications say otherwise, love.”
“Any wanker can look good on paper. And call me love again and you’ll know what your own arsehole looks like.”
“Fuckin’ hell. The women here, man. Testy shit.”
“Easy,” Joseph warned. “You want something to eat, you apologize. And don’t talk shit to any of us, you hear me?”
“All right then,” Kevin said with a chuckle. “I’m sorry, yeah? Jaysus. How about a bit of Irish patriotism? Who knows how many of our own we lost over the last few days. Listening to the radio?”
Despite the hatred in his gut, Joseph wanted to hear this. “Not much. Heard the Shannon burst her banks.”
“The Shannon? Man, at least fifty dead in Dundrum. The shopping center flooded, they were trapped in the lower car park. Bridge came clean off in Wicklow Town, know the one down near the sea? Cars and a lorry crossing it, all into the drink they went. Last I heard, the whole place was evacuating. Chaotic on the news, they just couldn’t keep up. It’s a national emergency.”
“Putting it lightly.”
“Just saying, I really don’t think we’re getting helped anytime soon.”
Great. Another one.
“Look, can I have something to eat before I keel over?”
“Maybe you should,” Esther suggested.
When an awkward beat passed, Joseph slapped his arms down and made his way to the attack for the cereal. He felt Kevin’s gaze on him as he slipped down inside the house, just as Kevin whistled. “Have a space carved out down there? It warm? Jesus, you’s thought of everything.”
Thankfully, neither Esther nor Ellie made comment, and Joseph retrieved the soggy box of Cookie Crunch. With the plastic-wrapped cereal and the milk against his chest, he eyed the canned goods. He took the empties and placed them inside the now empty cereal box, a makeshift bin they could throw away later. Then he took another Christmas jumper and covered the full cans. Just in case. He returned to the roof.
“Mouth’s salivatin’ just looking at that,” Kevin said. “Can’t believe you have food. How’d you manage.”
“Swam in shit,” Ellie said.
“Not even going to ask what that means. You take a knock or something?” He dabbed his own head.
Ellie nodded. “Worse than it looks.”
They took turns scooping mouthfuls of cereal and chasing it with swallows of milk. No one spoke the entire time, though Kevin made a point to moan in appreciation each time he gulped a mouthful. The action made the small hairs on Joseph’s arms curl.
With their measly supper finished, they sat in the drizzle, shivering as the second night brought cooler temperatures. Joseph’s eyes stung and his face itched from stubble.
“Wonder what the place will look like when all this is said and done,” Kevin asked. “It’s like something from a movie. No poisonous creatures or extreme weather in Ireland. Until now. We’re completely unprepared for anything like this. Hearing the panic in the DJ’s voices when they’re staying professional and chattin’ to experts, frightening stuff.”
Joseph grunted in agreement.
“Someone was saying the Ha’penny Bridge collapsed.”
“What?”
“Swear to god. That’s what they said. Few minutes before everything went completely bonkers and I had to get out.”
“Jesus,” Esther said, raising a hand to her mouth. Even that news cut her personal problems. Joseph understood. The inner city landmark had been a staple in so many lives. The image was hard to fathom.
“Gang stuck on the roof of a Tesco in South Dublin, aerial shots on Twitter. Like that movie with the zombies from the 70s, remember, with the two fellas and the woman and the… Anyway, mayhem, I’m telling ya. Absolute mayhem. Entire towns and villages, gone, just like that.”
Joseph couldn’t muster a response. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself and Sarah crossing the Ha’Penny with Ellie in her pram, both carrying ice-creams with Dublin’s electrical atmosphere making their weekend perfect. Would the city ever be the same?
“Look,” Kevin said. “My barrel can carry one of us. Take it out, out, out, until that person reaches land. Bingo. Go get a rescue chopper over here for the others.”
“It’s a plan,” Joseph admitted. “Could work.”
Begrudgingly, even Esther nodded. Without the barrel, there wasn’t much else in the way of hope. Joseph considered trying to construct a flotation device himself, but with no buoyant materials, they were out of luck. At least this was something.
“Except,” Kevin said. He left the word like bait.
“Except what?”
“Look, this is going to sound mental, but have you’s noticed the horse?”
Joseph noted Esther’s twitch. “The skeleton?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s…like, I’m not scared, okay? It’s obviously just feckin’ bones, but shouldn’t it have been washed out to the base of the mountains or something? I saw it drifting past my place twice. Twice.”
“It’s been up here,” Joseph admitted. “Current didn’t take it.”
“It’s weird, it’s weird as all fuck, but I wasn’t letting it stop me from getting on the barrel. Just had to mention it.”
When no one spoke, Esther took a deep breath. “I think I best go back inside. I can’t stay out here. Need to get dry. And we need our rest.”
“Good idea,” Kevin said. “I might as well join you.”
Esther’s eyes burned fire. “You come anywhere near me and I’ll slit you ear to ear. Do you hear me?”
“Well I’m not bloody well sleeping out on the roof, now am I? I’ve already probably caught something, and if I’m taking the barrel out, I’ll need my strength to kick all the way to land. I’m sleeping inside the attic with you lot.”
“Joseph?” Esther said. “A word?”
Joseph eyed the man. “I’m not leaving Ellie here.” He nodded to his daughter. “Come on.”
Ellie stood and joined them as they crossed to the chimney for privacy. Kevin crossed his hands over his knees and blew a breath, as if this were just the silliest thing in the world. Joseph hated him already.
“He can’t stay with us,” Esther hissed. She pulled a cigarette and lit up before hugging herself protectively. “I’m not messing around here, Joe. That man stole from Kathy more times than I can count, I’m not lying, and he’s…he’s sick. There’s something wrong in his brain. Coy little shitebag, that’s what he is. He knows how to turn on the charm at the right times and what he can get away with. With Kathy, he was good as gold.” She took a shaky drag from her cigarette, blew pillars of smoke from her nostrils. “When he knew it was just me and him in her living room, he changed. He knows when to be disgusting, like he can turn it on and off at will. And how he’s acting now? He knows help’s not coming. He’s going to try something. And, Joe, we are to keep Ellie close at all times.”
The very thought made Joseph want to vomit. His heart sped. “What do you suggest I do though, Esther? Fling him off the roof like a bad catch? I don’t like the man, he’s fucking despicable, but he is right about the possibility of using the barrel to make it out to land.”
“He just stopped here because he got tired. Saw a possibility of food and maybe…me. Or Ellie. That’s all this is. When you least expect it, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried something…you should take the barrel.”
“I can’t swim,” Joseph said.
“It’s just a matter of kicking your legs, you don’t have to swim exactly. At least we’d know you’d get help once you made it. I’d feel a lot better with that.”
“Then you two are stuck here with him on the roof,” Joseph said. “And you really think he’d be that much of a dick not to send help once he reaches land?”
“I think he’ll have demands.”
“What kind of person would do that?”
“Kevin. That’s the kind of person that would do that.”
Joseph chewed his lip. “Well, let’s just see how this plays out.”
She took a deep drag before flicking the cigarette to the flood. It hissed as it hit the dark surface. “Freezing out here, we need to get inside.”
“We’ll deal with him when our heads are more clear,” Joseph said. The chill worked into his sore bones, reminding him of camping trips many moons ago. At least back then, there was the promise of a warm bed and a shower come daybreak. The uncertainty of what morning would bring left him haggard and fearful.
He rose his voice for Kevin’s sake. “Let’s sleep. You’ll be bunking near me. Understand? We’ll decide on a plan when we’re rested.”
“Understood,” Kevin said with a smile. “I’ve almost forgotten what if feels like to be indoors.”
 
*****
 
Joseph awoke as the fiberglass beneath him dipped from pressure. A footstep. Light and calculated.
He burst upright. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Kevin held the overhead beams for support, his bare feet clenching the timber below. He looked over his shoulder and gave Joseph a look as if butter wouldn’t melt. He wore a bright orange sweatshirt, one of Douglas’s old throwaways—much to Esther’s dismay. But he’d certainly catch pneumonia if they didn’t get him warmed. And they needed him. Or, at least, his barrel. “Goin’ out to take a piss, man. Relax.”
Before him, Ellie and Esther slept deeply. The teen’s mouth lolled open, just as she’d slept as a child.
She still is a child, part of his mind reasoned. Not all grown-up just yet. Not yet.
“Use the hatch,” Joseph grumbled. This wasn’t a warning to the man, Joseph just didn’t know if he could keep his eyes open for more than a few minutes. “It’s right there.”
“It’s clammy as hell in here. I’m itchin’ like mental from the shite all over the place. How are you used to it? Look, back in a second, calm down.” He shook his head as he eased himself onto the cardboard boxes and pulled himself out onto the roof. A beat passed, and then came a phrase that made fear lick Joseph’s spine. “Jesus fucking Christ…”
“What? What is it?” Joseph was up, crossing the attic as the girls stirred. He hoisted himself atop the cardboard boxes and poked his head outside, where cold wind whipped his face and rain batted his skin. It almost felt like his natural state by now.
“The auld lad is gone,” Kevin said, pointing to Tony Fenton’s roof. “And so’s the fox.”
For a moment, all Joseph could do was stare. Tony Fenton’s roof sat empty, save for a crimson smear where the fox had torn into Douglas’s face. The rain was currently busy removing evidence.
“Where the fuck did he go?”
Joseph couldn’t answer. In the attic, Esther called up, “What’s the problem?”
“Go back asleep,” he said. “It’s nothing.”
But the old woman made him jump when she tapped his hip. “Out of the way, let me up.”
Joseph moved aside and allowed her some room. She instantly locked eyes on the empty roof—that spot had become her default viewing point. “W-where is he?” The panic in her voice increased with each word. “Where’ Douglas?”
She raised a leg, trying to get out of the roof without help, but Joseph caught her foot and boosted her. She didn’t even seem to notice. After scrambling to her feet, she hobbled to the edge of the roof, almost going over. “Where’s he gone?” she asked, spinning around as if blaming Joseph and the caretaker. “Where’s my husband?”
“I…I don’t know,” Joseph said. It’s all he could think of. “The fox is gone, too.”
“Maybe the fox saw me with the barrel and decided it was a good idea, used the body the same way, eh?”
Not even Joseph saw the punch coming. The old woman could move when she wanted.
CHAPTER SEVEN
 
 
“Me fuckin’ tooth’s gone.” Kevin speech slopped from his swollen lip. He dabbed at the string of saliva on his chin. “Keep swallowing globs of copper here, think I’m going to pass out.”
“At least we won’t have to listen to your feckin’ bullshit anymore,” Esther said, now sitting with Ellie by the kitchen table. They were back inside, Kevin with a balled-up old sock in his mouth to help with the bleeding. In any other situation, it would’ve been comical—the sock was pink. One of Douglas’ old favorites, Esther said.
“I seriously think I’m going to pass out.”
“Good,” Esther said. “Do it already. Sick of listening to ya.”
Joseph adjusted himself against a beam. “It’s strange. There’s no way that fox just up and left. We’d have heard something. It’s the cow all over again.”
“Except it’s my husband,” Esther spat. “My husband disappeared. I don’t give two shits about the fucking fox.”
“No. Sorry, Esther. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“While you all yell at each other,” Kevin said, “Would you do it over there? I need to fucking rest. My face feels like its twice as big as when I got here.”
Joseph shook his head in annoyance but left the man be and made his way to the girls. He perched himself atop the timber frame and pressed his spine to the wood. Not the coziest position, but the attic didn’t cater to luxury. Though they needed rest, the disappearance of Douglas and the fox kept them alert, the mystery niggling like a termite.
“Something took them,” Esther said, more to herself. She stared at the pot gathering water beneath the hole in the roof. “There’s absolutely no way that fox swam away with Doug. Jesus, it could barely get him to the roof in the first place. You saw it struggling. And why would it even try? It had him there. Doesn’t make sense.”
Joseph couldn’t answer. The questions left his head aching and his body drained. He wanted out of this ordeal. He’d even take unemployment back in that awful Ballymun flat. Things were getting very strange around here.
“Maybe we should chance this now,” Kevin called. He sat upright and pulled the sock from his mouth before spitting. “Fuck it. Not like I can sleep with me fuckin’ face throbbing like this, anyway. Something to distract myself with. I’ve had a good kip, I’m rested. I can do it.”
“Yeah?” Joseph stood, his back popping. What he would give for a bed right about now. “If you think you can make it, maybe we should.”
“It’s almost light enough out,” he said. “Water’s going to be mad cold but fuck it. Here, help me with the barrel.”
Joseph crossed the beams and caught the barrel in a bear-hug, carrying it to the hole as Kevin began to climb out. Esther called, “Promise you’re going to send help.”
“Of course I’ll send help,” he said, seated atop the cardboard. “I’m not a complete arsehole. Here. Hand it to me when I’m out.”
Joseph waited for Kevin to scamper onto the roof before passing up the barrel. As he wiped his hands and listened to Kevin roll the barrel into position, he noted another noise—something rustling in the man’s pockets.
“What’s that?”
Kevin’s voice, further away. “What’s what?”
“That sound, what was it?”
Then Esther yelled. “Joseph, the cans, he took the food!”
“Hey!”
Joseph scrambled atop the cardboard, kicking a box over. He dragged himself into the dull, wet light as he shoved to his feet. Kevin raced for the gutter and leaped from the roof. He crashed into the water belly-first, clutching the barrel for dear life. The splash rippled as he began kicking, just as Esther and Ellie climbed from the attic.
“Hey!” Joseph yelled, his instincts telling him to leap but his logic holding out. Then Esther was beside him, panting.
“That fucking weasel…”
“Esther, no!”
The old woman tore a shingle from the roof, pulled back her arm—and let it fly.
Time stood still.
Joseph knew what was coming, and the moment lasted an eternity.
The projectile flipped through the air in a vicious arc. Though she’d missed the fox with multiple tries, nothing was wrong with the woman’s aim. The shingle whacked Kevin on the head. He grunted. And slipped from the barrel. Just a grunt, nothing else. He disappeared in less than a second. And a pink cloud followed the bubbles back to the surface.
The barrel drifted off on the current.
“We can’t let it go!” Ellie cried. Joseph grabbed her just as she made to jump.
“Stop it!”
Ellie kicked and bucked in his arms, struggling to get free. “Joe, if that fucking drifts off, we’re stranded! Let me go!”
“I can’t! Just stop it!”
Eventually the teen relaxed as the barrel continued turning, floating out to the tree line. The rain picked up, hissing as it slapped their faces and shoulders.
“I could’ve gotten it,” Ellie said, wrenching herself free and adjusting the over-sized jumper. She threw Joseph a look of pure hatred. “I’m a good swimmer, I would’ve made it.”
“Maybe. But I can’t risk it, okay? I can’t risk you doing that.”
“Our food.”
“We won’t need it, help will be here when…” His words faded as a soggy cereal box bobbed to the surface, spilling empty tuna cans.
“He didn’t get our food,” Joseph said. “That’s our empties. I put them in the box just in case. Covered our full cans with a jumper. Idiot must’ve just seen the cans in the dark, thought he’d pull a fast one.”
“All that,” Ellie said. “All that for empty cans of food and a soggy cereal box.”
Joseph’s mind refused to accept the notion. Could someone be that self-centered?
“You killed him,” Ellie said then, turning to the old woman.
Esther didn’t so much as flinch. “I’ve fantasized about doing that for years. And, to be honest with you, I don’t give a shit. He had no intention of getting help. He was getting a right chuckle out of knowing we’d starve here while he made off with some food and kicked his way to dry land. I promise you. And no one will ever know what I did. Will they?”
Joseph didn’t know if the remark was meant as a simple comment or a threat. Either way, he and Ellie both shook their heads.
“Good,” Esther said. “This nightmare is bad enough. And…do you smell that?”
The change of topic threw Joseph, but his nose wrinkled all the same. He did smell something, a brown, decayed stench oozing from the disturbed floodwaters. The contents of the bowl-valley were fermenting into a rancid stew. Decomposing farm animals, rotting food, and of course, corpses. Two days in, and the dead had finally festered.
“Oh, Jesus.” Ellie paled as her throat clicked. “I think I’m going to…”
She stumbled up the roof, rushed down the far side and then came a wet splash. Esther wrinkled her nose. “That’s only going to get worse by the hour.”
Joseph slapped his neck as something landed there. A midge.
“Ah, fuck.” He looked at the mushed dot on his palm. “Mid-September. You know what that means.”
“And the smell’s just going to attract more of them.”
Joseph hated the ticklish little bugs even in the city, how they formed living clouds in the suburbs come summertime. But he knew from experience the bugs in the countryside collected ten times worse. Come sundown, the place would be swarming. And the hole in the roof would only lead to nips in the night.
“We’ve got a full day ahead of us, but come dusk, they’re going to swarm us. We’ll need to get the kitchen table out and put it across the hole. It seems heavy enough to hold. Otherwise, we’re going to get eaten alive. And every night after if no help is coming.”
The concept had slowly slithered its way into his brain throughout the night. Perhaps help wasn’t coming. If Kevin’s words were true, the rest of the country had succumbed to the same fate as the Wicklow Mountains. He thought of the Glendalough lakes, of Vartry reservoir and Loch Dan. All that water, filling places it’d never been. And that was just Wicklow.
“He hit his head,” Esther said out of the blue, popping Joseph’s wandering thoughts. “He never made it to the roof at all. Just got swept away by the floodwaters with Katey. Must’ve cracked his head off the wall when he got thrown around by the waves. We never so much as saw him. Did we, Joseph?”
“No.”
Ellie made her way back while wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
“Did we see him, Ellie?”
“No,” she said. “We didn’t.”
“That’s right. Now let’s get the roof patched up and get inside before we’re eaten alive. I can already feel them on my neck.”
The rain sheeted down then just as thunder boomed in the distance, announcing the start of another day with the flood.
By the barn, Joseph spied the white skeletal remains of the horse, still drifting like a prowling gator. Not on its side, but upright. Working against the current.
 
*****
 
“Open the hatch.”
Joseph did as instructed as Esther dunked another pot-load of water. Joseph’s arms ached, his clothes glued to his skin from sweat and rain. They’d spent the day enlarging the hole in the roof, just big enough to fit the kitchen table lengthwise, and now it sat across the gap, though rain still drooled from one side. The fiberglass beneath the hole sagged now, a dark halo spreading to the rest of the attic. With water damage accumulating, he feared there’d be no attic left at all come a few days time. Help had to arrive.
Esther slid the pot back beneath the dribble of water.
“How much can it rain, in all seriousness?” she asked. “I’m getting cabin fever.”
“Lots, apparently.” Joseph’s stomach cramped then, aching from a lack of food. He scratched his chin, itching from stubble. “Mouth tastes awful. I’d kill for a toothbrush.”
“Or a steak,” Ellie lamented. “With mash and peppercorn sauce.”
“Stop.” Esther closed her eyes, her fragile hands working around her stomach. “I’m so hungry I think I’m going to throw up. Ever feel that?”
“Have it right now. What have we got left to eat?”
They worked through their inventory: a half-stale loaf of bread, three more cans of tuna, six cans of peaches, and packs of raw sausages and bacon that looked to be turning already.
“Tuna sandwiches, I suppose,” he said. Wash it down with some water from the tank. About time we tested that. We’ve still got some food, thank god.”
Esther scoffed. “Not thanking any deity who’d do such a thing to my property. But I agree. A sandwich sounds delicious.”
They ate in silence, gathered near the hatch as downpour battered the roof. The salty fish stung Joseph’s cheeks, his stomach coaxing him to gobble the thing down in a single bite, but he restrained and took his time. The lack of butter dried his mouth, but again, he fought the wolf it down. They’d need to conserve their energy. For what, Joseph wasn’t quite sure.
Just in case…
“How’s you’re head?” he asked, nodding to Ellie.
The teen shrugged and prodded at the pad slapped to her skull. She winced. “Tender, but it seems okay. Definitely dried out.”
“We’re going to have to change that pad. It’s been a day.”
“Can I finish eating first?”
The fact she’d asked made Joseph smile. For the past few weeks, living together in the cramped Dublin apartment, the young woman just did as she pleased, thank you very much. She hadn’t asked him for so much as a hug since she’d been—what Sarah called—an ankle-biter.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason.”
“Stop it. It’s creepy.”
“Okay.” He chuckled and popped the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth before dusting off his hands. Then he stood and cracked his back. “I have to go see a man about a horse.”
“You what?”
“It’s an old saying. Never mind.”
“Even I haven’t heard that one from the mouth of anyone under sixty,” Esther said.
“Sorry. Guess I’m old-fashioned.”
Joseph made his way back outside, pushing aside the soaking kitchen table once he was atop the boxes. Slipping out onto the wet roof, he kicked the table back into place before making his down to the gutter and unzipping. The sun had dropped about an hour ago, and the stink had come full force as the hours morphed the flood to a soup. As his loins tightened and urine frothed the waters, he sighed and shivered, thankful for the release. Then something groaned from beneath the film-like surface. A muted rumble that he felt in the soles of his feet. Even the girls heard it.
“What the hell was that?” Ellie called up.
Vulnerability overrode his senses. Joseph suddenly wished he wasn’t standing on the edge of the roof with his dick out.
“I don’t know,” he called back. Come on, come on!
His bladder refused his request and continued to empty, despite the fact that something big was moving. Coming his way.
“Oh, fuck it!” Joseph shoved his junk away and re-zipped as he stumbled from the edge of the roof. The thing, deep, deep down and barely visible, crawled like a hulking oil spill, just a suggestion of shape. It moved slowly. Towards the house. Then came a thump.
Joseph spilled onto his ass as icy water sponged the backside of his jeans. Ellie yelped from inside the attic.
Whatever it was, it remained right there in front of him, deep down. His heart punched his ribs as a scattering of bubbles broke topside.
“Joe, what’s going on out there?” Esther said.
“It’s…it’s…” he carefully peered across the gutter, moonlight catching light of the object. “It’s my car?” he called.
A beat passed, then came the creak of timber as the girls made their way out.
“What? How can it be your car?” Esther hugged herself as she made her way across the roof. She followed his line of sight across the gutter, her brow creased. Moonlight glinted off chrome. “That doesn’t make sense? It was out there by the trees. The current’s flowing the completely opposite direction, there’s no way it moved by itself.”
“Unless it dislodged from a tree or something? If the handbrake was off?”
“Was the handbrake off?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Then what could’ve moved it? Because the waters surely didn’t.”
Ellie shivered. “I’m scared,” she said, barely above a whisper. “It stinks out here. It’s getting dark. And I don’t want to be outside anymore. Can we please just go inside until the morning? When we’ve got some proper light?”
“Sure,” Joseph said, and turned just as something else broke the surface. All three jumped, grabbing each other and almost losing their footing. The thing bobbed on the water, ripples echoing from its form. A body.
“Oh, fuck…” Ellie said. And Joseph could only nod.
The bloated woman lay face-down, skin ashen and slimy. A matting of blond hair swirled around her head, clothes colorless and shapeless.
“Kathy,” Esther cried. “That’s her. Oh, the poor woman.”
The flood carried her body to the right, out past Fenton’s place and toward the unknown. The three watched without a word in morbid fascination—just like the car crash he and Ellie passed on their way down here. In another lifetime.
The body thumped against the brickwork of Fenton’s building. And caught on the wall.
“She’s going to stay there,” Esther said, almost to herself. “Rotting day by day. She’ll attract more midges. Flies. She’ll start to smell.”
“We can’t move her,” Joseph said.
“This is my Hell.” She almost chuckled at that, but Joseph sensed no humor. “Watching my husband being eaten alive. Kevin surviving. Seeing Kathy rot as the days go by. No help coming. No help coming, there’s no help…”
She cradled her head as tears flowed, and Ellie, God bless her, wrapped an arm around the woman’s shoulders.
“We’ll get out of here. Of course we will. I’m so sorry you have to see this.”
Joseph didn’t think exposure to the corpse would do Ellie any psychological good, and if they settled back to normality--when they settled back to normality—he’d need to find her the best councilor this side of the Atlantic. One for himself, too.
“I should’ve just killed him,” Esther said, sniffling as she looked to the stars through the rain. They faded into existence from light years away. “Jesus. I should’ve just sliced his throat right there and then. We’d still have the barrel. One of us would’ve been able to take it and get to land. I’m so fucking stupid.”
“We didn’t know,” Ellie tried.
“I did know. I should’ve known. That man was good for nothing and I should’ve put my foot down and recognized his patterns. He was never going to change. I’m an idiot. We could be off of here.”
“It’s in the past,” Joseph said. “What’s done is done. We just need to come up with a new strategy. Anything at all in the attic that’ll help?”
“Clothes and pots and unless you want to kill time, Douglas’s old paperbacks. Stories. Nothing else.”
Hatching a plan would at least distract them, keep them all occupied long enough for their sanity to remain in check. As frivolous a task as it seemed. His mother always said the Devil made work for idle hands.
“What’s in the barn?” he asked, voice perking at the realization they’d never checked.
“Winter service truck and bags of gritter.” Esther took a quivering breath, steeling her nerves. “Douglas got it in over a decade ago when the council refused to come this far when they salted the roads. A bad snow hits and we’d be stuck up this lane for weeks. Invested in the service truck to grit the roads ourselves. Took donations from locals to buy the bags of road salt. Just a rusting hulk of junk in there now.” She sighed, pulling her attention away from Kathy’s corpse. “I don’t know. Some rakes for the hay. Some stretches of rope. An old saddle. Nothing useful, even if we could get down into the barn itself.” She slapped her hands down. “I should’ve killed him.”
Joseph shook his head. He’d had enough shoulda-coulda-woulda for one day. “Yeah, well, things didn’t pan out how we wanted from the get-go, Esther. We can’t do anything about that.”
“If you weren’t here, I would’ve.”
“If I wasn’t here, you’d be dead!”
“How’d you figure that, you—”
“Guys!”
Ellie pointed unsteadily to the dark waters. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession as droplets fell from her nose.
“What is it?” Joseph asked.
“She’s gone.”
“Who?”
“Look.”
Kathy’s bloated corpse not longer sat pressed against Fenton’s property. The house was empty.
Joseph opened his mouth to assure the current had just dislodged her, but then Ellie said, “I was watching the whole time. She just slipped down.” Joseph noted the lack of intonation in her voice now. Shock. Then her lips quivered. “Like something took her.”
Esther’s eyes widened. “See? You fucking see? Something took my Douglas. Something took that cow, and that fucking fox. I’m not going crazy. I’m not.”
“She just went under,” Ellie said, her voice ghosting with disbelief. “Slowly. Feet…feet first.”
A shiver worked its way through Joseph as he scanned the flood, suddenly getting the urge to never step foot near the gutter again. Images of the horse plagued his thoughts. The Kelpie. The stories.
“Could something have merged with the waters when the levels were high?” he asked. “Like how a dolphin was spotted in the Liffey a while back, remember that? Or that time they found a whale in the Thames?”
“I think we’d notice a whale, Joseph.”
“I just mean something like that. Something from the zoo, maybe?”
“We’d see a fin if it was a dolphin, they’re not exactly quiet. Can count ourselves lucky we don’t get sharks in Ireland, either. At least not dangerous ones. No Jaws around here. But there is something down there, I’m sure of it.”
A phrase came to him then: mass hysteria. Stories of paranoia leaping from one person to the next, spreading like a virus until no one knew what to believe anymore. It happened all the time.
“Look!”
Joseph and Esther followed Ellie’s gaze, and spotted the halo of blond hair dancing beneath the grimy surface. Being dragged. Out to the foliage at the edge of the property.
Esther’s voice cracked when she asked, “What has her? What could be doing that?”
The bloated body, though itself white, had something bigger and brighter wrapped around it. Something cutting the waters with little to no effort. Something moving far too fast. It slipped from beneath the moonlight and out into the fog-shroud trees.
“What the hell was that?” Joseph heard himself hiss. He moved to Ellie and placed an unsteady arm around her shoulders. She shook, too, and her hand found his.
“I have no idea. But there’s no way I’m taking my eyes off those trees until the sun rises.”
And so they stood. And waited.
All the while, Joseph thought of dead horses and Celtic legend. Of lost folklore and newfound nightmares.
CHAPTER EIGHT
 
 
“Think it’ll work?” Ellie asked, stretching. Her bleary eyes told Joseph she’d slept just as much as him, perhaps the entirety of twenty minutes. Each time he’d drifted off, he saw Kathy’s corpse being dragged out to the trees by something powerful. The three of them had stuck to their word and watched the woodlands until the sun painted the sky bright orange and birds called their morning song. And nothing had stirred. Though the wind picked up and the fog slowly cleared, no trace of the body or its captor appeared. They’d retired soundlessly, though Joseph knew the girls’ minds were as full of fear as his own. He never mentioned the legend of the Kelpie to Esther, for his daughter’s sake, though he didn’t need to. The old woman’s eyes told him of her identical thoughts.
“Gotta try something,” he said now, keeping his mind on the task at hand. His shaking fingers worked a single barb, flattening the metal coil into a straight shard. He’d taken the barb from a tangle of fence that lay stuck against the back end of the gutter, tossed there by the floodwaters on the initial wave. A matting of sheep fur was stuck to it originally—what had caught his eye—but after tossing off the soggy cotton, the sharp barbed wire had given him an idea.
“Pass me your dental floss?”
Ellie handed over the roll reluctantly.
“We won’t be here forever. One of us gets a toothache, I’m sure Esther will be all too happy to knock us a punch in the jaw, anyway.”
He popped the lid of the floss and the scent of peppermint teased his nose. Rolling out a spool, he recalled his scout days—while they’d lasted. He’d been caught smoking with Alan Meyer and the two were sent home on the Saturday morning of a weekend trip. Maybe Ellie inherited more of his traits than he liked to admit. Either way, an improved clinch knot would do the trick now, provided his hands could stop shaking.
“How’re you going to get that barb onto the line?” Ellie asked, hands on her hips.
Joseph twirled the straightened piece of metal about his dirty thumb and forefinger. “First, we’ve gotta get a hoop going on the top end. That way, I can thread the dental floss through to keep it on the line. I don’t even know if this will work, but it’s worth a shot. Here.”
He pressed the top end of the barb against the hard shingles, one palm beneath it. Then he pressed. The metal bit into his palm but he gritted his teeth and kept going. The metal began to bend. “Hah!”
Ellie cocked her head, amused at the act. Eventually—praise Mother fuckin’ Mary—the barb coiled. In his throbbing, red palm now lay a straight barb with a hooped end. “Holy shit. See that? How the metal meets back around? That little hoop might just be strong enough to hold the dental floss, it’ll do in a pinch. Now we just need to bend the other side around to make our hook. Wanna stand on it?”
Ellie chuckled. “Me? I’d fuck it up.”
“You won’t, honestly. Just press your heel on it and we’ll get it hooked around, I’ll hold this end.”
Joseph lay the metal half in his palm. The act of doing something productive served to sever some of his apprehension about what they’d seen, and he relished the relief. “Press your foot on it and I’ll bend it up. Go on.”
Ellie shook her head but did as instructed, her muddy shoe finding the barb. “Here, like that?”
“Exactly. Now, put your weight on it.”
As Ellie pressed down, Joseph pushed up, countering her weight. The barb bent.
“Would you look at that?” Ellie said, genuine amusement tracing her voice. “It’s a fishing hook.”
“Yes, it fucking well is.” Joseph’s own excitement fought to be contained, and he studied the crude tool with fascination. With daylight, the nightmares of just a few hours ago felt very distant indeed.
“What gave you the idea for this?” Ellie asked.
“Came out to have another look at the trees this morning when you two were still asleep. Saw a fish dart past the gutter. Looked like a brown trout. Sizable enough. Quick. When I was a kid, my dad took me fishing out here in Wicklow, actually. Trout are pretty common down here. With the rivers busted, they’re probably all over the place. I imagine the bodies are getting pecked apart as we speak.”
The statement, surprisingly, no longer turned his stomach. Just a natural fact of life.
“And for the dental floss, I really have no idea if it’s going to hold, we’ll just have to try it and see. It’s an old story I’ve heard fishers talk about in pubs. Someone said they saw videos of it working on Youtube but I never checked.”
“YouTube,” Ellie said. “I can’t believe I haven’t been online in three days.”
“Back to me, here. This is worth a shot. My dad used a plastic bait, bright red, they were, disguised to look like fish eggs. Worked really well. We’ll need something to use as a lure, I was thinking—”
“My pencil sharpener for school is orange?”
Joseph smiled. “You read my mind.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“And grab the bread while you’re down there.”
As Ellie raced for the attic, Joseph’s chest burst with pride. Why couldn’t they have had a few days down here without the terror? Just a couple of days to connect and do things like fish and go for walks, things parents do with their children. Then again, he supposed they’d spent the better part of two months in Ballymun cooked up in an apartment together, and besides the odd movie at the weekend, they’d hardly spoke. Did it really take a disaster to force them together? He didn’t know, but right now, in this second, he could appreciate the momentary respite. He doubted they’d get another chance like it.
After some banging around, Ellie hopped back out onto the roof, careful to place the kitchen table back in place. Esther still slept soundlessly inside, occasionally twitching from whatever tortured visions her worn-out mind projected.
“Here, look, will this do?” Ellie unzipped her pencil case and rummaged through pens and markers before pulling out a bright orange sharpener.
“Oh, that’s perfect. Here.”
He accepted the plastic piece and smacked it against the roof.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting…out…the razor. So it doesn’t accidentally split our dental line. Plus, having a razor blade will come in handy when we catch that fish. I don’t much like the idea of asking Esther for her box cutter. She could get paranoid.” He said it as a joke, giving a wiggle of his eyebrows for Ellie’s amusement. And, oh, the girl actually giggled. He fought back the tears as he banged the sharpener again, cracking its face.
“This should be good.” He sniffled and wiped his face with his arm as he twisted the single screw keeping the razor in place. Loose now, easily removed.
“Are you crying?”
“No,” Joseph said with a wave of the hand. “I’m grand. Just tired is all.”
A warm smile lifted her cheeks as she studied him, really looking at him now. Joseph thought it was the first time in his life his daughter had ever looked at him in that way. Like a dad, he thought. That’s what she’s seeing right now.
“Look, it’s done,” he said, his voice cracking. The razor had come free, leaving a lump of easily threaded, bright orange plastic. “Let’s see how it does.”
He shoved the dental floss through the plastic shell, then threaded the line through the hooped end of the barb. After licking his thumb and forefinger—which tasted of mud and salt—he tied an improved clinch knot. Even though it took three attempts, the dental floss didn’t seem all that flimsy. His shock couldn’t be contained.
“You didn’t expect that to work, did you?” Ellie asked.
“Have to admit, I didn’t. But it looks all right, doesn’t it?”
And it did. At a glance, at least.
“What about a rod?”
“No need. Can just work the line around my hand, might even lend me a little more control. Plus it’ll make my stinking hands smell like peppermint.”
“I can’t wait to have a shower. I’ve forgotten what hot water even feels like.”
“Don’t get me started,” Joseph said, and grunted as he shoved to his feet. The murky flood wavered with a scummy top layer, the smell already seared into his nostrils. Over the course of the morning, two more bodies had surfaced, a yellow-jacketed reservoir worker, and a tartan-shirted bald man. Both had the sickly white of the dead, and their bloated bodies matched poor Kathy’s decay rate. Floating lumps, nothing more, just bobbing on the surface. Whatever had taken the old woman did not reappear, and though he kept an eye on the far-off woodlands, Joseph had a feeling Kathy’s captor would be subdued for some time. Even the largest animal would be full after an entire human corpse.
Stop thinking about it. Keep Ellie calm.
Joseph grabbed the bread packet and shook out the heel. Even in the direst of situations, nobody had eaten it. He tore a lump free and worked the dough into a ball before hooking it on the barb. “Do they like bread?” Ellie asked.
“Not normally, no, but we’re not working under normal conditions. I’m just hoping, with the reservoir close by, there would’ve been ducks. If there were ducks, maybe the staff feed them some bread from their sandwiches on lunch break. If they did that, the fish could get a taste for it. We’re talking a lot of ifs here. A worm would work best, but, well, we don’t exactly have a lot of earth to go digging through right now.”
“Worms? What about the fat from one of the rashers? That meat’s no good to us. But it could be good for the fish?”
“Ellie, you’re a genius.”
Truly, she’d outdone him. Bacon fat, it was brilliant. She returned with the packet and Joseph ripped the plastic with his teeth. He worked his fingers into the meat and tore free a sliver of fat from the side of the rasher. Like an anemic worm. Perfect. After threading the fat onto the barb, he worked the line around his fist. “That was seriously good thinking, Ellie. Five gold stars for you. I mean…what? What’s the problem?”
“I’ve never seen a body before.”
The words knocked Joseph’s mood, but he steeled his position. “Good. Didn’t expect you had.”
“Even at Nana’s funeral, I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. During, like, the wake, I mean.”
“Again, that’s good. Don’t feel bad about it. They never look like themselves. And, at least for me, when I saw…when I saw your mother, that’s all I saw for weeks and weeks after. Not her anymore. I saw that imitation in the casket. They didn’t do her makeup like she did. Her hair, either. Looked like someone trying to be Sarah. That’s all I saw for ages.”
Sarah, stone white and dead. People crying. Hands patting his shoulder. Yelling.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, I mean for all of this. I’m old enough to know you’ve done what you could, I just didn’t want to believe it after Nana told me so many bad things about you.”
“Well, it’s in the past, Ellie. Water under the bridge, so to speak.”
“Dad jokes. Great.”
“Better get used to ‘em.” They shared a look, one that needed no words. Forgiveness. Understanding. A rook cawed from the trees.
“Hey.” Though Joseph left a length of floss dangling and readied to cast, he stopped. “How about you do this?”
“Me? I’ve never fished before in my life. Except for drink.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ah, Joe, come on.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m just still surprised kids are calling it fishing, that was our name for it.”
“Didn’t patent it.”
“Probably should have…where?”
“Where what?”
“Where did you go fishing?”
Fishing, of course, was the product of being young and stupid. Approaching adults in the car park and giving them a twenty in return for booze. Usually a cheap bottle of vodka or whiskey. Oh, Irish pastimes.
Ellie’s lips curled in a smile. “Dun Laoghaire. The Tesco there. Stood outside on Saturdays around lunchtime. Only a handful of times we did it. It was Jenny’s idea.”
Joseph didn’t know Jenny, but he imagined Nana didn’t like her too much. “Did your Nana know?”
“What? No! Nana would’ve killed me.”
“Then…thanks for telling me.” He chuckled at that.
Feels more comfortable telling me secrets than you, Mom. One point for Dad.
“Here, take this.”
Ellie gingerly held out a hand as Joseph wrapped the floss around her palm.
“Grip it there. That’s it. Nothing to it.”
“It’ll probably pull me into the water.”
“Don’t say that. It’ll just be a tiny fish, you can take it.”
“Says you.”
“Go on then. Cast out into the center if you can. We’ll see if your Da’s magical floss line will hold.”
“We’ll see. Here goes.”
Ellie cast, and the line whooshed before plonking into the murky waters. A ripple echoed on impact.
“It’s sinking,” she said, squinting.
“Just a little. Let it rest there, don’t jerk it.”
A beat passed as the current lazily dragged the line to the left. “Is this all there is to it? Waiting around like this?”
“Pretty much. Until you get a nibble. What did you expect?”
“Dunno. More action, I suppose.”
“Just wait ‘til you get a bite.”
She didn’t get a bite.
“Here, try again.”
“Ah, I’m useless at it.”
“Not at all. We just stay at it.” Joseph reeled the line back and inspected the soggy fat. Still there. He eyed the width of the waters to Fenton’s property. “Try over there. Come on.”
They made their way across the roof, Ellie already disheartened. “Won’t work,” she said.
“That’s just Esther’s self-doubt worming into you. Have a little hope. I promise.”
“Okay.”
Ellie cast off again, this time not waiting for advice now. The bacon fat once again sunk through the murky surface along with the pencil sharpener. “Think she’s going mental?”
“Esther?”
“Yeah. She killed that man, Joe.”
“We’re not going to talk about that.”
“It’ll find its way back to the surface. I can see it in her face. She’s twitching and yelping in her sleep. Can’t keep those things down forever.”
“Very philosophical of you.”
“Just saying.”
Joseph nodded to the line, done with the conversation. This was a good time they were having. They needed this. “Give it a little jerk,” he said. “Just a small one.”
Ellie did as instructed, letting the dark matter drop. Tension filled the air as the girl’s brow creased. “I think I feel…”
The line whipped taut and she yelped.
“Here, take it!”
“Fuck off, this is your’s!”
“Whatta I do?”
“Just yank it in, go on, you can do this.”
Ellie grunted as she pulled the line. The floss whipped right and left, back and forth, her arms straight. “I thought it’d be like a shark on here! It’s not too hard!”
“Get it out of there, then. Pull in the line.”
Froth broke the surface, and a spot-backed early mature flipped for the briefest moment.
“Trout,” Joseph said, clapping his hands. “Fuckin’ knew it. Come on now, that’s it.”
“Help me! It’s difficult with the floss.”
“Uh-uh, this is your fight. You can do this.”
She backed away from the gutter, working the dental floss around her palm as she moved. Slowly, the sharp yanking motion decreased.
“Pull up now!” Joseph called.
She did, and the trout burst from the waters, smacking onto the shingles. He raced over and scooped it in one quick movement, the slimy creature bucking between his palms. “Look at this!”
As Joseph unhooked the barb from the creature’s mouth--it’s really in there!—he chuckled.
“Holy shit, did I do that?”
“You did indeed, missus. Here, out of the way.”
He jogged to the chimney with the fish wriggling between his hands and ice-water dribbling onto his clothes. It’s scales felt…off.
“What are you gonna—”
Joseph thumped the trout against the chimney and it instantly stiffened.
“That’s disgusting,” Ellie said. “That’s horrendous.”
“Won’t be saying that when we’ve got some fresh fish to eat. It’s an early mature, I’d say. On the small side, but right now it’ll do us just fine. Let’s try and snag another. We could actually have a proper breakfast today. Hot food, Ellie.”
Though he kept his attitude up, his thumb worked over the fish’s flesh. Something was wrong. It felt too rough.
“Was that a tough one?” she asked.
“It was…different. They’ll usually thrash about and give you a struggle. Little fella didn’t seem to have much fight in him.”
“Oh?”
“Look, a fish is a fish. Probably dazed with the flood, being in a new place. Seeing a house underwater probably terrified it. A million reasons it could be acting weird. And we still get our breakfast.”
She smiled at that. “That does sound amazing. I don’t even like fish that much and I’m salivating. How’re you going to start a fire?”
“Loads of dry materials in the attic. I’ll come up with something. Right now, I just need to grab us another fish and we’re good to go. And, hey.” He nodded to her. “I’m really proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
He decided to not let the embarrassment settle and instead dropped the fish inside the attic hole where it plonked into the rainwater pot, stirring Esther. She still didn’t wake. Joseph made his way back to their fishing spot and grabbed up the line. Despite the fish not putting up much of a fight, he was more surprised by their inventiveness. Fucking dental floss. Who knew?
After Ellie tossed the rashers and he tore another line of fat, he cast into the waters once more, feeling like a king. He’d taught his daughter something useful. And she had smiled. Oh, how she’d smiled! And as the bait sunk into deeper waters, a laugh worked its way from his gut.
Guts. She’d need to learn how to gut these things next. Man, that was going to be fun.
He got a nibble on the line, and took a moment to enjoy the respite. There wouldn’t be much more to come.
 
*****
 
The second fish came fifteen minutes later. About the same size as the first and almost snapping the floss line. Joseph whacked its head against the chimney before tossing it to its kin in the water bucket, then set about making a fire. In the attic, he grabbed up two old sweatshirts, one cotton, and one Aran wool, both belonging to Douglas. Joseph recalled cotton burned fast and hot, having dropped a joint on his t-shirt as a teenager. He’d chucked the thing in the woods and come home shirtless, saying he’d been swimming. His mother let the matter drop, not wanting to know the truth. He didn’t know how wool would burn, but the two choices would come in useful. With the books from Ellie’s schoolbag, he had enough materials to get a fire going on the rooftop. He hauled them all out and placed them by the chimney before waking Esther.
“Hey.”
The old woman stirred, and when her eyes found Joseph, her expression never changed. Dull. Lifeless.
“I got us some breakfast,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Well…will I let you sleep and wake you when it’s ready?”
“Okay.”
“Esther, speak to me.”
She sat up, still…what? Soulless, Joseph thought. Drained.
“I keep having nightmares,” she said. “About that thing out there. Whatever took Douglas and my friend.”
Here it is, he thought. Why couldn’t I have a single nice day with Ellie?
“You know what I’m thinking. You’re thinking it, too,” she said. “Douglas’s stories.”
“Just legends,” he said, not really meaning it.
Esther called his bluff. “You’re saying that on instinct. But we both know. I just keep seeing…brains. And blood. And bones. Death.” She sighed, lay back down. “The Kelpie. A water demon in the form of a dead horse. What could the chances be, Joseph?”
He didn’t answer, instead understanding he was avoiding the topic as much as her. He by fishing and pretending nothing was wrong, Esther by sleeping. But all the while, the fear niggled beneath the surface, deep, deep down in unknown darkness.
“I’d like to sleep now,” she said.
“Okay. I’m sorry for waking you. Can I…can I get your lighter, Esther?”
The old woman fished it from her pocket with no interest as to why he needed it. He accepted it silently before making his way back outside with the fish in the pot, careful not to make a sound.
“She okay?” Ellie asked. The wind whipped her hair and she hugged herself against the gale, moving from foot to foot.
“She’s…coping. Let’s just get some food on.”
Keep pretending nothing’s wrong, he thought. Just a few hours more. That’s all. Before we can’t pretend anymore.
“How’re we going to start a fire?” Ellie asked, and the excitement in her voice caused a ripple of guilt. Still, he smiled. Besides, someone might even see the smoke from the fire. At least the clouds had taken a rest and stopped their downpour.
“Why not grab fiberglass?” she asked.
“It’s the one material we have plenty of, but it’s the one thing more likely not to catch fire. Whoever manufactures it makes sure of it so that you don’t get an attic blaze. Thing would go up in seconds otherwise.”
“Oh. Then just those jumpers and books? Anything else?”
“Snap me a couple of branches off that tree,” Joseph said, nodding to the ash by the gutter. In better days, the tree would be dry, and firewood aplenty. He made a mental note to snap some branches himself and carry them inside the attic to dry out for later use. In case help really wasn’t coming.
“Actually,” he said, tossing his worry aside, “Even wet they might be useful, break all the ones you can.”
As Ellie snapped some wood, Joseph balled up the jumpers and hid the plastic bacon packet inside. He accepted the wood from Ellie and lay two branches across the flames for holding the fish off the direct heat.
“You’re going to help me gut these.”
“Joe.”
“Come on. Grab the razor there and just follow my instructions.”
Though reluctant, Ellie sighed as she accepted the razor blade and grabbed a fish from the pot.
The Kelpie, he thought. Can you really keep pretending here?
“It’s slimy,” she said.
Joseph forced a smile. “Yup. We’d usually use something bigger but just make a nice cut from where its…genitals would be, right up to, well, where its chin would be.”
“Like this?” She sliced a direct line from bottom to top, stopping right before the fish’s head. Crimson oozed from the wound.
“Yup, that’s it.”
I just keep seeing…brains. And blood. And bones. Death.
“Wasn’t so bad,” Ellie said.
“Now slice off its head.”
Blood and bones…
“What?”
Joseph swallowed, forcing himself to continue his false sense of normality. “We’re not going to eat its head. But here’s a trick my dad taught me when I was your age: stop just before the cut you just made. Leave a little intact there. We’re going to make this easy on ourselves. Might be a little rough with just the razor but you can do it.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” Ellie said. Joseph recognized it as one of his mother’s old sayings.
Bones…
Ellie hacked with the razor, stopping just before the first incision. “There?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Now grab the head and pull it back towards the fin. The guts will come out with the head.”
“Really?” She yanked the head down and the innards slopped from the open wound.
Blood…
“Ugh, that’s fucking sick but also pretty cool.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s cool. We’ve got a clean fillet now. Just have to wash out the black spine, see that lining on the top? That’ll make the meat taste terrible.”
Kathy, being dragged out to the trees. Meat.
“Don’t want that.”
“Nope. Just toss those…those fish guts off the roof and run your fingernail along the inside the get out the black gunk, then rinse the fillets in the water. They’ll be ready for the fire.”
The teen did as instructed, throwing the guts to the flood before raking her nail along the inside of the carcass and getting out the oily black spine. She finished by jostling the fish in the pot water and studied the finished result. “That’s pretty cool, can I do the other one?”
“Absolutely, you can. Now I’ll get our fire going.”
Pretend. For her sake. Pretend. 
Joseph ignited the plastic between the two layers of clothing and a toxic, black cloud drifted past his face. He coughed.
“That going to make us sick?”
“Just cooking the meat on it, it’s all we’ve got. Have to do.”
“Not just that, the fact these fish were probably eating…people.”
Joseph steadied his breathing. “Nah, that’s in their guts, Ellie. We threw those away.”
The fire took nicer than Joseph expected, the cotton on the bottom catching fast and dancing up through the fibers of the wool. A bright flame crackled and swayed. Then the wool melted and caught, and Joseph fanned the flames. He took the first fish and lay it across the two parallel branches, watching the meat cook. With the second fish from Ellie, they took turns rolling the fillets, until the smell made them salivate and Ellie joked about not waking Esther and gobbling it all for themselves.
“It’s just survival,” Ellie said as a joke. “We caught the meat, we eat it.”
Joseph felt something was coming just as sure as the black clouds barreling in from the east. And he smiled, knowing he wouldn’t get another chance for a long, long time.
Perhaps never again.
CHAPTER NINE
 
 
“Why is it so salty?” Ellie asked. She chewed with her mouth open, her brow creased. “I mean, it’s good, best food I’ve had all week, but it’s…salty.”
Joseph agreed. While the hot breakfast was incredible, there was no denying the harsh undertones. The pot they’d washed the fillets only contained rain water. “The lake from the reservoir, it’s man-made, yeah, Esther?”
The old woman ate silently, face flat and unreadable. “Yes. Freshwater.”
“And the rivers around here, too, obviously.”
“They’re not diseased, are they?” Ellie stopped chewing. “You said they didn’t put up much of a fight.”
“They didn’t,” Joseph agreed. “Unless something in the water’s making them ill. Salt.”
“The barn,” Esther replied in a monotone. She sighed. “Road grit. Salt. Must be leaking into the waters.”
Joseph recalled the gritty film on the scales.
“Poor things were probably struggling to breathe,” Ellie said, looking to the fish in her greasy hands. “Oh well.” She chomped another chunk free.
“Barrels must be leaking,” Esther mused. “Not that replacing it matters anyway. I’ll never set sight on this place again if we get out of here.”
“When we get out of here,” Joseph replied, though he’d grown tired of correcting the woman’s trodden words.
Remorse flashed in Esther’s eyes. She lowered her food. “I’m sorry. Thank you for the breakfast, I mean that. There’s just a lot on my mind.”
“Don’t be sorry. I understand. We’re all feeling the pressure here.”
“It’s not just this, it’s…Look, I’m having awful nightmares, Joe. I keep seeing that thing in the water.”
Here it comes, Joseph thought. They couldn’t ignore it any longer. With food in his stomach, he felt at least capable of addressing the issue now.
“Just the bone white blur,” she said. “It’s…it’s Douglas’s stories, they won’t leave my mind.”
Finished eating, Joseph rubbed his hands together, marring the grease. Images of Douglas clutching the old paperback as the waves crashed threatened to bring up his fish. He waited for Esther to continue.
“We did see something, didn’t we?” Ellie asked.
“We might have,” Joseph said, hard as it was to admit. There was no denying something took Kathy. They’d seen it happen, clear as the day-one crash.
“He was obsessed with Celtic mythology. You saw the books,” she said, motioning to the attic. “In the early days, he’d read me passages. Stories of the fairy trees, the Fomorians, Tír na nÓg, was rather romantic, actually. Then, when I fell pregnant…” She wiped her brow, and though she’d stained her skin with fish oil, she didn’t notice. “He was reading a tale about the Kelpie. That damned Kelpie.”
“What is it, exactly?” Ellie asked, her words slow, cautious. “It’s a horse or something, isn’t it? I remember something from school, not a lot. That skeleton we saw out there…I was right wasn’t I?”
“Some say it’s a demon that takes the shape of a horse. Living in the lochs and waterways of Ireland and Scotland. Far as I remember, it’s a Gaelic word that means ‘heifer’. Being Scottish, Douglas loved the superstitions of his homeland. And the story of the Kelpie had him distracted when we took the ferry to England. I was fit to burst at that stage, and he read my chapters from old fiction to keep me distracted. When we made it to London and got settled in the hospital, we met with the nuns. The orphanage had a good reputation, I wasn’t worried about our child being in bad hands. Douglas kept reminding me we were doing it for our lives. Said we deserved a future together before we brought children into the mix, and I agreed. To a point. When I saw the boy…well, it was my boy. My boy. I changed my mind.” She couldn’t meet their eyes, instead busying herself with her coat sleeve. “But Douglas and the nuns convinced me otherwise. He could be very persuasive. And the nuns, they weren’t letting me go without taking that child. You know the power the Catholic Church had back then, Joseph. Ellie, you’ve probably heard about it.
“He kept me distracted with that damn book. Then, just as a joke when he was reading that fucking book, said, ‘We’ll offer it as a present to the Kelpie. We’ll give up the child in his name and we’ll get good fortune for the farm in return, won’t we, love?’ Just a joke, his dark sense of humor, and I said okay, and forced myself through the whole ordeal. He knew I’d rather give the child in the name of the Kelpie than the Catholic God, knowing my distaste for religion, but the Church ran the orphanages, what else could I do? Just a joke. But I never forgot that. The Kelpie. The demon horse.”
Joseph shivered and sat a little closer to his daughter. “Just a coincidence,” he said. “We’re stressed out of our minds, Esther. There’s no such thing as a Kelpie.”
But did he believe that? The words came as a natural reaction, but he didn’t trust them. By the looks of his daughter and the old woman, they didn’t, either.
Esther sniffled. “I didn’t think there’d be such a thing as a hurricane that could rival Katrina here in Ireland, either. Yet here we are.”
“Joe,” Ellie said, scooting a little closer. “I’m really scared.”
Joseph wrapped an arm around her. “It’s just superstitious nonsense. A hurricane is a natural occurrence. You’re talking about the paranormal.”
Again, white lies, white lies. Something to protect Ellie.
“Cut it out, Joseph,” Esther said. “Do not try and placate me. You know what we all saw. You can’t seriously deny it?”
Joseph opened his mouth to reply, wanting to humor the notion of mass hysteria, but his words caught. Arguing bred contempt, and right now they needed their wits. The fire spat and crackled as the last of the materials burned away, and he stood and scooped the fish pot before dousing the flames in the brine. The charred clothes hissed and a gray, stinking cloud wafted out across the flood. The stench stung his nose.
“We’re losing our minds,” he tried—any answer besides Irish myth becoming reality. “Esther, please don’t take this wrong, but after what you did yesterday—”
“He deserved it.”
“That might be true, but you’re in shock. We all are. We need to concentrate on getting off of here. That’s our priority now.”
Face it, he thought. But couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
“We’ve got food in our bellies, more if we need it, shelter, we need to concentrate on a way out of here. The barrel’s gone, but there’s other materials we can craft from. Has to be something buoyant in the attic.”
“Feel free to check,” Esther said. “But, Joe, I don’t think we’re leaving this rooftop alive.”
“Stop that.”
Ellie’s face flashed with nervousness and Joseph quickly placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Come inside with me, let’s have a look around, see what we can find.”
“Just do me a favor while you’re in there.” Esther’s reddened eyes found him now. “His paperbacks. The stories of the Kelpie. We’re going to need them.”
“We might, we might not. What we do need is something that floats. Something like the barrel. Ellie, come on.”
The teen stood and they approached the hole in the roof, leaving Esther staring at the watery grave around them. She began humming as they pushed aside the kitchen table and worked their way inside the attic. Joseph thought the melody sounded like a lullaby. The final words he heard from her were, “Stop it, Kathy. I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’m singing.”
 
*****
 
“She’s gone mental.”
“Ellie.”
“No, don’t Ellie me. She’s proper lost it, Joe. I’m the one who took a whack to the noggin and even I can tell. She’s a crazy auld bitch with a box cutter and we’re trapped here with her. How long before she snaps like your man in that hotel film and slices our throats?”
Though she called Esther names, Joseph saw the terror in her eyes. She believed in the Kelpie, too.
“All the more reason to search faster. Come on, stop wasting time.”
“Should…should we go through Douglas’s books?” She asked sheepishly.
“Stuff we can use for a raft first, okay?”
“Okay.”
Joseph heaved a cardboard box off another as dust particles drifted about the clammy air. His skin still itched from the fiberglass, but he’d grown somewhat used to the constant state of agitation. He imagined his back and neck were horribly red and welted, and his face felt rough from what he guessed could now be called a beard.
“What’s in that one?” Ellie asked.
Joseph pulled the cardboard flaps back and peered inside. “Christmas stuff. Tinsel. Baubles.” He plucked a bauble and turned the purple, glittery ornament over in his hand. “Funny. Your Mam liked the purple ones, too. Purple and silver, those were her colors.”
“Mine, too,” Ellie said. “Used to ask Nana to reuse them all the time. She bought gold and green and red one year. Looked wrong to me.”
“Looks wrong to me as well.” He shook a good memory and placed the box aside. Beneath lay a mottled storage container.
Ellie craned her neck. “What’s in there?”
“Let’s have a look.” He decided to defuse the mood, just like with the fishing. “It’ll be like Christmas.”
As Joseph lifted the lid, Ellie asked, “Did you hear her singing?”
“I did.”
“That’s mental. Proper mental.”
“It is.” He decided not to mention her little talk with Kathy, and instead peered inside the container. An ancient musty smell hit his nose. “Ellie, she might be right about…the thing out there. Or she might be crazy. I’m not going to lie, I can’t anymore. We have to be prepared to accept the possibility that maybe, just maybe—”
“Joe, are you fucking serious?”
 “Jesus. Is that…”
Again, Ellie said, “Are you serious?”
Joseph pulled the plastic material from the box and flicked it out. His chest ached with hope.
Ellie gasped at the blow-up mattress. “You’re fucking kidding me right now.”
“Hush, don’t.”
“No, fuck that. She had a blow-up mattress down here all along and we’ve been sleeping on fiberglass, old clothes, and cardboard? That’s a fucking joke, Joseph. We’ve had something we could use as a raft all along. Just feet away from us.”
“Her—her head’s not right at the moment, okay? I should’ve checked all the boxes first anyway.”
And he should have. Clothes were one thing, but Joseph shouldn’t have stopped his hunt at the first sign of good luck. They could’ve been off the roof days ago. He cursed himself beneath his breath, cursed Esther, cursed it all.
“Check for a pump.”
As Ellie scrounged inside the box, Joseph lay out the deflated mattress, working the wrinkles free of the dark blue material. His fingers happened across the plastic lip of a hole. “Found the blow up hole. Is there a pump?”
“I’m not seeing one.Wait.”
She pulled free a black hand-pump, a hose coiling from the tip. “It’s not electric?”
“Thank fuck it isn’t. If it were electric we’d be stuck with a whole lot of smelly flat mattress right now. We can pump this up, Ellie. We have a raft.”
“This could really work.”
“It will work.”
Suddenly, the idea of a Kelpie seemed foolish, idiotic. The ramblings of an old woman who’d lost her husband and her home.
“Is there room to take all three of us, though?”
Joseph studied the material—a single bed. Despite the small size, there was plenty of space for all three to hold onto out in the waters. “Yes,” he said. “This is going to work. Here, hand me the pump.”
Ellie did as instructed and Joseph wriggled the nozzle into the hole. Thankfully, the years had not degraded the mattress. Still, he’d need to check for punctures. There must be a reason the device was in storage and not down inside the house.
“Joe,” Ellie said. Joseph waved his hand.
“I know, I’m checking for punctures. Not seeing any.”
“No, I’m wondering if it’ll fit through the hole.”
Joseph nodded. “We got a table out, this’ll fit.”
“Should we check the books, just in case this doesn’t work? What if, y’know, we have to kill this thing?”
He tightened his hold on the mattress. “No. We’ve got a chance and we’re taking it. We’re getting out of here.”
 
*****
 
Esther did not stir at their return. Joseph gasped when his daughter demanded her attention.
“Will you even just turn around?” she asked.
The old woman continued to hum.
“I’m talking to you here. Turn around and look at what we found in your attic.”
The old woman craned her neck, sunken eyes finding what Joseph held. “Oh,” is all she managed.
“Oh?” Ellie laughed as she scrunched her face. She planted her hands on her hips. “That’s all you have to say? You’ve had a mattress down there and all you can say is oh?”
“I’ve been preoccupied. With Kathy.”
Joseph swallowed a lump in his throat. “Esther, Kathy’s dead.”
“I know. She told me what it feels like. How the fish ate her the skin off her spine. What it felt like to drown. I didn’t want to listen but she made me.”
“There’s no one there, Esther.”
The old woman nodded as if he’d just stated nothing more than the weather. “She’s not there, but she is, too. It’s hard to explain.”
“Da,” Ellie said, and the name caused his chest to tightened. “We need to get this blown up quick. Look at the sky.”
Fat clouds rolled in across the hills, black, bold, and pregnant. A low rumble accompanied their movement, and the first trickles of rain patted the waters in a confusing pattern. A chill raced through Joseph.
“Okay, just keep an eye on her. I’ll work this.”
“Right.”
No such thing as a Kelpie. No such thing as a Kelpie. Get out of here before Esther gets worse. No such thing…
Joseph took a knee and got to work pumping the old device as his hands numbed. The wind picked up, tossing sweaty hair from his face. With the mattress expanding, he stopped every so often for the hiss of a puncture. None so far.
“Is it damaged?” Ellie asked the old woman.
Esther stared at the oncoming storm. “It’s all damaged. All rotting. All of it.”
“The mattress, ye auld gobshite, is the mattress damaged?”
At this, Esther spun, ready for what looked like a fight, and her face flared with realization. Joseph had been ready to leap into action—the woman’s hand had moved dangerously close to her inner pocket. To the box cutter.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” Esther said. “I don’t know what came over me. No, no the mattress is okay. We put it in the attic after Patty died. Our friend. Cancer. No need for it because no one came to visit. I’m—I’m so sorry, dear. My head is…” Her shaking fingers found her temple as her eyes vibrated beneath their lids. “I need to sleep. I think I’m losing it.”
“Say that again. You’ve gone proper bonkers.”
“Ellie,” Joseph snapped.
“What? Just telling the truth. Talking about chatting with Kathy and all kinds.”
“I was though?”
“What?”
“I was talking to her. Or she was talking to me. I…I can’t explain it. My head hurts. I’m very tired.”
Joseph continued working the pump, the bed inflating at an irritating pace. Crinkles crackled as the surface smoothened. His arms cried out for a break.
Just get it done. Hurry the fuck up…
Droplets tickled his face. A harsh gale whipped his clothes, almost taking the mattress. He grabbed the bed before placing a knee on its surface, keeping it steady. “You two better head back inside before this storm hits. I’ll keep working on this and follow you inside.”
“Why not do it inside?”
“Need to see if it fits through the hole. In case we’ll need to do this again later, I can let a little air out to test it.”
Over a gust, he heard one of the girls say something. “What?”
“We didn’t say anything?” Ellie shouted, helping the old woman toward the attic, the outburst forgotten.
“Just get inside, hurry.”
Halfway pumped, the mattress looked pathetic. Could they really place their fate on such a flimsy product? Not like they had much choice. Joseph kept pushing. And thunder boomed across the mountains.
“Oh, fuck off!”
A deluge erupted, smacking every surface as it hissed into the floodwaters, dredging up a rotting stink. Water dripped from Joseph’s nose and he wiped his face using the back of his arm before pumping again. And again. And again.
Come on!
He pressed the surface of the bed. Almost firm, still a little flimsy. Then someone muttered.
Joseph whipped his head around, looking for the girls, but the rooftop stood empty. Only howling winds and crashing waters. The voice came again, as if from just behind him, behind his ear, making the peach-fuzz on his neck rise…
He spun, almost toppling, still clutching the hand pump. No one there.
Of course no one’s there! You’re on a fucking rooftop in a flood! Get to work!
As he tossed aside the paranoid notions, he continued working the bed. With the clouds now overhead, he slapped the mattress, the surface firm. He didn’t wait to see if it was enough. With a grunt, he pulled the hose free and capped the plastic plug just as air whooshed out.
It’s done. Inflated. You did it.
“Good job,” someone teased. The voice sounded like a choked drainpipe. Female.
Joseph remained as still as prey sensing predator. He had heard someone…hadn’t he?
The screaming winds created a cacophony of odd whispers and hisses. Paranoia, of course. Like voices on the moors, legends, nothing more. Esther’s madness infecting his brain. Of course. Of course.
He pocketed the hand-pump and snatched the mattress, dragging it to the hole in the roof. There, he lifted the table and peered inside. “Ellie,” he shouted. “Take this, hurry.”
He shoved the bouncy edge at the hole, spotted the jagged shingles biting the rubber. “Shit.”
Still, he forced the bed inside. It fit, just about.”
“Got it,” Ellie called, and the mattress disappeared through the hole.
As Joseph sniffled and wiped more water from his face, he pretended he couldn’t hear the phlegm-clogged voice whispering from the waters. He wanted to turn, to keep an eye on the roiling waves, but fear froze him. Vulnerability seeped through his bones. A harsh gale almost sent him down the roof but he centered his weight.
“Da, get inside, come on.”
The gutter-voice crept through the wind, weaving with the harsh blows. An ancient voice. A cold voice.
The voice of the dead.
“Joseph,” it said. “Your wife is down here, in the waters. You should join her. You deserve to.”
“Seriously,” Ellie called. “What are you doing up there?”
“Sarah, that’s her name,” the slopping voice continued. “Pretty, she is. She’d like to see you again. Step to the gutter and see past the surface. See what waits for you down here. If you’re man enough to look.”
Fuck it.
He leaped into the attic, crashing onto the soggy fiberglass. The roof beneath cracked. He didn’t care. Anything was better than out there on the roof. Where corpses now cried in the wind.
CHAPTER TEN
 
 
The storm howled around the farmhouse as the structure moaned beneath the stinking water’s pressure.
“Will it hold?” Ellie asked, nipping her nail. “The house, I mean. The water’s slamming out there, can you feel it?”
The creaks and moans, much like the wailing of the ill, ghosted around the attic. The farmhouse held firm, however, build of sturdy brick, confidently set. Whatever for Douglas’s outlandish appearance and hobbies, his workmanship stood firm against the flood. Yet the creaking did little to detract from Joseph’s current fear: the voice. Terror tickled his gut at the mere recollection, the certainty he’d heard a person--not the wind—and Esther’s withdrawn state suddenly held appeal. To curl up on the floor and be done with it all. Rescue or no. So long as he didn’t have to face whatever had spoken to him from the water.
“Joe? I asked you a question.”
“Huh? Sorry, Ellie. I’m just very tired.”
The teen’s face flashed with fear. “No. Not you too. Don’t you even think about going weird on me, d’you hear me? What is it?”
“Nothing. It’s—it’s nothing.”
Esther, propped against a support beam, raised her head. Her eyes glistened as they found Joseph, and her mouth parted. “You heard her, too, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“You did.” Her voice, almost a whisper then, sent a shiver scurrying across Joseph’s arms. “What did she say to you?”
Ellie scoffed. “Heard who? Kathy?”
“I…” Joseph ran his filthy palm across his face. “She told me my wife was down there.”
“What are you talking about?” Ellie was almost hysterical, laughter tickling her words. “Am I the only one not going insane here?”
“I did hear something.” Joseph faced his daughter, and whatever she saw on his face shut her up. “Ellie, as crazy as it seems, I think you were right. There’s something out there. Whatever about the Kelpie, this was that neighbor lady. A woman. She tried coaxing me into the flood.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I’m scaring myself.”
Esther sat forward. “Her voice sounded decayed, didn’t it?” she croaked. “Like soggy leaves.”
“Yeah,” Joseph said. “Yeah, it did.”
The wind forced itself against the walls, fighting to break a way inside, for the waters to swallow them whole. Bass-heavy thunder boomed across the mountains. The kitchen table rocked on the roof, clacking against the tiles like the knocks of an eager salesperson. Bang-bang-bang…Bang-bang-bang…
“I can’t explain what I heard,” he said. “But I think it was your friend. Are we going insane?”
He considered the implication. Unable to distinguish reality from fable, surely that was the very definition?
The tears came then, and he let them flow as he batted at his eyes. A hand patted his shoulder, Ellie’s, and he grabbed hold, not wanting to let go. Never wanting to let go.
“There’s something out there,” Esther said.
And though they didn’t respond, Joseph knew they were all listening. The rolling thunder. The marching band drum of the rain. And, just beneath it, something like humming. Softly. Oh, so softly.
Bang-bang-bang…Bang-bang-bang…
 
*****
 
When someone peered inside, no one said a word. Petrified was an expression Joseph heard used many times before. Now he and the girls understood the meaning very well.
 
*****
 
The cataract eye sat sunken in baby-blue skin. A bloated face with strands of swaying, worm-like hair dripped filthy flood water. The eye reduced to a slit. A smile. And the dead woman breathed like boiling water.
“Esther,” she hissed, a whisper mingling with the weather. “I’m walking.”
Ellie whimpered. Her hands shot out and bit into Joseph’s arm. His own skin felt like a thousand panicked ants.
“Esther, are you home? I’ve come for a visit.”
The dead woman’s eye worked about the attic, seeking them out. “It’s a miracle. Where are you, sweetheart?”
Again, they remained frozen. Not a word.
“My legs are a little numb,” Kathy continued. She shifted, cocking her head for a better view. Like a cat peering beneath furniture for a mouse. Joseph caught sight of her water-logged arm, veins popping from the flesh. “But they’re working as if I was in my twenties. It’s amazing, isn’t it, Esther? Ol’ Kathy, out of her wheelchair. Up on your roof. Won’t you come out and see? Come out and see your friend?”
Esther pressed herself against a support beam as if willing herself through it. Beneath her closed lids, her eyes vibrated.
“Look at me, Essy.”
“Go away!”
The dead woman gasped. The sound dissolved into laughter, a spluttering hack, like Joseph’s car refusing to start.
“What if I just come inside, then? You never had a problem just waltzing on into my house, did you? As if me being disabled took away my right to privacy. What if you’d caught me doing something…indecent, Esther? Did you ever consider that? What if you walked in on me fucking my lovely little caretaker?”
Bile rose in Joseph’s throat. He took a shuddering breath and tightened his grip on his daughter.
“I was fucking him, you know. Or, at least, I was letting him fuck me. He had a fantasy of you joining but I think you knew that. Told me all about it. About how he would watch you, hoping you noticed and took a hint. Told me while he ate me out.”
Joseph mouthed a curse as his nostrils flared. Embarrassment and fear cocktailed inside him. He took slow breaths.
“I was up for it, too,” Kathy said with a chuckle. “We were both in on it. It’s the reason I asked you to come down and check on me so often.”
“Please stop,” Esther cried. “Please.”
“He had a weird kink, my Kevin. Loved the auld ones, he did. It’s why he wanted to be a caretaker in the first place. And then you went and killed him.”
Hollow wind crept around the kitchen table, drafting the stench of rot. Ellie’s shoulders hitched as she cried and pressed into Joseph. He rubbed her back, giving what he hoped was some comfort.
“Did it feel good killing him, Essy? How about when this all dies down and things begin to surface…when Kevin’s body is found with his skull bashed in. You probably think they’ll count it as collateral, but they’ll investigate. They’ll put two and two together eventually. Everyone will know what you did. We’re dinosaurs, but the young ones, they’ve got magic machines. They’ll find out.”
“Shut up.”
“And what’s that you have down there?” Kathy said.
Sharp tongues of terror licked Joseph’s spine.
The dead woman’s hand slithered inside the attic, slimy fingers curling around the kitchen table. “A mattress, I believe. In this storm? Could’ve put that to good use back in the day, couldn’t we have, Esther? No use in it getting all wet out here, it’s probably full of holes anyway. I’m getting wet myself. Soaking.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Esther cried. She slapped her hands down, her drooping eyes now bulging. “Leave me alone, please!”
“When we’re having so much fun? You know what, Esther? You did so much for me, let me help you out here. You can’t be risking your life setting sail on a fucking mattress through a flood. I won’t allow it. Here, I’ll help you. You’ll be much safer stuck inside the attic.”
In came the other rotting hand, dirt-clogged nails pushing aside the table. And the dead woman peered inside—and smiled. “Let’s put that mattress to good use, Essy.”
Joseph was up, legs moving by their own accord.
“Da!”
He ignored his daughter. There was no way this dead bitch was taking away their only chance at freedom. He lunged across the attic framework, target set. And the old woman’s arms shot back through the roof. As quickly as a startled spider.
“Is she gone?” Esther croaked.
Rain pattered the shingles, thrown by the winds. No other sounds rose from the storm.
“I don’t hear her,” he whispered. He stepped forward, spotting clouds racing along the evening sky. As the sun set, a bruise-like hue settled.
“She can’t come back,” Esther said in a panic. “I—I can’t take it, I just can’t. We need to get out of here. We need to leave now.”
She stood, taking clumsy lunges across the fiberglass. Her gaunt frame worked in her favor. If she weighed any more, she’d crashed through the roof. With the mattress in hand, she stalked for the hole in the roof.
“Esther, stay where you are. We don’t know what she’s doing.”
“What could she want?”
“Trying to get us out there, in the flood, in the dark...” And here it was: admittance. He added, “So that thing can get us.”
He wanted to vomit at the notion. Dead things moving in the night. The stuff of make-believe. The--
“—The night,” he said.
“What?”
He lowered his voice as if Kathy lay pressed against the roof, listening. His voice quivered with adrenaline. “We were out there in the day time. Nothing happened. At night? The voices…Her. What if it only comes at night?”
“Sounds like something from a story,” Ellie croaked. “Things only coming at night. You’re just guessing. Humoring me.”
“It is something from a story. And those stories had to come from somewhere, yeah? But…” He listened again, no sound from the dead woman. “But I’m not saying I’m right, I admit that, I’m just pointing it out is all.”
Esther crept beneath the hole in the roof, neck craned as she let go of the mattress. Her right hand crept inside her pocket. She slipped the box cutter free, pushed up the blade. Ready. Joseph instinctively stepped back. Their labored breathing consumed the silence.
And Kathy’s hands appeared.
The dead woman cackled as her blue-gray fingers snatched Esther by the hair. Esther screamed as her feet left the ground, swinging. As the old woman’s weapon cut vicious arcs at thin air, Joseph grabbed her legs, but Esther swiped in a panic, missing his forearm by inches. Joseph let go. And Esther disappeared through the hole.
“Help!”
“Ellie, stay here. Guard the mattress.” Joseph leaped atop the boxes and shoved aside the kitchen table, watching it skid down the shingles where it caught on the gutter. He hoisted himself onto the rooftop. There, the dead woman dragged Esther toward the edge as she kicked and screamed and slashed with the box cutter. The dead woman’s milky eyes landed on Joseph and her blackened mouth curled in a smile. Her legs, sickly and shriveled, and misshapen shuffled closer to the murky flood. “Hit me, Esther, hit me!”
“Let. Me. Go.” Esther swung with the blade and caught the dead woman in the forearm. Crimson gushed and splattered Esther’s face and the roof. Kathy released her grip with a yelp as Esther scrambled to her knees. She swiped again. The blade separated Kathy’s chest. Kathy gasped and her blue-gray hand shot to the wound as it drooled across her knuckles and bloomed upon her shirt. “That’s it, you cunt. Hurt me. More!”
Esther, wide-eyed, scrambled back to Joseph. She got to her feet and pointed with the box cutter as it dripped with blackened liquid. The dead woman panted and hunched, spilling crimson that went swirling into the flood. Her crooked legs fought to remain upright.
“Bitch,” Kathy spat. “Can’t you see I’m trying to help you? There will be pain after this, Esther. Douglas is gone. Your life is gone. You really want to keep this suffering up? For how long? End it. Jump into the waters. Bury yourself deep, deep down. It’s a dark and quiet place. Soothing. You don’t have to face this bad place any longer. Just come with me.”
The dead woman took a step closer, blood slithering across her fist and down her legs. “Join me.”
“Get the fuck away from my house!”
As Joseph grabbed for Esther, she sidestepped and charged the dead thing. In one quick motion, she ducked and slammed her weight into Kathy’s shredded chest and the two barreled into the waters. A splash erupted. Joseph raced to the gutter as bubbles broke the surface.
“Joe,” Ellie yelled, her voice muted. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”
“Stay inside, Ellie!”
Esther broke the surface, sucking air as her face glistened in the low light. Joseph grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her back onto the shingles, just as something white blurred beneath the flood, fast as a torpedo. It slipped further underwater. Unseen.
Esther coughed and gagged, rolling to her hands and knees as she scrambled to the peak of the roof. Joseph followed, his footing uneasy as his eyes remained locked on the wavering hellscape.
“She…” Esther wretched, placed the back of her palm to her mouth, took a breath. “She dissolved.”
“What?”
“She melted, Joseph.” Esther cried then, sharp, staccato sounds that pained him to hear. “It was like the witch from The Wizard of Oz, her skin just slid from her bones, I felt it floating all around me, particles, little chunks…She’s gone.”
As the moon rose, gray hair and viscera wavered on the murky surface. Lumps that reminded Joseph of chum that fishers would throw for sharks.
Sharks, he thought. It’s like undead fucking Jaws out here.
“I don’t see it anymore, the thing.”
“The Kelpie,” Esther cried. “Call it by its name. We know what it is. We know damn well.”
“The Kelpie,” Joseph said, as an invisible colony of insects marched across his skin. “I don’t see the Kelpie.”
“It’s there somewhere.” Esther dragged herself to the chimney, wiping her face with her forearm. She sniffled. “It was using her somehow. That was not my Kathy.”
“No.”
“That was a pawn.” She jabbed a finger at the churning lumps in disgust. “I don’t know how, but it used her body. She was dead, Joe, dead.”
Flashes of those ashen fingers and dirt-clogged nails flashed in Joseph’s mind. Kathy’s cataract eyes and shriveled, strange legs. The blackness of her gaping mouth. A dead woman, moving almost as if by the hands of a demented puppeteer.
Ellie eased her head outside, face white with terror. “J—Joe, she’s gone now, yeah?”
“She’s gone, yeah, she’s gone. I promise.”
Ellie nodded as tears welled in her eyes and looked to the old woman. “I’m so sorry.”
Esther rose her head to the swirling clouds, her lips trembling. “I’m in hell. Whatever I did, I don’t deserve this. No one deserves this. We need to get out of here. We have to.”
Something broke the water and all three yelped as they spun. The flood wavered, but whatever it had been, moved fast. Already gone.
“What the fuck are we up against?” As Joseph raced a palm across his face, he could almost feel his sanity coming undone, as easily as badly-tied lace.
“Whatever’s out there,” Ellie whispered. “It’s not stupid.”
And as they watched, Joseph swore he saw something bone white slithering underwater, never quite coming topside again, but wanting him to notice. Wanting him scared.
And it worked.
 
*****
 
He stood on Tony Fenton’s roof like a proud boat captain, hands on his hips. Kevin’s waxy skin glowed in the silver moonlight, the back of his head glistening a vicious red. One eye bulged from its socket, the other sunken and creased. His filthy clothes clutched his bulging stomach and one shoe was lost, the other untied. The dead man laughed as Joseph finally told the others.
Esther craned her neck around the chimney and screamed. Ellie disappeared back inside the attic.
“No, no, no,” Esther cried, grabbing a fistful of her own hair. “It’s not him, it’s not.”
“Hello, Esther.” A slop of water fell from the caretaker’s lips. “Did you miss me?”
The rain picked up, lashing Joseph’s face as he squinted through the downpour. Kevin’s eyes fell on him, but they weren’t right. Like a doll or a taxidermist’s creation, looking right at him but with no connection, no reaction. Dead. Reanimated by that Celtic puppeteer of the lochs and waterways.
The Demon.
“It’s all coming back to get me,” Esther cried. “What did I do to deserve this?” A manic laugh spluttered from her lips, eyes wide with delusion. “What else is real? Leprechauns? Faeries? The feckin’ Balor?”
Joseph only shook his head as Kevin stalked about the rooftop much like the fox, agitated circle after agitated circle. His limbs swung clumsily as he stepped to the gutter, and Joseph noted his legs—like Kathy’s, crooked and bent beneath his clothes.
“I don’t know what he’s doing,” Joseph said. He couldn’t remove his eyes from the abomination. “But he’s planning something. Get back inside, Esther. Please.”
She sneezed and shook her head. “Maybe—maybe I deserve this? Is that what all this is about? Am I a bad person?”
“Just get back inside.”
Joseph led Esther back to the uncovered hole, easing her down into the attic. He couldn’t help casting glances to the caretaker. The man looked less bloated, less dead, more capable.
“Joe, get inside.” Esther peered up at him, pleading.
“Wait.” Joseph skidded down to the gutter and retrieved the table, dragging it back to the attic hole. As he set the table in place and readied himself to climb back inside, something moved behind him.
“Hello, again.”
Joseph spun, water dripping from his nose as Kevin stood with his hands clasped before him by the gutter. How on Earth he’d appeared from one roof to the other, Joseph didn’t know, but reality seemed less tangible by the second. Joseph ran a palm across his face before positioning himself between the walking corpse and the attic. His nails bit into his numb palms as his nostrils flared.
Something inside his mind had switched off. Logic? Perhaps. He felt as if in a dream, watching a dead man walk, a mythological abomination. Joseph wanted to laugh, the absurdity. Wanted to curl into a ball and scream until he awoke in his Dublin apartment with a fever or a hangover or both. Anything. Anything at all. But as the dead man stepped forward, Joseph braced.
“You’re not getting any closer.”
“Oh? Going to pull off a roof tile and cave my skull in again, are we? Hurt like a cunt, hope you know that. Look at the state of this mess. Look.”
He cocked his head, brain matter glistening from the open sore. Something white and plump wriggled within the mess. Using his forefinger, Kevin prodded the slopping hole and winced. “Got any more fanny pads to clog this one up, Daddy-o?”
“Fuck off.”
“I’ll fuck something all right. Gotta do something with that mattress you got down there.”
Another step forward.
“What are you?”
The caretaker snickered. “I’m a randy fuckin’ pervert with a second chance, what are you, daddy?”
Daddy…
Enough.
Something inside him snapped. And Joseph rushed the man.
The two collided and tumbled down the shingles, skidding to a halt by the gutter. Joseph’s fist flew and collided with the dead man’s cheek before Kevin snapped his teeth and missed his forearm by an inch. Joseph whipped back his arm.
“Oh, I told you I was dirty.” The bastard actually wiggled his eyebrows before throwing his head forward, attempting to snap Joseph’s nose. Joseph flung his head sideways and swung his elbow savagely. A dull crack followed.
“Ah, ye fuckin’ cunt!”
The caretaker spat a tooth before snatching Joseph’s head in both hands. The Kevin’s stained teeth zoomed toward Joseph’s nose but he uppercut the caretaker and scrambled away from the scrap. The caretaker rose to his feet, a trail of gristle seeping from his cracked lips. “You’re a dirty one, too, yeah? Fuckin’ filthy fighting from you there is. Come on, stop going easy now.”
“Shut up.”
“Ah, come on. Just give me a go of the young one, I’ll even leave Esther alone.”
A rage Joseph never knew boiled inside him, causing his fists to shake and his eye to twitch.
“Good lookin’ one, she is. Ah, go on. Just step aside for a minute there. I can even head out into the water afterward and grab ye that barrel you wanted so bad. Don’t think that mattress will be carrying anyone for long. I can put it to better use right now with the little one. Give me a go, yeah?”
Joseph stalked across the roof, fizzing with anger. Everything dissolved to background dressing for his rage, even the flood itself. The monster. All of it. Right now, he was going to kill this man. Again.
He flipped the kitchen table. Snapped a leg free with a single kick.
“Why couldn’t you just stay dead?”
He whacked Kevin across the face, sending a spray of brain matter from the back of his head. Kevin shambled on his crooked legs before righting himself. “Not use your hands, big lad? Come on. What is this?”
Another crack on the cheek with the table leg. Another to the chest. Kevin grabbed for the object, missed.
He grinned. “Fingers, hands, Joseph, come on. Get a feel inside my head, grab the brains, that’s what you want to do.”
“What the actual fuck are you?”
“I’ll even let you, look.”
Kevin turned as Joseph braced, giving a clear view of the back of his ruined skull. A chunk of brain matter oozed from the wound like porridge, leaking down his shaved head. “Grab a feel, tear it all out. Go on. Touch me.”
“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!”
Joseph adjusted his grip on the table leg, clutched it like a stake—and drove the wood into the man’s head. The leg sunk deep, as if though runny eggs, and jutted from Kevin’s skull as he screamed and shambled forward, arms out straight. Though Joseph’s hands shook, he stalked forward all the same, fighting the urge to puke.
With a yell, he grabbed hold of the table leg, directed Kevin to the gutter—and kicked.
A large splash billowed from the flood, and the man was gone. Swallowed by the soupy mess.
Joseph panted as bile rose in the back of his throat. Vicious, inky lumps bobbed on the surface of the flood. They swirled as the current carried them to the trees in the distance. And, out there, Joseph saw it, curling up a sycamore like a gargantuan lizard in the moonlight. The Kelpie. There, the demon froze, no more than a carcass upchucked by the waters. A dead animal in an unusual place, but not unheard of after a flood such as this. And then Joseph did vomit.
As he wiped his mouth, adrenaline dissipated from his system and his brain finally registered the intense pain of his face. He noted heat mixing with the rainwater as it dripped from his chin. Bleeding. Was it bad? He brought his finger to his nose and winced. His cheek throbbed as fast as his heart and he imagined it’d swell come an hour’s time. In the movies, people took punches all the time and went about their day as if nothing happened. In real life, Joseph knew this sucker would swell and throb and ache for days. He hoped he didn’t have a concussion.
“Da?”
Joseph turned, spying his daughter peeking from the attic, a joy he never knew filled him. Safe. They were safe. He raced across, skidded to his knees and ignored the ice-water sponging through his clothes. Their arms found each other and he cried into her shoulder, opening his mouth to relieve the pressure from his face.
“You did it,” she said. “Come back inside, please. Come on.”
Joseph nodded as a trail of spittle leaked from his aching lip. He eased himself through the roof as his limbs screamed. A fight in his forties was a much different affair to when he’d been young and full of piss and vinegar. He thought a whiskey would do him well right about now.
Or a fucking beer. Anything.
“Here, let me.” Ellie allowed him to crawl off the cardboard before she rose up and dragged the broken table back across the hole. With shelter and warmth, Joseph shivered as nausea wormed through his gut. He wanted to get sick again, wanted to pass out, wanted to shout in triumph and also poke a hole in his own head to relieve some of the pressure. Instead, an involuntary groan worked from his lungs and he craned his neck as the taste of copper filled his mouth.
“Water, drink,” Esther said.
A hand found his shoulder and pulled him to the water tank. There, he leaned forward and winced as he scooped water from inside the dark container. He drank three handfuls, then paused as the cool water slithered into his uneasy stomach. He took a fourth scoop and splashed it across his aching face, scrubbing at dried dirt and blood.
“Here.”
Ellie handed him an old t-shirt--Wexford Strawberries!—and Joseph dabbed his face dry. His sickness slowly ebbed.
“Much harder than in the movies,” he offered Ellie. “I’m aching all over.”
She nodded, and in that instance, he saw the same unworldly realization settle over her face that screamed in the back of his own mind.
“There are dead people out there.” He said this almost to himself, needing himself to absorb the information. “And there’s a creature in the trees.”
Tears filled Ellie’s eyes. “I think I’m losing my mind,” she said. “This just can’t be happening.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
 
 
The night crept on, more rain leaking through the roof. More screaming winds that Joseph’s imagination morphed into undead friends and neighbors coming to drag him to the waters. He sat by the mottled boxes, head back to clot his nose as he dabbed his face with an old t-shirt. The kitchen table continued to bang from the gales, and each slight movement made his chest lurch, his brain tricking him into seeing a gray-green arm slamming through the roof. Seeking them out.
“We need to leave,” Esther said finally, getting to her feet as she lit another cigarette. Her third since their run-ins with Kathy and the caretaker. Smoke clouded the attic but Joseph didn’t care. Even when Ellie asked for a drag, he refused to scold the girl.
“Joe’s in no condition.” Ellie picked at her dungarees with shaking fingers. “And it’s dark. They’re out there when it’s dark.”
“There’s no one else out there,” Esther said, blowing smoke through her nostrils. “There’s no one. Kathy, that bastard, that’s it.”
Joseph refused to correct her. The Rourke brothers were out there, the British neighbor, too. But he knew what they were all thinking. Douglas was out there. Oh, yes. Mutilated by the fox but out there, waiting.
Esther refused to meet his gaze. “There’s no more.”
“Right. Well, either way, Kevin got some good digs in, Esther. I try slip into the water on that mattress tonight and I’ll be a goner. We can’t navigate in the dark either. That thing will get us.”
“So what, we just sit here until sunrise, hoping my fucking husband doesn’t come crashing through that roof?”
“That’s exactly what we do.”
A harsh silence settled.
“Look, we need our strength. Need a logical approach. We wait. Maybe you’re right and there is something in one of Douglas’s old books that can help.”
“Does it matter?” Esther said. “If we’re leaving in the morning, we’re not coming back. We sent the fucking army out here after that. I’m not fighting that thing if I don’t have to. Neither are you. For your daughter’s sake.”
She had a point. They could waste countless hours getting their hopes up by skimming pages of text in hopes of falling across some random Achilles’ heel. Besides, once the sun rose and they began their escape, they weren’t returning. Let the army deal with the damn Kelpie. Even if that meant both he and Esther being locked up for their mental ravings about a demonic dead horse. It was the truth.
“We rest up then,” he said. “It’s all we can do. Buckle down, eat something, get some sleep. In the morning, we leave.”
“Okay,” Esther said. “We can do that. I never want to see the inside of this fucking attic again for as long as I live.”
Ellie marked another day on the support beam using her nail. Five now.
And out on the wind, something screamed. Something unnatural. Something that sounded like stretched vocal cords gurgling rusted nails and acid.
The Kelpie.
 
*****
 
As dawn broke, and the first sliver of light seeped through the hole in the roof, Joseph eased Ellie from his shoulder and climbed to his feet. The Kelpie had cried two more times during the night, but luckily, only he’d been awake to hear them. Each call shaved another shred of sanity, and by the time the moon sank, he’d almost woken the girls by laughing. He no longer felt present, barely alive, just a bag of bones lurching for a reverse oasis in madness. But each time Ellie twitched or snored, sanity graced him, reassured him he was very much alive. And something very hungry awaited outside in the icy depths. Even though his face still throbbed, it was time to go.
“Hey, Ellie.”
Once she’d stretched, Joseph helped her to her feet and offered her a can of tuna. Their final can each. She grimaced at first but ate greedily, survival overriding personal preference. If they ever got out of here, he imagined they’d never touch canned food again.
“Morning.” Esther sat upright by a support beam, her hair a rat’s nest and her face a map of anguish. She offered a weak smile before scratching her scalp and yawning. “I guess it’s time to go. Best empty our bladders first.”
“I guess so.”
They took turns squatting at the hatch, each cringing at the sounds the height permitted. Though they spoke in loud voices while taking turns finishing their business, there wasn’t much they could do for embarrassment. No one even mentioned toilet paper.
“I’m just lucky I woke up at all,” Esther said, switching subjects. “The dreams.”
“Bad?”
“I keep seeing Kathy falling inside the attic, twisted and bloated. Her legs. God, her legs.”
“It’s over now,” Joseph said. “We get out of here and never look back.”
“You think people are going to believe us?”
Joseph considered the question. He doubted their story would garner little more than laughs. But reaching even that point meant being out of the valley. The very notion stirred him to move. “Let’s just get out of here. We’ll worry about what people think when we can tell them.”
“Right.”
Once they stuffed Ellie’s school bag with the last of their food, Esther took a moment by the stacked boxes. By now, sunlight filtered inside and illuminated their swatter’s dive with stark contrast. A hovel fit for the third world. Esther traced her hand across the clothes box, much like she had done the first day. Joseph imagined the memories zipping through her mind, packing these boxes on a winter’s evening with her husband, blissfully unaware that one day the contents would save her life.
“As much as I’m going to miss my home, I never want to see this place ever again. Or any attic, for that matter.” Her red eyes found Joseph before she added, “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
As Joseph shoved the kitchen table from the hole in the roof, bright light punched his eyes. He scanned the muck-stained roof and the filth-topped waters for any signs of movement. Beyond scores of flies and midges, nothing awaited them. Nothing seen, at least. Save for the horizon.
He climbed onto the shingles as drizzle tickled his skin. Gray clouds scrambled across the moody sky. “Esther, let me help you out.”
The old woman accepted his hand and worked her way outside as Joseph turned his attention to Ellie. “Come on, up and atom. Pass up the mattress.”
“One second.”
She disappeared and returned with a water-filled milk bottle and a smile on her face. “Filled it from the tank. Just in case. Smart, yeah?”
“Very,” he admitted. “Here.”
With Ellie and the matters outside, Joseph shimmied his way down to the gutter and slid the mattress onto the flood, the blue inflatable breaking the scummy skin of the water. A rotting stench invaded his nose. “Fucking disgusting,” he muttered. “Under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t want to get in this water for all the money in the world.”
“Not even a million?” Ellie asked.
“Not even a million.”
“No, I know, I’m just nervous.”
“Me, too.”
“You really can’t swim?”
“Never could.” Joseph eyed the inky depths as his chest tightened. A foreign world down there, one filled with the promise of death should he slip.
When he was seven, he’d taken a school trip to a pool in Dublin. While his classmates splashed about and screamed in joy, he’d pushed his way to an unoccupied corner, the stench of chlorine thick in the air. There, he’d attempted to swim. He’d thrashed his limbs and tried and tried, but all he’d managed to do was push his way out past his depths. And panic. Oh, how panic struck like lightning.
On his tiptoes, he’s forced himself from the tiled ground to gasp for air, only managing to work his way further out. Each kick from the ground was like shoving his way up from jelly, and eventually his mouth stopped breaking the surface. He remembered how his classmates’ voices muted and dulled, barely cutting through the waters as his throat constricted and the light blurred. Why hadn’t they noticed him? Eventually, as a soft calmness overcame him and his legs still kicked by their own accord, his body twitching in the throes of death. But, eventually, he’d gotten turned around. Dumb luck, nothing more. His head finally exploded from the pool and found fresh air. He cried, and when the other kids spotted him, oh did they laugh. He didn’t care. When the teacher rushed to his aid and listened to him blabber about what’d happened, she’d lied and said, “Nothing bad would’ve happened, I was watching you the whole time.” Even though she’d been chatting up the safety guard while little Joseph had fought for his life. He hadn’t entered a body of water since.
“Joe?”
“Hmm?”
Ellie placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed. “Zoned out on us there.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“You’re okay to do this?”
“Have to, don’t I? Little as I want.”
Ellie nodded, the worry clear in her eyes. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
The simple statement ached his heart. He grabbed hold of her hand and gave a tight-lipped smile. “I know you won’t. I feel safe already.”
“Let’s get it done. I’m scared too.”
“You’re braver than most, Ellie. I’m proud of you.”
A smile lifted her cheeks. “Thanks…here goes nothing, I guess.”
“Two seconds.” He lifted the corner of the pad on her head, appraising the gash. “Looks healed. Better, at least.”
“It’ll be fine. It’s dry and scabbed, right? Plus it’s not like we can stay here anyway. Best we don’t over-think it.”
Ellie adjusted her backpack before easing herself down on the gutter. With a grimace, she slipped one leg into the flood, followed by the other. “It’s freezing. Feels thick. Like stew.”
“You’re doing great.” Although he said it convincingly, Joseph watched the tree line for any signs of the Kelpie. He understood, for whatever reason, the creature retreated in daylight, but he watched, all the same.
“Okay. Here goes.”
With a deep breath, she shoved from the roof. The splash made Joseph wince, but her head soon broke the surface and little flecks of god-knows-what were glued to her face. She kicked her way to the mattress, grabbed hold. “Okay, I’m in. Esther, you should get a good grip on the other side. When I was in Spain with my friends, we had something similar, big floaty thing. Got used to getting our weight distributed so we wouldn’t capsize. This is going to be pretty much the same thing. It’s not too hard to keep a hold on, so don’t worry.”
His daughter’s attempts to calm the old woman touched Joseph. She really was doing a great job. He even felt reassured himself.
“Fuck it,” Esther said. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
After finishing her final cigarette, Esther flicked the butt to the waters and shook out her limbs. She slipped from the edge of the roof into the waters and kept her head afloat as her body disappeared beneath. Her face wrinkled as the surface wavered around her neck, threatening to get in her mouth. “Oh, it’s disgusting. Joseph, get in here.”
The absurdity loosened his fears, and with a deep breath, he placed his legs into the flood. His skin instantly broke out in goosebumps.
“It’s okay,” Ellie said. “Put your other hand on and hold on tight.”
Her calming tone reminded him all too much of her mother, and as his heart jack-hammered and threatened to burst with emotion, his free hand found the mattress. He clutched it in his fists.
“You’re shaking,” Ellie said.
“Of—of course I am.” With no time to over-think, he shoved from the roof.
For the briefest moment, he was completely submerged. Ticklish bubbles, darkness, and an odd pressure replaced the hellish mountainside. Then he gasped as his face found the surface, and his hands shook as they clutched as tight as vices. One slip, just one, and he’d descend down to the underwater homes, only to float back topside after three days when his rotting corpse collected enough gas.
“Da,” Ellie said. “It’s okay. You’re holding on. Just don’t lose your grip, okay?”
“Okay.”
Joseph heard the shakiness in his voice, the reason for Ellie’s firm response; he felt the trembling in the mattress caused by him, but his mind refused to fully register what was happening. One slip up, old man. Just a jerk of the arm and you’re going down into that dark place. Muck-water will fill your lungs and you’ll feel it, icy and thick. Your eyes will bulge…and maybe, just maybe, one of the living corpses will find you and take a nice bite from your flesh as you scream nothing but a stream of bubbles…
“Da!” Ellie yelled, popping his twisted vision. “Back to us now, okay? Don’t panic.”
“I’m trying.”
The mattress glided on the gunk, pulling them away from the farmhouse. A mixture of disbelief and sheer panic swirled inside Joseph as his body temperature adjusted to the floodwater. He froze in position, scared the slightest twitch would dislodge his grip and send him sinking. He locked eyes with his daughter. And she smiled.
“It’s all right,” she said. “You’re doing great.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Ellie kicked beneath the surface, turning the mattress against the current. They drifted out by the barn, further and further.
“Just like river tubing,” Ellie said. “Did it with Nana once, on an old tractor tire in Galway. Just like that.”
“Just like that,” Joseph heard himself say. “Yeah, it’s all fine.”
Just one slip…
“We’re doing good,” Esther said. “Look, it’s taking us towards the hills. If we can get out there, we can pull ourselves onto the mountains. See past the fog? Just out by the Rourkes’ property line, that’s where the ground will start to incline. We’ll be on dry land.”
“But it’s a mountain?” Ellie said.
“It’s something. We’ll be up high. Away from the waters. We’ll be able to see further, plot where to go next. Has to be roads above water level out there.”
“This is going to work,” Joseph said. Though if he was convincing himself or the girls, he didn’t know. His hands were frozen into fists on the mattress. A slow rain started, tapping his nose and forehead, and an icy fist curled around his gut.
“N—no. This rain keeps up and it’ll make my hands slippery.”
“Don’t panic, Da,” Ellie repeated. She gave him a stoic stare. “Look at me. There you go. Just keep looking at me now.”
And he did. He watched her blue eyes, so much like his own, burning with determination. Sarah’s jawline, working back and forth as she directed their path to the mountainside. His daughter.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said. The words had come on their own. “Just in case.”
“Stop that.”
“Okay.”
Then someone yelled. And Joseph’s hands jerked at the sound.
 
*****
 
“Da, hold on!”
Joseph’s fingers slipped along the mattress as an anchor of fear plunged in his chest; the sensation of a roller-coaster drop. He scrambled, kicking up a froth as alarm bells blared in his mind. A hand clasped his own, cold and calloused. Esther.
“Steady, yeah? Steady.”
He nodded, feeling filth-water trickle down his face as he relaxed his muscles. He closed his eyes, felt them shake beneath their lids.
And through the sycamore, something shifted on the roof of a cottage.
“It can’t be,” Esther said, eyes trained on the shape. “It’s a miracle. Holy shit.”
The man waved his arms frantically, yelled again.
“I—I know him,” Joseph said, his heart rate slowly normalizing. “That’s the British lad we met coming up the lane.”
“Gavin,” Esther said. “Newest person to move here.”
They slowly slipped towards the house, guided by the current. Joseph imagined they were following the trajectory of the lane itself, being carried toward the mountainside. Perhaps a slow leakage through the cliffs was pulling the waters. Would they have been safer waiting at the house for the flood to clear? Would take weeks. Nevermind the Kelpie lurking night after night, sending abomination after abomination.
“Should we go over there?” Esther asked.
The question never even crossed Joseph’s mind if they should. Of course they should. The man looked gaunt, a beard as thick as Joseph’s own. He guessed the survivor didn’t have the luxury of an attic for shelter, or food, for that matter. Of course they should help him. But, then again, after what happened with the caretaker…Joseph eyed the others.
“I don’t know. We’re so close.”
“Yes,” Esther said. “We don’t have much food.”
Ellie’s eyes bulged. “Do you two hear yourselves? That’s a human being up there! Of course we need to see if he’s okay.”
Neither spoke. Joseph was content to allow the current to drag them to the mountain. To remain still and pretend he saw nothing at all. Hear none, see none, speak none. And the more they moved, the more he hoped Ellie wouldn’t protest, that she’d take the message and forget about the man. Pretend they couldn’t hear his cries for help.
“Please,” the man said, close enough to make out the circles beneath his eyes, his sallow skin and dirt-caked hair. “Where are you going?”
“Da.”
His daughter’s expression ached his heart. With a sigh, Joseph nodded.
“We can’t leave him, Esther. We just can’t.”
“Joe, come on now. We’re so close.”
“I’m…I’m sorry.”
Ellie shook her head and grunted with frustration as she kicked her legs, swiveling the mattress towards the cottage. After a few moments, Esther began to kick in the same direction. The man cried in gratitude.
“Thank you, thank you.”
He fell to his knees as the mattress collided with the roof, water halfway up to the peak. Although the house was only a cottage, it sat higher than Esther’s farmhouse, the lane inclining as it approached the mountainside. Ellie pulled herself out of the flood and quickly grabbed Joseph’s shirt, dragging him out, too. Joseph said a silent thank you as he wrung out his clothes, grateful to be out of the stink. With Esther on the roof, he snatched the mattress and pulled it to the peak, setting it by the chimney.
The man continued to cry. His cracked lips caused Joseph to wince. Small red sores dotted his face and arms. Midge bites.
“Here, we have water.” Ellie slung her bag from her shoulder and withdrew the milk carton. She uncapped the lid and passed it his way. With shaking hands, he slammed it to his mouth and gulped. Water spilled from the carton across his knuckles and splashed the roof.
“Easy,” Joseph warned. “Just take it easy.”
The man’s neck clicked as he swallowed again and again, water spilling down his filthy shirt and jeans. Then he gasped and passed the bottle back to Ellie. For a second, his eyes widened. And then he vomited. Clear liquid splashed the opposite side of the roof, rolling down into the gutter. He wiped his mouth. Vomited again. Then collapsed by the chimney and cried some more as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“It’s okay,” Joseph said. “We’ve got plenty of water. Food, too.”
The man’s eyes shot open. “Food? You’ve got actual food?” His voice was hoarse, as if his throat had been rubbed raw by sandpaper.
“Yes. Not much, now. But we do have some. Peaches. Canned. We had tuna but it’s gone now. That’s about it.”
“Oh, thank Jesus.”
“Thank Ellie, more like. She’s the brave one who dived to get it from the house.”
“Ellie,” the man said, and nodded to the teen. “You’ve saved my life. I won’t forget your name for as long as I live.”
Ellie blushed as she grabbed a can from the bag and passed it his way. He instantly cracked the lid and shoved pinches of fruit into his mouth, moaning as he chewed. “I can’t believe I’m actually eating food. Stomach feels like it’s eating itself. Gavin. Gavin Henderson.”
“Gavin, I’m Joseph. You know Esther, I’m sure. Really haven’t had anything to eat since the flood?”
“Nothing,” he said around a mouthful, saliva glistening on his chin. “I thought I’d starve to death. My head’s pounding with a headache, ever get that when you’re hungry? I passed out a few times.”
“Well you can have another can, we’ve got it to spare. Won’t need it much more anyway.”
He nodded to Esther. “Where’s your husband?”
Her head whipped to the waters, unable to meet his gaze. She didn’t need to speak.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Joseph tapped his shoulder. “We’re taking this mattress and heading for the mountains. Dry land.”
“The mountains? You know what’s out there, right?”
“We do.”
Gavin stopped eating. “It’s been circling my house every night. I woke up with it climbing up onto the roof once, managed to beat it back with a board.” He nodded to the 2x4 near the chimney. “Found that chunk of wood drifting by on the second day, took it after I spotted that thing the first night.” He recommenced his chewing, wolfing down peach halves before draining the can of its syrup. He tossed the can into the flood.
“It climbed up onto your roof?”
He nodded. “Bones clacking, teeth chattering…Those hooves thumping along the tiles. I couldn’t breathe at the sight. Irish legend, right in front of me. I remember all the camp fire stories of people seeing the banshee out in the woods, of faeries and all sorts, and…and I’m starting to wonder if some were true. You know what this is, don’t you?”
“A Kelpie,” Ellie said, not missing a beat. As bizarre as the statement was, the man didn’t so much as flinch.
“I thought I was losing my mind. Part of me still thinks I died when the flood hit and this is all just a nightmare.”
Joseph couldn’t blame the man. He felt much the same. Perhaps he would wake up feverish with his wife and mother still alive, Ellie still rebellious and hating his guts. He’d take that option in a heartbeat.
“It’s out there,” Gavin said, nodding to the thicket by the base of the mountain as Ellie passed him another can. His clutched the food to his chest, his sickly arms shaking. “And I’m sorry to say this, but it won’t let you pass. There’s no way you’re reaching that mountain.”
“What are you talking about?” Joseph’s heart sped as his hands worked in and out of fists. He felt like a trapped mouse.
Gavin cracked the second can of food, sighed. He began eating again, slowly this time. “You really have no idea what we’re up against. We’re dealing with a thing of legend.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
 
 
“I’ve had a clear view of the trees from here since the flood hit.” Gavin’s sagging eyes refused to leave the thicket as he spoke. His cracked lips stretched in a humorless smile. “It rests during the day. You might not see it at first, but look to the left. Forth tree from the Rourke place.”
Joseph squinted at the fog-shrouded farmhouse by the mountains, the sycamores wavering in the breeze. And there, up in the forth, he saw it. The Kelpie. The skeleton horse sat curled in the bosom of the branches; to a passerby, just the washed-up remains of an animal taken by the flood.
“It’s asleep,” Gavin said. “Wakes at dusk, slinks down into the waters and slithers its way to the houses. It’s weak. I don’t know if it’s always been that way or if it’s just old. Maybe that’s why it needs the help of the corpses. You’ve seen them, I noticed. Heard the commotion last night. Splashes. Yelling.”
“You’ve seen them too?” Joseph asked.
“Night after night. Thought I’d cracked my head and was going insane. Half expected to wake up with men in white coats around me. I crawled behind the chimney and tried to hide when I saw it, hoping it wouldn’t notice. Like a Jurassic monster, swimming against the current.”
“Kathy,” Esther said. “My friend Kathy was taken by it.”
Gavin nodded. “I’m sorry…I really wish I’d paid more attention to old legends growing up. The stories. I was just never taken by fables, always assumed they were metaphors, you know? Tír Na nÓg and the dangers of wanting to live forever, that kind of thing.”
“What’s the Kelpie a metaphor for?” Ellie asked.
The man shrugged. “Doesn’t matter much. It wants us dead, that’s all I care about. Anything I beat the crap out of with a plank of wood is something I don’t think too much about the meaning of.”
“You really hit it with the 2x4?”
“Cracked it across the jaw when it crawled up on the roof after me. As I said, I just woke up to it chattering its teeth and dripping water.” He swallowed. “When you’ve seen what it can do, you wouldn’t want it anywhere near you, either.”
“How do you mean?”
His face wrinkled in disgust. “The Rourke brothers survived the flood. Yeah, I’m serious. They were on their rooftop, too. That first night, I heard screaming. I bolted awake as that thing made its way off their rooftop back to the waters with one of them thrashing and screaming. At first I didn’t understand what was happening, thought I was hallucinating, but then I realized that Terry Rourke was stuck to the thing. Like its bones were made of glue. It crawled back into the water and drowned him while Peter cried out for his brother, screaming his throat raw.”
“He was stuck to the thing?”
“Fused. His hands. One touch, that’s all it takes.”
Joseph opened his mouth to voice his disbelief but stopped short. After all he’d seen, he was in no position to doubt the stories.
Gavin continued, “Then the horse reappeared, no sign of Kevin. Peter threw a punch and his fist glued to the horse’s spinal cord. The Kelpie just backed away with its prey while Peter fought to pull his hand free, but the moment his other hand touched it, it stuck, too. And when he kicked out, his leg was as good as done. Only took a few seconds, that’s all, and both brothers were gone. Drowned. It stored their bodies in the trees, and the next night, it came for me.”
He blew a breath, nodded. “That’s why I grabbed the board. Knew it would try come here eventually. And when it did, I was ready. But it’s not dumb, not at all. It never tried coming up the roof again. It learned. I don’t know what it’s going to do next, but it’s not going to be good. And if we get out near those trees, we’ll wake it. I don’t want to risk that. I’ve seen it out in the daylight, lurking all weak-like. Night is when it’s ready. But it’s not against sunlight completely. It will stop you if you try go out there.”
“It’s our only chance,” Esther said. “We have to risk it, whether we like it or not.”
“Well I can’t. And neither should you.”
“What are you suggesting, then?” Joseph asked.
Gavin threw up his arms, licked at his cracked lips. “I don’t know. But if have to face that thing head-on, it needs to be on our territory, not it’s. Trying to get past it in the water is just a fool’s wish.”
“What about heading out east, away from the mountains?” Joseph asked.
“That thing can work through the waters like a gator, Joe. It sees us without land in reach, it’s coming. Don’t think it’s not watching.”
“Then why didn’t it make a move when we came out here, huh? We were in the water. All three of us.”
“Because you had houses nearby. The second you saw it leave the trees, you had the barn, that decrepit place, plenty of places to get out in time. Had you not stopped for me here? You’d be dead right now. I guarantee it. Watch.”
Gavin shoved to his feet, wincing as he did so. He hobbled down to the gutter and sat, placing his filthy shoes into the flood. And, sure enough, Joseph noticed the monster twitch. The slightest jerk of the head, barely distinguishable at this distance, but a jerk all the same.
“You see that?” He shambled back to the chimney and plonked himself down, wiping his face. “It’s watching. Always watching. You got a phone?”
“Dead,” Joseph said. “First day. Tried emergency services multiple times, always on hold.”
“Same here. Phone went the first night. Don’t make batteries like they used to, huh? These days I’d pray for an old brick of a Nokia.”
Esther shifted, seemingly agitated. “Well we can’t sit and wait, helps not coming any time soon, but if we can’t go near those trees, we’ve got to kill that thing. Is that what you’re trying to tell us?”
“It is,” Gavin said, and smiled at the old woman. Something in his gaze made Joseph uneasy. Memories of Kevin resurfaced, and he found his hands curling into fists.
“What is it?” he said.
“I’m sorry.” Gavin rubbed his forehead, sniffled. “It’s just…Esther, I’m happy you’re alive. I’m sorry that Douglas didn’t make it.”
Esther folded her arms, looked to Joseph as if for support. “Thank you,” she said. “But we hardly know each other.”
“I…I know you, though.”
“Excuse me?”
Joseph noted her hand slip inside her soaking-wet jacket then. The box cutter.
“You know me, too, you just don’t know it.”
“What are you talking about?”
He looked to his lap, taking a moment. A rook cawed from the mountains. And with a deep breath, Gavin laughed without humor. “You left me in London. A very long time ago.”
And Esther broke. She fell to her knees as tears streamed her face, blubbering like a child as hitches wracked her body. “That’s not funny. That is not funny.”
“No, it’s not. And it’s the truth.” Now Gavin’s eyes reddened, tears beading at the corners. He wiped his face. “I’ve…I’ve been trying to gather up the courage for nearly three months to knock on your door and introduce myself. I’ve—”
“Stop it!”
“—I’ve been looking for you for years.”
Joseph saw it now: Douglas’ sharp nose, Esther’s deep blue eyes. It couldn’t be.
“I was fostered at nine from the nuns. A nice family, two other children of their own, the Hendersons. Like that movie, you know that one? Harry and the Hendersons? They—”
“I’m sorry.”
“—They took good care of me. Raised me well in the suburbs. I had a good childhood, Esther. But when I was 16, I couldn’t help it, I went back to the orphanage and had a meeting with Sister Ophelia. She always liked me. She shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have, but she gave me a clue. Said you lived in Wicklow, that your husband was Scottish. It took me years. Years. But here I am.”
Esther’s mouth opened and closed as mucus gathered on her lip. She swayed slightly, like someone under the spell of an evangelical preacher.
“All I want to know,” Gavin cried, “Is why did you leave me?”
When Esther didn’t reply—couldn’t reply—he shook his head. “That’s all I’ve wanted. Nearly twenty years I’ve waited to ask. And if I’m going to die out here, I need closure. It’s all I ask. All I’ve ever wanted. Please. Why? Why?”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Please, I know what we’re dealing with, but I need this.”
“I can’t. I can’t breathe.”
Joseph grabbed hold of Esther as she clutched her jacket, her face strained. The moment stretched forever. Her nostrils flared with each rise of her chest. “Because I was selfish,” she said eventually, her words fast and harsh. Her eyes drifted someplace Joseph couldn’t see. “We were selfish. We were young. We wanted a life together, a farm, we didn’t think. I’m…I’m sorry. We didn’t think.” She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, shaking her head. “You’re really him?”
“I am.”
She glided toward him then, and he avoided her gaze. She cocked her head.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m dropping this on you, coming here, moving here, for an answer you probably don’t even—”
She silenced him with a hug.
 
*****
 
“Your father,” Esther said, “He loves you very much.”
Joseph sat with Gavin against the chimney, overhearing the girls’ conversation as they sat hunkered by the water’s edge. Gavin had drifted off, head leaning on Joseph’s shoulder. Joseph let him sleep, despite the man’s breath stinking of a sewer and his body odor sour enough to make his eyes sting. Gavin had been through hell and back and then some. They all had.
“I’ve thought about that boy every day for over thirty years,” Esther said. She kept her voice low. “Wondering what he became. What he looked like. If he thought about us, if he hated us. I’m sure he did. And yet here he is.”
Ellie didn’t say a word, letting the old woman ramble and exercise her thoughts. Joseph had never been more proud.
“Me and Douglas? We didn’t have any intention of seeing that boy ever again. What kind of person does that make me?”
Ellie didn’t answer.
“But your father,” she continued. “He wanted you to have better than what he could offer. It’s why you lived with your Nana. Do you understand that? He was preparing to give you a life you deserved. He didn’t want you struggling with him, grow to resent him. And in a way, your mother didn’t either. Her demons just caught her before they reached that point.” Esther sniffled, squeezed the teen’s shoulder. “That’s the difference between me and your dad. He wanted you. Wanted the best for you. Still does. I didn’t even want to know my boy. Didn’t really want to know him. That’s the difference.”
“I know,” Ellie said. And when she turned her head and caught Joseph looking, all he could do was smile. He saw love in those eyes. Understanding. The kind of understanding that comes with time. And forgiveness. That, too.
Ellie stood, brushed off her overalls. The red material was now browned from the floodwater, and silty patches dotted her shirt. Her hair sat matted in clumps at the back. She took a deep breath before saying, “Let’s kill this fucking Kelpie. I’m serious.”
Gavin woke with a snort. His bleary eyes found them as he rubbed his face. After a moment’s silence, he asked, “What’s our plan then?”
“Douglas—” Esther began, “—Your father, he had a collection of old books back in the attic. Old volumes on mythology, Celtic folklore. It’s a long shot, but we just might find something there. Even if there is something useful, there’s the chance that the pages could’ve taken water damage. It’d be a risk getting back to the farmhouse, but if you’re right and it is smart, watching us, then it knows it won’t reach us in time. We can make it.”
“What if there’s nothing useful in those books?” Ellie asked.
“Has to be.” Joseph heard the white lie from his lips, but this time, it was more for his own sense of security. There had to be something in those pages. What other options did they have? Still, worry scuttled through him at the idea of grabbing hold of that mattress in the flood again. Another trip--backtracking—through the waters in the hopes they might find something. Though he saw no other way. He drew courage from his daughter’s determination.
“It’s all we have,” he said. “And we better move now before we lose any more daylight. We stay here yammering until the sun goes down and we’re sitting ducks.”
Ellie nodded, though fear twitched her lips.
 
*****
 
Back in the water, Joseph eyed the monstrosity in the trees as water lapped his chin. Sure enough, it stirred, though never left its perch. With four of them, the mattress barely stayed surfaced, but having Gavin to help kick made movement easier. They pushed against the current as Joseph clutched the plastic in a vice-like grip.
“Gavin, you okay?” Joseph asked.
The man nodded, though his tired eyes flickered.
Hurry up, Joseph thought. He’s going under if we don’t move it…
“Why can’t they touch the water?” Ellie asked, the question directed at Gavin. Keeping him awake. A distraction. “The people it brings back.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t seen them, wasn’t until you told me about that woman I knew about them. Something in the water itself?”
“No idea,” Esther said, “But we’re just here. Come on. Let me help you off.”
As they neared the roof, Ellie released her grip on the mattress and paddled to the gutter before helping Joseph out of the flood. Together, they lifted Esther and her son and the four dripped stinking water onto the tiles. Joseph fished the mattress as it rotated in the current before dragging it up the roof. The rain picked up again, though he hardly registered the weather anymore. He guessed they were each going to need shots if they ever made it out alive. “Inside,” he said. “I don’t know how long we have left in the day.”
Once back inside the attic, Esther doled out the last of the clothes box as Joseph stored the mattress behind the last of the boxes. A bright blue jumper for Joseph, with purple--purple!—jeans that only reached his ankles. A floral print dress and tights for Ellie, covered with a thick and padded raincoat. Esther was left with pajamas and an old army jacket. And when she got to Gavin, she took a moment, one hand still inside the box.
“This was your father’s favorite,” she said. “Wore this to church on Sundays back when he still went. Wasn’t a religious man, he just enjoyed the old stories. And the priest, according to him, had good projection. Here.”
She handed him a moss-green suit blazer and matching pants. “No shirt,” she said. “He kept those downstairs. But I’d like to think he’d be smiling right now with you wearing his Sunday best.”
Gavin’s face twitched, though Joseph found the response hard to read. Gratitude? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, but with all four in clean clothes, and a crack of thunder booming outside, he motioned to the remaining boxes by the water tank.
“Let’s find these books while we still have time.”
They each took a box, but not before Gavin gulped mouthfuls of tank water, this time managing to keep the liquid down. Satisfied he wouldn’t vomit, he grabbed a box of his own, and they got to work.
Joseph tore the cardboard flap and peered down to into the musty contents. A yellowed soda stream, a whisk without a plug, two old pots, a set of decorated plates, some old mugs. “Just kitchen stuff,” he said. “Nothing good. Ellie?”
“An old computer,” she said. “And a broken printer. No use.”
“This one’s just stuff from when we redecorated the bedroom,” Esther said. “I’ve got nothing.”
When they looked to Gavin, he shook his head. “Just…photos. A lot of them.”
As he picked through the Polaroids, Joseph let the man be. There were only three more boxes, and Joseph didn’t want to push Gavin further than needed. But as he neared the stack by the tank, something shifted in the gloom.
Esther hissed, sharp as a switchblade. “Joseph.”
He stood frozen on the beams, arms to either side. Vulnerable. Whatever moved in the shadows, he stood between it and the others. Wood creaked.
“Who’s there?” he called, his voice dry as the wood itself. But nothing stirred.
“Back,” he whispered over his shoulder. “All of you. Get back. We’re not alone.”
The three of them clamored to their feet, moving toward the hole in the roof as one. Joseph eased his grip from the support beams and lowered into a crouch, left hand reaching for the box of old kitchen appliances. His fingers closed around the plastic handle of a pot, and then he rose. And the thing slunk from the shadows.
The fox released a guttural cry, shaking legs marred with crud and silt. Its matted tail swept back and forth as its crusty eyes glared in the low light. The fox was dead, that much was clear—dead and walking. A trail of saliva oozed through its broken teeth as it crept along the attic, hackles raised. A sound Joseph had never heard before slipped past its lips, halfway between a growl and a pitiful cry.
“What in the fucking world is going on?” Joseph’s heart punched his ribs as his palms sweat.
Then it pounced.
Joseph jabbed the pot straight forward and connected with the animal’s snapping jaws. A crack rang out as it thumped the fiberglass, sending a plume of ticklish, pink particles. It scrambled to its feet, rushed him, and Joseph whacked it across the head. The fox didn’t so much as yelp, just shook its head and changed target. It leaped for Ellie.
As it bared teeth and gums, Gavin grabbed the animal, one hand clutching its snout, the other its lower jaw. He began wrenching his arms apart, veins rising to the surface of his skin. Then the animal’s jaws came together in a vicious snap. And Gavin screamed.
With his right hand caught in the fox’s mouth, he punched its skull as it tore from left to right, left to right, crimson seeping from its blackened lips and dotting the floor and beams. The support beam! Were they even still standing on the--
The roof gave. A bang as loud as a gunshot rang out as fiberglass gushed into the air and Gavin slipped halfway through the roof. The fox now stood on his chest, chomping his hand, trying to rip the appendage free.
“Get it off of me, get it off of me!”
Joseph tossed the pan aside and rushed the abomination. He grabbed hold of its matted fur from behind and wrenched the animal with a sharp tug. The fox came free and spun, glistening teeth coming together inches from his fingers. He snatched the animal’s slick snout, mashing its jaws closed. He pressed his palms together, keeping the creature in place as its back legs kicked fiberglass into a frenzy.
“The hatch!” he yelled. “Get the hatch open.”
Gavin shoved himself free of the hole, clutching his bleeding hand as a scream burst from his lungs. It was Ellie who stood and raced across the room. She skidded to her knees and unlocked the bolt in one fluid motion, throwing the hatch back before diving against the water tank for safety.
Joseph’s hands vibrated as the abomination desperately struggled to devour his fingers. He gave a sharp tug but the fox remained grounded.
“I can’t move it!” he yelled, wet fur slipping through his grip. “Shit, it’s gettin’ free. Someone do something.”
Then came the hard whack as Gavin brought the pot down on the creature’s skull. He missed Joseph’s hands by an inch. He hit it again, the thump racing up Joseph’s arms but he held on. Gavin raised the weapon and threw another vicious swung, this time caving the creature’s skull. The wet crack made Ellie scream. And then the fox collapsed.
It spasmed in the bed of fiberglass a moment, gushing inky jets, as Joseph shook out his hands and Gavin dropped the pot. Then the animal lay still as its gray tongue lolled from its lips. Joseph nodded to his daughter and she stood from behind the water tank, shaking and pale.
“You okay?” Joseph asked.
“I’m…I’m fine.”
He nodded to Gavin. “You?”
“Fuckin’ hurts. Got me real good, it did. Please, water.”
Esther rummaged through Ellie’s schoolbag and came up with the water-filled milk bottle. She shuffled to her son’s side, eyes still on the fox. “Sure it’s dead?” she asked, uncapping the lid.
“I caved its brains in. That thing is not getting back up. I hope. Aw, shit.” He winced as Esther poured water over his vibrating fingers, rinsing away blood and dirt. “Think it’s infected?”
“You’re going to need a doctor, yeah,” Joseph said. “Who knows what diseases that thing had.”
“Cheers.”
“I’m just being honest. Here, we have something to stop the bleeding at least.”
Making his way to Ellie’s old sleeping spot, Joseph snatched a sanitary pad. Before he stuck it over Gavin’s palm, Esther grabbed it. “I’ll do it. Please.”
Joseph nodded and allowed her to heal her son. He couldn’t imagine the cocktail of emotion swimming through her mind right now.
 A small bead of red seeped through the cotton instantly. “That okay?” she asked.
“Much better. Thank you. I just pray we get out of here in time before it goes septic.”
“We will. I promise.”
A white lie, Joseph knew, but he understood. He’d told those very lies to his own daughter when the flood hit.
As Ellie moved cautiously toward the fox, Joseph joined her. The creature’s cracked head shone, brain matter visible and looking like soggy cereal as its wide eyes stared frozen in anger.
“I have an idea,” Ellie said. “Can you…lift it? I know it’s disgusting but I want to know.”
“Sure.” Joseph didn’t give himself time to back out, instead he hunkered down and worked his hands beneath the fox. Cold, wet fur slid along his open palms. He rose to his feet and grunted from the weight, heavier than expected. The fox’s ruined head swung from its broke neck, dripping ink-like fluid. It stunk like shit.
“Ugh,” Ellie cried, covering her nose. She made her way across the beams to the hatch. “Come on, drop it in.”
Joseph followed, moving like a trapeze artist across the wood before kneeling by the hatch. Then he let the creature drop. He backed away as the splash erupted, then, noticing Ellie’s saucer-like eyes, crawled back to the edge of the hole. Down in the floodwaters of the second story, a faint sizzling erupted, followed by a stream of fast bubbles, as if he’d just plopped a pack of painkillers. Then came the fumes, rotten and heavy.
“Oh my god,” Esther shrieked, covered her nose and backing away. “That’s foul.”
“Foul as fuck,” Joseph agreed, continuing to watch as the surface turned soupy with dissolving flesh and hair.
“What does that mean, though?” Ellie asked. “There must be something in the water they don’t like. There is a weakness here.”
“For them, yeah,” Joseph said. “But not for the Kelpie. It spends most the time down there.”
“But it never gets too close. It has never climbed onto our roof. Think about it, since the first night, it hasn’t gone by the barn, it always comes around back. And why did it climb on Gavin’s roof, but not ours?”
“She’s right.” Joseph looked to the other two who still guarded their faces against the smell. Outside, with Kathy and the caretaker, the stench had carried on the high winds, masked by the rain, but stuffed inside their cramped quarters? It was thick and nauseous.
“The barn,” he said. “Esther, what was in the barn, just a road gritter?”
“And barrels of road salt,” she said. “A whole heap of them. Douglas bought them out of pocket to clear every driveway along the lane each winter.”
“Salt,” Joseph repeated. He recalled the trout, their distinctly sharp taste and lack of fight when Ellie fished them from the rooftop. “It doesn’t like salt.”
The realization sent a shock of hope through him. His heart galloped.
“Being down there for god-knows-how-long,” Esther said, “Maybe its built up an immunity. But with enough of it? It could work. You said yourself, Da, it looks weak. Could it be the salt doing it? Works on its little puppet freaks, anyway.”
“And there are barrels of it down in the barn.”
Joseph looked to Gavin’s ruined hand. One dip in the germ-ridden waters and that wound would go septic in seconds. Esther was out of the question, too. She was too slow. He himself couldn’t even swim. Looking to Ellie, his stomach tightened with fear. His little girl.
“Let me go,” she said. Not a question or a plea for permission. A statement.
Esther regarded the teen. “Before you do, and I know you’re eager, but let’s find these books. Just in case. We can’t send you down there without being sure of what we’re up against. There’s got to be something in one of Douglas’s old—”
“We don’t have time,” she snapped. “The longer we put this off, the more likely that thing is to wake. I have to do this now.”
As tears stung Joseph’s eyes, all he could say was, “She’s right. We have to let her go. In the morning.”
Let her go…Let her go…
“It’s almost sunset.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
 
 
“Esther…”
The familiar voice invaded the attic like a termite, wriggling into the wood and causing Joseph to shiver. All four fell silent as a torrent of rain slapped the roof and dribbled through the hole. Outside, the storm had worsened, and inside, they cowered.
“It’s him,” Esther said. She pulled her jacket tight across her chest as color faded from her cheeks. Her eyes sunk into their hollow sockets, refusing to leave the sliver of maroon sky the ruined roof permitted. “I knew he’d come back.”
“Da,” Ellie said, grabbing his arm, “We have to do this now. It’s almost nighttime, we might not get another chance.”
Joseph’s nostrils flared and he licked his cracked lips, feeling the noose of time strengthen around his neck. “I can’t let you go out there with him.”
“Then distract him.”
“Ellie, in the morning. Do you hear me?”
A thump caused Ellie to squeeze his forearm—one just above their heads. Silence. Then something screeched along the shingles.
Eeeeer…
“Esther,” Douglas called again, his voice mashed like a drunkard’s. “I found my scythe.”
Fear gripped Joseph’s chest. His legs became unsure and moved by their own accord, away from the hole in the roof.
A scythe. A dead man with a scythe.
“Washed up by the Rourke house,” Douglas called, his slurred words right above them now. “Imagine the chances? That was by the back door near the chicken coupe, ‘member? You told me to wash it with the hose before I put it in the shed. Never did get around to doing that, did we? Well, it got a nice wash from Fenton’s reservoir.” He laughed at that, a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan. “Can I come inside, honey? It’s raining out here.”
His ‘r’s became ‘w’s, each word a slopping, wet sound. Joseph fought not to imagine the ruined face from which they fell. The lack of lips and glistening sinew. The character from Hellraiser came to mind.
You’re losing it. Get it together for Ellie, Joe.
“Is it really you?” Esther cried, her loud burst causing Ellie’s grip to tighten on Joseph. He imagined those words shot from her throat with their own force, needing to come out. “Douglas, please…”
“Essie,” Douglas said. “Remember our trip home, when we visited my father? He nicknamed you the elusive Loch Essie. Fitting come today, aye?”
“Stop.”
“You asked, didn’t you? Or how about when we first bought this house? Having to live in the caravan while my construction buddies replaced the asbestos roof. Got it for a pretty penny at that auction, didn’t we? Celebrated with a bottle of cheap bubbly because it’s all we could afford after. Or, Essie, how about the time we gave up little Gavin?”
Joseph noted Gavin’s silence, how he stared at something no one else could see in the walls and the beams.
“The ferry trip to England. The sweat gleaming on your face when he sucked his first breath and the doctors told us it was a boy. I know he’s in there.”
Ellie’s mouth opened and closed but her throat only permitted a tea-kettle hiss. Nothing more.
“We held you,” Douglas said, words clearly aimed at Gavin. “Held you for a good long while before the nuns came. For an hour, almost, we were a family for almost an hour. Did you know that, child?”
“He’s trying to scare us,” Gavin said, moving closer to his mother. “That’s all. It’s not him. It’s that thing, making him say it.”
“Oh, it’s me, Gavin. It’s Daddy. And I’m home.”
Eeeeeer…
The scraping caused Joseph’s teeth to clench as a harsh wind dragged the rains across the roof. Pronounced footsteps followed, inching closer to the jagged hole. “Now,” Douglas said, voice raised against the lashing deluge. “Essie, why not tell the boy why we really gave him up for adoption?”
“Douglas!”
“Esther!” He laughed—a sound like slapping meat. “Honey, I think it’s important the boy knows the truth.”
“Please stop.”
“Gavin, your mother had an affair, believe that? I half-expected you to come out a different color, how your mother behaved back then.”
“You were a drunk!” Esther cried.
“I was a drunk but I was committed, Essie.”
“To the fucking bottle. Don’t do this. Please, don’t do this.”
“Aye, Gavin. I still canny think about that without a little bit of heat rising in my stomach. Had to get rid of the bastard, that’s how I put it. That’s what I called you, aye. The wee bastard. That’s what you were to me. Still are.”
Gavin shifted, fingers teasing the moss green suit jacket.
Silence from above. “Aye, that’s it. Come out and see your old man. Come on, my son.”
Esther’s quavering hands worked around Gavin’s forearm as she curled into him, shaking.
“You weren’t there,” she said. “Bottles and books, all escape, all the time. You weren’t there.”
“But you loved those stories, didn’t you? Loved when I read you a happily-ever-after at night or at the hospital. But me, I always loved the grittier tales. Tír Na nÓg, that’s a good ‘un. Know why I preferred them stories, Essie? Because they’re more real than the rest.”
A shadow slipped across the sliver of sky. Then nothing.
“Should’ve paid more attention to those stories, honey. Would’ve saved you a lot of hassle now.”
“You weren’t there,” Esther repeated, more to herself and into Gavin’s arm. “You weren’t there.”
“Aye…” Something blocked the evening clouds, something dark red and shroud in shadows. “But I’m here now. I’m home.”
Esther screamed as the faceless abomination glared inside the attic. Chewed flesh curled outward, like a face on the bad end of a grenade explosion. Grey chunks clung to browned muscle, two crusted eyes nestled inside hamburger-terrain, one half-closed, the other far too wide. A row of crooked, yellowed teeth glistened with spit, and below the ruined head swung a purple tie.
Then came the scythe, curled metal slipping inside the attic like a Velociraptor’s claw. “Little pigs, little pigs, let me in.”
The kitchen table disappeared, flung down the roof. A splash erupted as a chilling gust blew inside, carrying the stench of decay.
Douglas worked his way inside the attic with clumsy stinted movements. The scythe’s wooden handle was almost the length of his body. Once down on the support beams, he regarded the attic with cataract eyes.
“I’m home.”
He stepped toward them and up came the scythe, readied, the blade dripping floodwater. Ellie dashed behind the water tank, and Joseph braced on unsteady legs. He stood between the dead man and his wife and son.
“It’s them I want,” Douglas said. “My family. This is my home, Joseph.”
Joseph matched him pace for pace, keeping equal distance. He raised his arms, palms out. “Put it down. Please. Don’t do this.”
The ridiculous request came by necessity. A useless ask.
“Canny tell a man what to do in his own fucking home, you stupid Mick.”
Keep him talking, Joseph thought, all the while eying the foot hole he’d left in the roof on their first day. Just a few more steps…
Douglas’s decaying eyes fell to Esther. Joseph whistled, grabbing his attention back. “Under the thumb of Tony Fenton your whole life and now owned by that thing outside, how’s it feel to never be your own man, Douglas?”
“You’ll do,” Douglas said, and any trace of humor vanished from his voice. His ruined face quivered from a smile. “Oh, you’ll do.”
The swing came fast, the blade cutting the air with an audible whoosh—inches from Joseph’s chest. Still, Joseph heard himself say, “Not good enough, old man.”
Another step. Douglas’ filth-crusted shoe landed on the soft carpet of fiberglass. Inches from the hole in the roof. Joseph retained eye contact.
That’s it. Keep your eyes on me. Do. Not. Look. Do--
The crash was instant, an explosion of roof and dust, and Douglas’s left leg vanished down the hole. He dropped the scythe and snatched a floor beam. Then came the sizzle. Steam gushed from around the hole as he screamed, spitting inky fluid that splattered the fiberglass. He spasmed as his vocal cords stretched, and Joseph caught movement from the side of his vision.
Gavin. Reaching for the scythe.
And two things happened simultaneously.
Gavin swooped for the nub on the wooden handle, and Douglas’s hand shot out and swiped the implement. The dead man swung the scythe in an angry half-circle—and two of Gavin’s fingers thumped the floor. The young man screamed and back-peddled, crashing into the boxes by the water tank as crimson pumped from the wounds. Esther raced for her son as Douglas, with the scythe readied, pulled himself from the crack in the roof.
His leg was gone.
His soaked suit pants flapped, dripping water, empty. He held a roof beam for support. And even missing a face, Joseph registered the pure anger emanating from the man.
Corpse. It’s not a man. A puppet. That’s all.
“Almost got you, boy. Almost. Come on and try again. I want you.”
Gavin screamed, thrashing as his wound spilled across his knuckles, down his arm. Esther grabbed a shirt and began ripping the material into strips.
“I want you,” Douglas repeated, and the sour stench from his dissolved limb made Joseph gag. Then his eyes landed on Ellie crouched by the tank. “Or her. I’d take her.”
Joseph saw red.
Everything else in the world fizzled as easily as the old man’s leg in the floodwaters. He’d known anger before, yes, but not like this. It thrummed through him and burst from his very pores like the walls of the reservoir coming down. No one was getting near his Ellie. No one. He only realized he’d grabbed for the scythe when it happened.
Douglas spat cold blood in his eyes but Joseph ignored the move and threw a head-butt. His forehead connected with slimy meat. Douglas balked and shoved the scythe upward. A cold pinprick ripped Joseph’s chest. Again, he ignored it. With his left hand on the scythe, he pushed the dead man. And Douglas collapsed on the fiberglass.
Joseph brought the scythe above his head—and slammed the business end down.
Douglas’ head snapped sideways from the force, his crusted face bursting. With a yell, Joseph brought the scythe up again, and slammed it home. Another explosion of flesh. Again and again he crashed the weapon into the dead man’s head, until a faint crackle came from beneath his feet. The roof. Joseph dropped the scythe as the weak plaster gave way, and Douglas’ body crashed through the attic. The splash echoed beneath their feet, followed by a now-familiar sizzle, and all the while, Gavin screamed and screamed. Esther’s wailing soon joined her son’s, and somewhere out in the flood, the Kelpie cried, too.
 
*****
 
“It’s got nothing left,” Esther said. They sat by the water tank, pale and shaking. Three holes littered the attic floor now, the stench of decayed meat swimming up through the second story to hot-box the cramped quarters. Gavin was passed out by the boxes, his hand tied off at the wrist with a scrap of t-shirt. They’d repeated their sanitary pad quick-fix, one for each finger, but Joseph didn’t know if the man would make it. Without immediate medical attention, the clock was ticking.
“They’re all dead now,” Esther said. “Even…him.” She aimed her words at the second story, where her husband’s body had become one with the cause of all this madness. Joseph imagined if he peered down, he’d find a solitary purple tie floating among the mess. He tried his best not to look at the severed fingers on the pink flooring.
“I can’t believe that thing did that to him,” Esther cried, tears coming hard and fast as she slapped a palm to her lips. “He was a good man, Joseph, he really was. We had our bad times like anyone else but he was a kind-hearted soul.”
“I know,” Joseph said, though he didn’t know what to believe anymore. “That wasn’t him talking. I’m certain of that.”
He didn’t. Wasn’t sure what the Kelpie could dredge up from the depths of a cold brain, but part of him wanted to believe it. Had Esther cheated? Did Kathy have a perverse affair with her caretaker? What other depraved notions lurked in the darkness of these people’s minds, just waiting to surface?
“I just…I just want this to end,” Esther said, and eyed the cobweb-covered roof.
Joseph gasped as Gavin drew a sharp breath in his sleep. Still alive. For now. But time was running short. He cocked a thumb to the stack of boxes, now crumpled from Gavin’s fall. “It’s almost dark out. Our best bet is searching these books. We might find something. Come morning, Ellie can—” he sucked a deep breath, hating what he had to say, but added, “—Ellie can dive for the barn and let the salt loose.”
The teen didn’t so much as flinch, knowing what had to be done. She stared at the wall, seeing something Joseph couldn’t.
Ignoring the harsh stench that seemed to cling to his very pores, Joseph crossed to the boxes and pulled one free. Ripping back the taped-down flaps, he found them. Douglas’s old volumes. “Here,” he said, “We’ve got ‘em.”
He doled out a handful of books between Esther, Ellie and himself, their covers dusty and their spines cracked. He eased himself down on the beam beside the others and began to read. The first book, an anthology from the ‘70s, contained modernized fairytales and poems written by Irish authors. No use. The second, Stories of Irish Horror contained lesser-known tales by writers of the Emerald Isle but, again, no reference to the Kelpie at a glance. Then he found something useful. The book, a case-bound cover contained a painting of a black horse on a fog-shroud riverbank was titled, The Demon Horse of Lomond. A novel by a Scottish author named Francis Campbell, published in 1971.
“This could help us,” he muttered, and scanned the text. The story, written much like any other pulp horror of the day, followed a family who moved from the USA to the highlands of Loch Lomond while the father worked the local park. The first run-in with the beast came when it devoured a red deer on a hiking-trail to which local authorities brushed off as a sadistic hunter. Of course, no one believed the old man’s tale of catching sight of the water demon the night before, and the novel traipsed the usual well-worn road of dark fiction of the day. Skipping what he could, Joseph honed in on passages addressing the demon itself. A decayed horse. Check. Vicious. Double-check. Freshwater lake, chec--
“Wait.” Joseph skimmed the next two chapters. “Freshwater. Freshwater. Fresh…it’s salt. You’re absolutely right. If Francis Campbell is to be believed. The thing hates salt.”
“I told you,” Ellie said. “It never goes near the barn. One of the barrels must be leaking. I’ve got to get the others open.”
“In the morning. No one is leaving the attic when the sun’s down.”
As he continued reading, Joseph tried his damnedest not to get sucked into the story and only search for useful passages. The last time he’d read fiction, he and Sarah had made a point of reading two novels a month together, plucking old paperbacks from the aisles of second-hand shops in Dublin as a treat. The memory caused something to twist inside him but he pressed on, already dreaming of a day he could rest easy with a book in hand and his daughter by his side. At the start of the second act of the book, the father, a recovering drunkard—Joseph caught the obvious nod to The Shining—falls off the wagon and ends up in a pub near Loch Lomond. While the bartender serves up pint after pint and the father breaks down about his belief in the sea creature, he then notices something odd about the barman. His signature boot heel click on the hardwood becomes apparent. Not from shoes at all, as the father believed, but from hoofs. The Kelpie, disguised as a--
“You’re kidding me.”
Joseph lowered the text, squeezed the bridge of his nose as a fresh headache pulsed in his temples, joining the aching of his cheek.
“What?” Ellie asked. “Find something?”
“It’s been that thing all along.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They weren’t deformed. They weren’t themselves. Kathy, the caretaker, Douglas…it was disguising itself as them.” He recounted the passage to the girls, reading entire pages as they fell on the same conclusion as himself. He could imagine that abomination catching the bodies before dragging them to the thicket by the mountains where it stashed the corpses in the high branches. There, it would study the contours of the flesh, the molding of their faces--shapeshifting. Becoming Kathy, becoming the caretaker. Not reanimating, no, but taking their form…Except for the legs. He recalled Kathy’s shaky movements, the jagged angles below her knees. They’d been up close and personal all this time.
A shiver ran through him. “It wanted me to lose my temper. Wanted me to break the skin and find bone. So I’d be stuck to it. Jesus…” He recalled slamming the wood of the scythe into Douglas’s face over and over, exposing skull, his own hand just inches away. When he lifted the body into his arms, just one slip up, one brush of a finger and he’d have fused to the creature. Then Douglas—the Kelpie—would pull him down into the depths. How Kathy and her caretaker wanted them to break the skin. To expose bone. Would he return to coax Ellie into the flood, too? The notion turned his stomach.
Esther grimaced. “Then their actual bodies are still out there in the trees. Decomposing.”
“It’s sick,” Ellie said, throwing down a paperback. “I’m more than ready to kill this fucking thing. I’d go now if you’d let me.”
“No. It’s sick but, as Gavin said, it’s not stupid.”
“Well as soon as the sun comes up. The minute it comes up. I’m going down there. I’m ending it.”
Joseph knew she would. Her enthusiasm stroked his own fire. And even when the Kelpie cried on the moors again, a harsh sound putting him on edge, Ellie yelled back. As her nostrils flared and her eyes widened, she shook her head. “I’m killing this fucking thing come sun up. Just you wait and see.”
As Gavin shivered and cried out in his sleep, Joseph waited.
He knew the Kelpie was doing much the same.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
 
 
Ellie jolted as Joseph tapped her shoulder. As her groggy eyes fell into focus, she scratched her scalp and stretched. “What time is it?”
“Just after five, I’d say. I let you get some rest.”
She nodded. “Have you slept at all?”
“Yes,” Joseph lied. “Couple of minutes here and there.”
His body thrummed with exhaustion, but each time Joseph closed his eyes, he saw that scythe creeping through the hole in the roof, saw Douglas’s melting body pull itself from the second story as flesh slopped from his decomposing limbs. The pain in his face and the constant itch of fiberglass refused him rest, never mind the never-ending cramps from lack of food. He wouldn’t sleep until that thing was dead.
“We only have a couple of cans of peaches left,” he said, not meaning to scare Ellie, just stating facts, and she nodded. “Few slices of old bread. The heels, of course.”
“I’ve got a headache already,” she said. “Ever get one of those? When you’re just so hungry that your head starts pounding?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Stomach feels like it’s eating itself.”
Here. He scooped the schoolbag and pulled out a can. His fingers shook as he cracked the tab and plucked a slimy peach half. “You better eat.”
“I feel almost too hungry to. Like, the idea of food is making me sick.”
“Still. Force yourself.”
They shared the meager breakfast in silence, then Ellie stood. “I better take a piss.”
He allowed the crude remark to slide as she stalked over to the hatch in the floor. While Ellie did her business, Joseph gave Esther a gentle shake as she slept beside her son. Her eyes fluttered open. He watched as dreams faded in her mind, her face falling as the world they knew came crashing back. She turned on her side and placed a hand on Gavin’s chest.
“He’s still alive,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Gavin said, and she whipped her hand back. “I am.”
She chuckled at that, a hand to her heart as the man sat up, pale but coherent. He raised his damaged hand, studied the soaked sanitary pads. “Hurts,” he said. “Really fucking hurts. I’m sorry for waking you.”
Joseph brushed off the comment. Gavin had been through enough. Throughout the night, he’d vomited twice, screaming his throat raw until he passed out. Joseph couldn’t imagine the pain.
“I think the bleeding could’ve stopped,” he hissed, though Joseph knew the stumps were most likely still leaking.
“We’re going to have to change them today,” Esther said. “The pads. It’s not going to be nice.”
“I’ll live.”
“Yes. Yes, you will.”
Ellie stalked back while adjusting her tights. She craned her neck, scanning the square of morning sky through the jagged hole. “Raining,” she said. “Would you imagine that?”
Joseph laughed. Humor to mask her true feelings, just like her mother. Sarah would be proud. Where the bravery came from, Joseph couldn’t tell, but his admiration couldn’t stay hidden. “I love you,” he said, and she scrunched her nose.
“Leave the lovey-dovey in the attic, Da. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”
“That we do.” He took a deep breath, one tinged with shaking. “I’m ready when you are.”
 
*****
 
The morning chill caused goosebumps. Fog curled along the surface of the still water, clouds of flies and midges scattered like white noise. Far off at the base of the mountain, the thicket remained shroud in mist, as if some uncaring artist had yet to paint that far. The lack of heat at least eradicated the worst of the stench, though the smell still lingered, sticking to the inside of Joseph’s nose.
“Esther says the barn has a latch,” Joseph explained. “Like the one at the side of the flats back home. We stayed up most the night talking about it.”
“Thought you said you got some sleep?”
“I lied.”
“So did I. How could I nod off with Gavin going through that. Jesus. The poor man.”
“Look, are you sure you can do this?”
“I better…I know you’re scared, Da, I’m terrified, but really, I have to.”
“I know.”
As she kicked off her runners, a wave of remorse washed through Joseph. He struggled not to pull her back inside the house—someplace safe—but instead he took deep breaths, stared at the underside of the rolling clouds.
Fuck…just fuck…
“Okay.” Ellie shook out her arms as she approached the gutter. The ominous quiet, save for the lapping water, made Joseph tense. Once at the gutter, Ellie cast a glance to the thicket. “Can’t see out there. But it’s sleeping…isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Joseph said, though part of his brain screamed they needed to be sure. He could not let her into the waters with even an iota of doubt. But she was right, they couldn’t wait. The fog might not clear at all today, and if they spent too long debating, the wouldn’t get another shot. He had to let her go.
“Be safe,” he said, as if the words meant much. He hated the cramping in his gut. “Please.”
“Of course.”
Ellie sat on the gutter and slipped her legs into the flood, hissing as she did so. “Freezing.”
“Dry clothes are ready,” he said. “Esther and I got it all prepared during the night.”
“I know. Thanks.”
He wanted to rush to her side, hug her, tell her not to do this, not to risk it, but he forced himself to remain still. To trust her. And as she took a deep breath and readied herself, he said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Then she pushed from the roof.
The splash was minimal, and Joseph raced to the edge of the roof, almost going overboard. He scanned the rippling waters as fear erupted from his core, waiting, waiting, waiting while insects scuttled across the surface and--
Nothing.
Ellie, please, come on.
He saw her in his mind’s eye—right there!—before slipping into the waters, out of sight, her fate in the hands of the flood and the legends. No protection. At the will of the world. As tears stung his tired eyes--
—She broke the surface. She sucked lung fulls of air. Coughed.
“Thank God.”
“Stop freaking out,” she said, treading water. “You’ll make me more nervous.”
“Sorry.”
“All right, look.” She eyed the tree line once more. “Keep watch. I’m going down.”
She turned, faced the barn and kicked, cutting a steady ‘V’. Joseph looked to the thicket once more, just in case, and back—and she was gone.
“Ellie?”
A ripple echoed from the spot she’d been wading and nothing more. Joseph’s hands clenched, nails biting into his filthy palms. Irrationality teased him to leap down into the depths, just chance it, figure out how to swim right now. Follow her!
He didn’t.
And as the seconds stretched, as the silence swelled to a deafening noise in his ears, he wanted to scream. Then he felt it. A muted thump from underwater. A stream of bubbles broke the surface and popped along the scum. Another heart-aching second ticked…
And she burst to the surface.
Joseph yelled in triumph as she sucked a breath, her reddened face littered with specs of dirt. She kicked to the barn and clung to the roof, allowing for a moment’s rest as she panted. Wiping her face, she gave Joseph a thumbs up and laughed. “I did it. Wow. The latch was stuck, didn’t think I’d be able to do it for a moment there, but the door’s open. Can even taste the salt on my lips already.”
“You’re doing great,” he said, though he felt like puking. As the rain increased, hissing down in an agitated blanket, he nodded. “You can do this. You’re braver than all of us put together.”
“I’ll probably need a couple of dives to find the barrels, but they’re in there. Most likely on the surface above the door, floating. Water’s salty. I hope the fecking thing chokes on it.”
“It will.”
“Well. Here goes nothing.”
She sucked another breath and pushed below. Again, Joseph wanted just a second more, a moment with her in his sight, but he gritted his teeth and bared her absence. He scanned the tree line once more as the fog curled and swayed around the trunks, briefly granting a vision of the spindly branches and--
The Kelpie was gone.
“No, no, no…”
He bobbed his head in time with the curling blanket as it teased slivers of empty branches, but--
It’s not there. Joe, it’s not there!
“Ellie!” Something ripped in his throat. “Ellie! For God’s sake, Ellie!”
He found himself ready to leap, ready to dive and cause a ruckus, demand attention to himself. On the waters by the Rourke property, something white surfaced momentarily, and slipped back below.
“Ellie, please!”
Something bubbled from out of the barn, then a white cloud hissed and broke apart, spreading across the scum. A cloud of salt. She’d gotten one barrel open.
She can’t hold her breath for that long, she has to come up! Ellie, come up already!
The creature trailed just beneath the water, approaching fast and barely visible—a suggestion of movement, gaining, gaining.
Then Ellie burst from the waters.
She splashed and rearranged herself to face Joseph, a smile on her face that only lasted a second. “What is it?”
His sentence came as a single, garbled word, “Get the fuck outta the water, it’s coming!”
The Kelpie burst from the flood about fifty meters away. It hooked a vicious arc and splashed back down in an explosion of water. Joseph recognized the motion from many shark documentaries. The creature was gaining momentum. Ellie screamed and thrashed for the barn as it disappeared back down into the depths. Hidden.
As Ellie grabbed hold of the barn, it reemerged—just feet away. She whipped her body onto the roof as it leaped, its nightmarish skull stretching for her leg. She rolled along the tin as it crashed back down, target missed.
“Ellie, get as high up as you can!”
She scrambled to the peak on hands and knees, hunkering on the spot where the cow once stood. There, she took sharp, pained breaths, batted her hair from her face.
As the floodwater wavered from the commotion, the disturbed scum pumped out a nauseous stench.
“Take that, you cunt!” Ellie screamed, and though she was crying, the anger in her voice reigned supreme. “Choke! Fucking choke!”
The rippling water lapped the gutter by Joseph’s feet. No sign of the creature.
Hiding…
“Ellie, stay up there. Don’t move.”
“I got one open, Da, I got one!”
Then something surfaced. The depleted barrel, floating off toward Gavin’s cottage. A tense silence settled.
“What’s going on? Where is she?” Esther scrambled onto the roof, her face a mask of fear. She caught sight of the teen and paled. “Did it work?”
“I got one opened,” Ellie called, frozen in place. She too scanned the waters as they calmed and the rain beat down. “Do you think it’s dead?”
“I don’t know,” Joseph said. “I don’t imagine it’d float to the surface if it was. It’s a fucking skeleton.”
“What the hell is it doing awake during the day?” Esther said, more to herself. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“Desperation,” Joseph said. “Maybe it’s giving one final kick, knowing we have it defeated.”
He prayed as much, but some primal part of his brain remained alert as the salt-cloud dissipated along the current, followed by the bobbing barrel. He hoped enough salt remained in the trapped waters to poison the beast. There’s no way he’d allow Ellie to go back down there.
Like I have a choice. That girl will do what needs doing.
“Da,” she said, and the desperation in her voice broke something inside him. “Da, I don’t want to get pneumonia out here.”
As the rain continued to sheet down, it brought with it a new terror and threat. With Ellie trapped and without shelter and the rain continuing to fall, it was only a matter of time before the sun went down and, if the Kelpie wasn’t dead, Joseph would be forced to watch as it crawled its way onto the barn and snatched her much like it had the Rourke brothers and Douglas. He’d be helpless to watch, much like Esther viewing her husband’s face being devoured by the nasty fox. And why shouldn’t he be forced to see? This wasn’t a movie—if Esther had to go through watching a loved one suffer, why shouldn’t he? That’s how the world worked. No hand-outs, no happy endings. He wasn’t special.
“Ellie, we need to get you back over here.”
Each precious moment tipped the scales in favor of her death, and Joseph’s terror boiled.
“Do you think I’ve killed it, Da?”
“I…I don’t know sweetheart, I can’t say.”
“I’m scared.”
She slowly moved to the front of the barn, staring straight down into the flood. Down there, the creature could be lurking, waiting to burst up and clamp its jaws around her terrified face. But, Joseph thought, it might be dead. And in that case, she needed to swim back. They needed her in the attic and back in warm clothes.
“Should I chance it?” Ellie asked, her voice child-like and making him want to cry.
Joseph looked to Esther, someone older, someone who might know. He pleaded without words.
Esther licked her cracked lips. “I can’t say. I really can’t. This is up to her.”
Thunder boomed and brought yet more rain.
Joseph, make a fucking call, for God’s sake, that’s your daughter!
“You can’t stay there, Ellie. If that thing is still alive, it’s showing up fully charged when night rolls around.”
“It’s the safest bet,” Ellie said, more to herself. Then she faced her father. “I have to chance it. I’m just…I’m fucking terrified, Da.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know.”
She sneezed, a simple sound Joseph had heard a thousand times before, but now dropped an anchor of worry. Pneumonia. The flu. A night out here would do her in. Her immune system was strained. Her words played like a skipping record in his mind, “I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared.”
“I don’t see it anywhere,” he said. “Honey, we’re going to have to do this.”
“I know.” She cried, chewing her lower lip, an action mirrored by her mother in times of worry. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and tell her this would all be okay.
“I can’t stay here,” she said, steeling herself. “I can’t. I’ll die.”
As she peered down into the flood, she worked her hands in and out of fists. She took deep, slow breaths as rainwater spilled down her face.
“This is your choice, Ellie.”
She jumped.
The splash erupted as Joseph’s heart slammed. With the waters rippling, he took a knee by the gutter, ready to grab her hand as soon as she neared the roof and whip her out. And then he saw it. The gleaming white beneath the scummy surface, out by the barn. Approaching.
Esther screamed. “Joseph, it’s right there.”
“I know, I know.”
Come on, Ellie, come on.
The teen burst topside and sucked a breath as she kicked the waters into a froth. A sound escaped her lips, a burst of energy as she thrashed and cut for the house. Then came the scream—the Kelpie. The sound sent a wave of goosebumps up Joseph’s arms, made the small hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. He’d heard it before, but always from a distance. Up close and personal, the noise was something very different indeed.
“Ellie, come on!”
The creature slipped ever closer, but Joseph noticed something new. Its speed had diminished. The salt was working. Its body moved as if through sludge, the gathered sodium affecting its bones. Still, it pushed through and gained on Ellie, plunging deep before curling back to the surface.
Ellie reached the roof and Joseph yanked her from the waters as the Kelpie burst from behind. It crashed against the shingles, breaking two free with the force of its head before it splashed back into the flood. Joseph dragged Ellie from the edge of the roof and held her in his arms as she trembled. He wrapped himself around her as much as possible.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re here. You made it.”
“It’s not dead!” She sobbed into his chest. “I didn’t do it, it’s still down there.”
“It’s weak, Ellie. It’s not moving as fast. You hurt it bad. I don’t think it’ll be coming anywhere near the house or the barn unless it wants to die. You’ve kept it away from us.”
“But I didn’t kill it.”
“You tried. And you damn well did better than any of us. Look at me.”
She lifted her head from his chest, red eyes finding his. When she was a child, she’d come down with the flu and spent an afternoon much like this, shaking and crying and droopy-eyed, sitting on his lap as he shushed her as stroked her hair. The memory pained him, but he felt overcome by relief to have her in his arms once more. The joy flooding his system was enough to make him lightheaded. “I’m proud of you,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“Well I am. That salt is probably like too much carbon monoxide to humans. It’s poisoned, sick, weak, we stand a much better chance now, Ellie. Go on inside and get into something warm. Follow Esther.”
As the old woman took hold of his daughter’s hand and led her to the hole in the roof, Joseph took a moment to appreciate the chance they’d been granted. Things could’ve gone much differently. Part of his brain refused to accept she was here, tricking him into believing he’d gone insane from the Kelpie catching her, that last synapse snapping at the sight and plunging him into the unknown. But he’d felt her, heard her words. She was alive. She was alive.
“You coming, Joseph?” Esther asked once Ellie was inside. She lowered herself halfway down but waited for a reply.
“I’ll be there in a minute. Just…just give me one minute.”
She nodded and disappeared with Ellie’s help. And then Joseph looked out to the alien landscape of water, wondering where the creature was now. What else did it have to throw at them? The longer they waited, the more chance they had at the damn thing succumbing to poisoning, but without food and only attic tank water, time wasn’t on their side. They could wait it out now, possibly, if the thing didn’t have any more tricks left.
Joseph thought of the bodies left drifting in the waste. A couple of workers, badly decomposed by now, surely they’d be of no use to the creature. It’d taken Kathy, the caretaker, and Douglas all while fresh and in a hurry. Could it still use the bloated forms of the dead? Was it too weak to even try? He could only hope. Either way, he was not sending his daughter back down there for another salt barrel, not while the Kelpie was desperate and unpredictable. They’d wait it out. If it came down to a battle of will power, so be it. They had enough water to last a while. They’d be weak, but so would the Kelpie. They could do this.
He spotted it then, back out in the fog-shroud trees, curling up a trunk with snake-like movements. Once wrapped around the high branches, it perched and fell still—again, nothing more than a skeleton in an unlikely place.
Resting.
Joseph decided he’d rest, too. They’d wait out the Kelpie. It had nothing left to throw at them. By the time it died, or by the time rescue arrived, they’d still be alive. He was sure of that.
Another white lie.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
 
 
Joseph cursed as he spotted mold on the last of the bread. He sneezed and wiped his nose on the back of his arm, groggy and run-down. If the damn downpour would stop for just a day he could keep an eye on the creature, track its movement, but he already felt lightheaded from a lack of food, and without heat in his body, he was sure to collapse. Rolling off the gutter into the flood would do no one but the Kelpie any good. At least in here they could scheme.
“Hey. You did great.” He hugged Ellie and she returned the gesture, nodding into his chest. She’d changed clothes, but silt still clung to her skin and hair.
“It’s a start,” she said. “But we can’t just hope it rots out there, Da. It’s smarter than that. It’s going to do something to get to us, you know that well enough by now.”
“What do you think we should do?”
Ellie pulled away and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Me? I think I have to go back inside the barn.”
“Uh-uh, no way.”
“Da, this isn’t your choice. This is mine.”
“Well I’m your father, and I say you’re not going.”
She glared at him, not a hateful look, simply one that said, “You know I’m right.” And, somehow, that was worse. It was the look of an adult, through and through. This was not his little girl any more.
“It’s wounded,” she said. “I’m terrified too, okay? Jesus knows that. But we don’t have another shot. If it rests up, we’re caught in a cycle. It thinks it has us terrified, that it can get us anywhere, but you saw how it moved. It’s hurt. I have to go out there. I felt at least two more barrels. And with the doors open, they could float off. We’re working against the clock here.”
“But I don’t want you to leave.”
“I know.”
Now it was Joseph’s turn to blubber. The weight of everything came crashing. But Ellie was absolutely right. He couldn’t force her to stay with him just because he wanted her to. She had her own agency, things that needed doing. His comfort wasn’t priority. If anything, it was a detriment to their wellbeing. He understood these things, deep down, but his heart still refused to accept them.
“I understand, Ellie, I do. I’m just frightened.”
“So am I.”
He blew a breath, nodded to Esther. “How’s he holding up?”
“Badly. He’s in a bad way. God knows what that fox had when it bit him, the germs. He’s burning up. Fingers aren’t healing right, either. It’s infected. I…I don’t fecking know, Joseph.” She stroked her son’s head, a subconscious motion, the reflexes of a mother. “If Ellie doesn’t go back down there, Gavin won’t make it.”
To hell with him then, Joseph thought. That’s my daughter you’re talking about.
But instead of succumbing to his anger, Joseph simply nodded. This was Ellie’s call now, and he knew her response.
“I’m warmed up enough. I’m dry. I have to go back out there.”
“Now?”
“Da.”
He took a deep, shaking breath. “Esther, keep an eye on Gavin, use what you need to from the water tank. If this goes to plan, we won’t need the water anyway.”
She nodded in acknowledgment but her attention remained on her boy. The only thing in her world right now was him. Joseph knew how she felt.
“Da?”
“Huh?”
“Zoning out on me there. Keep your head up.”
“I’m fine, sorry.”
His gaze lingered on Gavin’s ruined hand. It could’ve so easily been Ellie. And if Gavin hadn’t leaped into action, it would be. His girl, fingerless and bleeding out…
“Stop apologizing,” Ellie said. “You’re just worried. So am I. I feel like I’ve lost my mind, and I’m starting to think that’s a good thing. Like it keeps me from over-thinking. Won’t register. But I know you love me.”
“You do?”
“You know I do…Let’s not get sappy about this, yeah? We’ve got a job to do. That’s what we’re here for.”
“You’re right.” Joseph moved aside as she climbed atop the cardboard boxes. She took a moment, wiped her brow. “And besides,” she said with a smile, “It’s just—”
She screamed as wrinkled hands shot around her face.
Ellie vanished through the roof as Joseph lunged and his fingers grazed her jeans. He crashed into the boxes, knocking them over. Shoving to his feet, he winced as the ground beneath the fiberglass cracked. He leaped, grabbing the shredded roof, and forced himself outside. Cold rain smacked his face. He ignored the water blurring his vision and scrambled onto the soaking shingles where Ellie kicked and screamed as a bloated man in a yellow jacket dragged her toward the gutter.
“Ellie!”
He bolted across the roof just as the man flung her.
Ellie screamed as she splashed into the flood. And, without thinking, ignoring the grin on the bloated, decomposing face of the dead man—Joseph followed.
The world vanished.
Sheer darkness encased him as muted bubbles drifted around his skull. A dull pressure increased as he plummeted. His chest constricted and ached. He flailed his limbs, the force of water making his actions slow, like something from a nightmare. Descending in the inky calmness, he resisted the urge to take a breath.
Then his fingers grazed denim. Ellie.
She patted his arm, his chest, before working her fist into his jumper and yanking. He imagined her there, kicking from the bottom of the farmyard toward the wavering light above. But all that seemed inconsequential as a soft relaxation overcame him. He wanted Ellie to stop pulling. It was nice down here, deep in the darkness, drifting. Away from reality. Was this what Sarah had experienced with the drink? Not caring about Ellie, about herself, just…nice. So nice.
Then a muted splash came from someplace far away. The Kelpie back in the waters.
Joseph inadvertently yelled as a stream of bubbles left his lips and danced topside. Ellie yanked again and his feet left the ground for a moment. He understood what she needed him to do. Joseph kicked from the earth, and his daughter pulled, but the water shoved him back down. His chest burned now. And as he fell, his shoulder grazed the brickwork of the farmhouse. An idea struck.
Working his fingers blindly across the house, his palms came across metal. The gutter. He latched on, and when Ellie pulled again, he climbed the gutter like an over-sized rope.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
Panic. His fingers trembled, snatching again and again, he drifted upward, his daughter’s yanking becoming more frantic. She was losing oxygen. He wanted to scream at her to go, go, go, get up and fill her lungs, but her fist never left his shirt. He’d heard stories of people attempting to save drowning loved ones only to succumb to the same fate on account of their bravery. He now understood just how easily such a thing could happen.
And then he broke the surface.
Joseph sucked burning, cold air deep into his tired lungs. Beside him, Ellie wheezed and coughed, her eyes wide as golf balls and her arms still around him. Clinging onto the gutter, Joseph scrambled back onto the roof before grabbing hold of his daughter and dragging her up beside him. She gasped, clutching her chest as her hair flopped onto the shingles and he fell onto his back. Esther raced across the roof.
“I held it off,” she said. “Fat fucker, it was one of the Rourke brothers, decomposed. Wasn’t much fight in him. Kicked it back into the water, don’t know where it’s gone.”
“Da, Da, are you okay?”
“I’m—I’m good, you?”
“Yeah, just—”
The Kelpie burst from the flood and screamed before slamming back down, splashing them. Joseph grabbed hold of his daughter and pulled her to the peak, his heart punching like a trained fighter.
“It should be dying!”
“It is,” Joseph said, the words hurting his stinging lungs. “It’s a last ditch effort and nothing more, Ellie. Hear it scream? It’s dying. You did it.”
Something slammed the farmhouse, a pulse shooting up his legs.
“What’s it doing?”
Another slam.
“It’s getting inside the house. I think it broke a window.”
“The attic.”
“Huh?”
“It’s getting inside the attic, Da.”
“Come on.”
Joseph raced to the missing shingles just as Gavin yelled from inside the house. He leaped down inside while holding the edges, careful not to plunge straight through to the second story. As soon as his feet found spongy fiberglass, he turned and helped Esther and his daughter down.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
Joseph froze at the sight before him. The thing crawling through the hole in the fiberglass wasn’t human, wasn’t animal, an otherworldly shape made of slopping flesh and bone. Esther’s instincts kicked and she raced across the attic to her son, dragging him toward the back wall.
“Hey!” Joseph yelled, grabbing hold of a support beam to stay upright. His lungs still screamed, a sharp pain ghosting from his chest to his throat. “We know what you are.”
The thing ignored Joseph as it got upright. Humanoid head slopping what looked like mozzarella cheese. Stink water dripped from its decaying, bald head. In the low light, it shambled towards Esther as she cradled her son, and Joseph saw it clearly now: the feet ending in hooves. An abomination. A shapeshifter.
“What do you want?” Joseph tried. The surrounding area provided no weapons. No pots or sharp sticks or breakables. They all lay beyond the Kelpie by the boxes.
Joseph rose his fists and took a tentative step forward. “I’m taking to you.”
Then the Kelpie shambled left—toward the water tank. What served as a throat clicked and bobbed.
Joseph didn’t have time to react before the thing peered down inside the tank—and vomited. Thick, black liquid sloshed from its lips, plonking into the drink. It coughed, hacked, and puked again. And as the monster rose and turned, a smile spread on its glistening lips. Joseph’s eye twitched. His breathing intensified.
But when the monster shambled left, toward the boxes, Joseph gasped. Before he could act, the thing extended a shaking hand, flesh slopping from the bone. One snapped finger glistened with raw sinew, and jabbed forward. A pop was followed by a gush of air. The mattress.
Joseph charged.
“You fucking cunt. You absolute cunt!”
He slammed against the bloated form, throwing it to the boxes. They crashed and the creature screamed, an alien sound blasting Joseph in the face. He winced at the smell of rot, almost throwing up, too.
“Da,” Ellie yelled. “Don’t! He wants you to hurt him, don’t!”
She was right. As much as his fists demanded he slam them against the abomination’s face, if he so much as exposed a single cheek bone, he’d become fused and at the mercy of the beast. He leaped from the Kelpie and shambled back toward Ellie, standing halfway between her and it.
“Does it hurt?” he asked. His voice quivered. “The salt wracking your bones? That’s my daughter’s doing. And there’s plenty more out there. We’ll outlast you. You can ruin our water, try to scare us, but we’ll outlast you. Sooner or later, you’ll be too weak to get in that saltwater again. But not us. Not my Ellie.”
As he continued to talk, one of the thing’s eyes slipped upward beneath the lid. The remaining eye failed to focus as it stepped forward, and with a twitching hand, grabbed hold of its right arm. Joseph winced at it clawed the decayed flesh. Trails of red opened as it raked filthy nails again and again, splitting skin. Crimson oozed and dripped to the fiberglass—exposing bone.
“Try it,” Joseph said, though the words came smaller than intended. The Kelpie shambled closer. A flash of movement caught Joseph’s eye.
Behind it, Esther rose to her feet and matched it step for step.
Joseph maintained eye contact. “Come on. Try and get me, you freak.”
The thing worked dead crusted fingers inside the fresh cuts on his right arm. With a wet ripping sound, it drew its fingers upward, widening the gash—bone glistened within the vicious cuts. Blood rained down and splashed the floor. “For you,” it wheezed, the voice otherworldly and garbled. “Joseph, for you.”
And Esther shoved it from behind.
The thing toppled forward, smacking its head on the roof before plunging through the hatch. The splash erupted along with a sizzle, and finally, the last of the corpse dissolved on impact. The smell was instantaneous and violent, like someone opening a jar with something long dead inside. Joseph covered his nose and gagged, backpedaling and almost forgetting his footing. As the sizzle died down, he chanced a breath, and listened as something thumped the house again from below.
“It’s scrambling to get out to the trees,” Esther said. “Can’t find a window.”
“Can’t see straight,” Joseph said. “Good. The salt is working.”
“But our water.” Ellie traipsed along the beams, her movement shaky as she peered into the tank. “It’s all black. There’s chunks in it.” She grimaced as she faced him. “We have no water, Da.”
“Rain water,” he tried. “We have pots. Jesus, we have something. We’re smart. We can gather some.”
“Can we gather enough, though?” Esther asked.
“We can try.”
Gavin awoke and screamed.
 
*****
 
“How bad is it, let me see?”
Joseph crouched and took Gavin’s bad hand. Heat emanated from his skin. “You’re burning up bad. I’m not going to lie, man.”
“Am I going to die?” Gavin’s sunken eyes remained unfocused, eyelids fluttering.
“No,” Esther said with a false smile. “Why would you even think like that?”
Her lie grated Joseph. He understood her need for false hope—as much for Gavin’s comfort as her own. A fairytale world from parent to child. An attempt at protection. He’d done it himself over and over. So had Sarah. So had his own mother in times of distress.
“You can’t protect him from this,” Joseph said. “Esther, I understand, you lost your husband. This is your son. But the truth matters more. You can’t lie like that. Not now.”
Oh, how the tables turn, he thought. Back in what seemed like another life, Esther scowled him for clinging to hope for his daughter’s sake. Telling white lies in the hopes of help arriving. She’d dashed his attempts in favor of cold, hard facts because she was alone. It was easier to accept the truth when you only had yourself to think about.
“Don’t lie to him, Esther. Look at his hand. Look.”
With tears in her eyes, she forced herself to view the wound. The sticky browned blood. The yellowed pad. Each second stretched her face, aged her visibly. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Gavin, it’s bad.”
The skin around the sanitary pad had bruised, a sickening hue of overripe fruit. Joseph could only imagine the havoc the fiberglass particles were causing on the open sores. He’d lost a lot of blood. Without a hospital, a real doctor, Gavin would most likely pass within a day.
“Hold on, Gavin,” Esther said, and stroked his forehead. “I’m here for you now.”
He smiled at that. A weak gesture.
“What time is it?” Ellie asked.
“Middle of the day,” Joseph said. “We’ve still got some sunlight.”
“What else can it throw at us?” She sounded tired, fed up. “There can’t be more bodies. It wouldn’t get desperate enough to ruin our water if it had options. That second brother was slop. Hardly a shape at all. It’s fucking over.”
“So you’re not thinking of opening more barrels down there?”
“Do you think I should?”
Joseph weighed their options. It was desperate. Awake at daylight, ruining their water supply. A last ditch effort. No, Ellie wouldn’t need to dive again. A battle of the wills now. The Rourke brothers were gone. Kathy and the caretaker, gone. Douglas and the fox. Gavin was here. There weren’t any other usable forms.
“You won’t need to dive, honey. You’re right. It’s all out of tactics.”
“Then what the hell is that?” Esther said.
As she cocked her head, Joseph heard it, too. Yes, a humming. A female voice. It echoed from somewhere out in the flood. Ethereal. Familiar.
“It sounds like a lullaby,” Esther mumbled.
At first, Joseph thought the woman had lost it. Then he heard it more clearly. A melody. One he knew all too well.
Something inside him broke, hardened walls built up over years that finally shattered and flooded his system with a feeling he thought long lost. It drowned him, consumed him, and tears filled his eyes, as if this emotion were overflowing from his very being. Grief.
“It’s that Kookaburra song,” Joseph said, his words far away to even himself.
Esther cocked her head. “The what song?”
“An old nursery rhyme…We—we had it on tape back when Ellie was born. Found it in a second-hand shop when we were looking for clothes. Sarah played it every time we went for a drive. Sundays. Three in the afternoon, like clockwork. Trips to Glendalough. Ellie in the backseat. Do you remember this song, Ellie?”
The teen’s face became a mask of horror. Her too-wide eyes focused on something Joseph couldn’t see. She was someplace else now, much like himself. A different world. One where a young girl sat in the back of a beat-up Ford with her mother and father chatting up front. A sunny day in a world that now seemed like make-believe. “I remember this song,” she said. Her voice became a whisper. “Every word of it.”
Joseph’s legs worked by their own accord as he grabbed hold of an overhead beam and made his way for the hole in the roof.
“Joseph?” Esther called. “Joseph, listen to me. You can’t go out there. It’s a trick and you know it. It’s not the truth.”
False hope, some still-rational part of his brain fired. But the need to believe quenched that remark. How was this even possible?
“It’s lying to you,” Esther tried, almost shouting. “Joseph, please. Ellie, stop your father.”
But she, too, remained still, captivated by the sweet sound. The sound that made gooseflesh break on Joseph’s arms and his heart beat with joy and possibility. What if. What if.
“It’s a lie,” Esther said, but Joseph worked his way on top of the cardboard boxes, allowing a billow of cold wind and rain to blast him full force. The loving voice was louder up here, dancing its way through the downpour.
“Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree… Merry, merry king of the bush is he…”
A warmth Joseph thought once lost burst through his core, shielding him like armor from the cold. Sarah. His love. Despite it all. Right then, the previous bad years of their relationship fled, replaced by the usual butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling he’d gotten while waiting for her at a bar or the cinema on a Saturday. Always nervous she’d turn tail as soon as she set eyes on him. Too beautiful, too incredible a human to be with a low-life such as himself.
Ellie joined him as they made their way onto the roof, and, in the dull light, someone stood atop the barn.
And once more, they became a family.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
 
 
She stood silhouetted on the barn, a black figure with her hands clasped before her. Her hair billowed in the wind, framing slender shoulders that Joseph urged to touch. He’d forgotten this feeling—seeing her, how she made him nervous and self-conscious, but most of all—how she made the world made sense. The destruction of his home, the existence of mythological creatures, none of that mattered right now. Not at this second. If he had Ellie and Sarah, he could do anything, go anywhere. He was whole.
“Hi, honey.”
Her voice caressed his senses, exploding any semblance of coherent thought. Beside him, Ellie took his hand.
“I’ve missed you,” Sarah said, and her words trailed with a giggle. A soft chuckle of his own fizzled Joseph’s stomach. One he only now missed. One he didn’t hear was tinged with insanity. Each passing second dredged more lost emotions from the well of his mind. Good feelings, ones he’d forgotten ever even existed.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he heard himself say, though this newfound sense of wholeness dulled any conscious effort. He didn’t want to ask, “how?” as something small and quiet still burned with rationality inside him. This was fake. A trick. But could he just have it a moment? Was false hope so wrong?
“Ellie, my baby.” Sarah brought her hands up to her face. And though the darkness obscured detail, Joseph imagined she was smiling. The darkness. She was too dark…Again, Joseph dulled the spiking doubt, dashed the screaming in the back of his brain.
“She’s grown so fast, hasn’t she, Dad?”
Dad. Sarah always called him Dad in those early days, much as he’d called her Mum. It started out as a joke to make each other feel old, feel more responsible than they’d ever imagined. But over time, it morphed, sounded right. Sounded good. Dad and Mum and Baby. Their names, for a while.
“She’s so beautiful. She looks even more like you now, Dad. Her nose. Her cheeks. Her eyes are still mine, though. So pretty.”
“How’s this possible?” Ellie asked. The tightness in her voice slapped the rational side of Joseph’s thoughts. He tightened his hold on Ellie’s hand. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Sarah said, “Remember the trips to Glendalough? I was just thinking about them before you came out here. I was singing, did you hear me?”
You know damn well I heard you, Joseph thought, but the emotional struggle deep inside refused to conclude. Rationality still denied him its cooperation.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Sarah said. “I’m freezing. I don’t know how I got here, but I thought, if I just sing to calm myself down, Joe and Ellie will find me eventually. And of course you did. You’d never let me down. Not ever. I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Da,” Ellie said. And her next words slithered through. “It’s a trick.”
“I know.”
But did he? Could the Kelpie have risen her from the dead, just maybe? If that was true, though, why wasn’t she the shambling mess she’d become in her final years? Why was she his Sarah again, the woman who owned his heart? It was a trick. Of course it was.
As tears welled in his eyes, he saw her now, saw her clearly. Her arms, not of flesh, but of harsh and cracked soot. Ash. She was made of ashes. The grainy formation glistened, and he smelled her now, too, yes, not a stench coming from the flood, but from Sarah, rotting and putrid. Floodwater. She was held together by floodwater.
Her ashes. Joseph remembered the bang against the roof as the car dislodged itself down in the yard. He recalled the stream of bubbles breaking the surface. And the Kelpie, making a hasty retreat to the tree line. It’d taken her. Stolen her from him. Re-shaped itself in her image, just as it had the others.
Ellie gasped. “Look at her feet.”
The sight dislodged a scream in Joseph’s throat. Her slender legs widened below the knees, ending in a mockery of the human form. Hooves. An abomination.
Sarah cried then, her hair now more like clumped tentacles than locks of gold. Her sniffles ripping something in Joseph’s very soul. Oh, how he still needed to comfort her.
Not her, it’s not her!
“Joe,” Sarah said. “It’s inside me. Making me say these things. It hurts. What’s happening?”
“Sarah?”
“It’s me, honey. I’m—I’m so scared, please. Make it stop.”
“It’s lying,” Ellie said. “Joe, it’s a trick and you know it. It’s not her. It never was. Never will be. It knows things about her. That’s all.”
“How can you be sure?” he said. “What if—I mean, what if she—”
“I never loved him.” Sarah’s shoulders fell lax. A crack formed on her arm. “Richard. That selfish, gambling eejit. I never did. I made a mistake. You’re my family, and we can be together again.”
“Stop it.”
“Why didn’t you come and get me that night, Joseph?”
Ellie released his hand. “What’s it talking about?”
“It?” Sarah gasped. “It’s me, Ellie. The night before I passed. Your dad never answered the phone.”
Something clicked in Joseph’s dry throat. “Stop. Stop this right now.”
A recollection fumbled from the gunk of his memory bank, sour and vile. One that kept him up nights in those early days. One he thought lost and forgotten yet here it was, as rotten and unwelcome as ever.
“I called him,” she said. “Eight at night, when I knew he’d be free. Rang him three times. Left a message. Misspelled the words because my hands were shaking. I wanted to come back to him, to you, Ellie. I’d realized my mistakes, honestly, I did. Richard meant nothing and I needed to come home. I was so embarrassed. So ashamed. But even I deserved a second chance, right? But he never answered the phone. Never called me back. And so I drank some more. And some more. Without you two, I had no reason to go on. So I drank enough to know I was a lost cause. And it worked. Eventually. Your father killed me, Ellie.”
“How dare you.” Fresh anger blared through Joseph’s body, overriding the guilt. His hands shook with force. “How dare you. After all I did to try and keep us together while you fucked around with Richard fucking Kelly! How dare you!”
“Da,” Ellie said. “Don’t take the bait, it’s not real. She can’t hurt you now. No matter how much shit this thing drags up from the past. It’s in the past.”
It’s the past.
Just like the Kelpie. A rotten relic of times gone.
Joseph took a shaking breath, eyed the reservoir cradled in the mountains. The front wall, blown out because of a lack of care. That’s all. A man who put personal gain above the well-being of others. And an explosion of power destroying everything in its wake. Were Ellie not here, Joseph’s own wall would crumble. He’d succumb to the force of what lay lurking in those dark depths. And God help him or anyone around.
“Can’t you look at me, Joseph?” The Kelpie tried.
He refused to have his image of Ellie’s mother perverted. Sarah, before the bad times. It’s all he had. It would not be destroyed in favor of the abomination on the barn.
“Come and get us, you coward.” Joseph rose his head. Locked eyes with the thing wearing his wife. “Hurts you, doesn’t it? You’re scared. Panicking. It’s pathetic. What? You thought I’d launch myself into the flood to be with my wife? Sarah made her bed and lay in it. I’m not about to abandon my daughter.”
Another trail cracked along Sarah’s ash-made arm. A mewling escaped her lips.
“You’re falling apart. Just like her. It’s a good costume for you, actually. You and Sarah. Pathetic on top of pathetic. You can keep her.”
You can keep her. Why hadn’t he said something so simple to Richard instead of torturing himself for years? Ellie deserved better. He deserved better and--
There it was. The first time he’d ever admitted it or felt it true. He deserved better. Why couldn’t he ever see that? He’d never given up trying to make a better life for his family. That’s all that counted. Doing his best. Even if it came too little too late, he’d never stopped trying. They deserved better.
He opened his mouth to speak when Sarah exploded.
Wet ash blasted on the winds, slapping him and Ellie. He gagged as cold gunk worked into his mouth and eyes. Hunching, he wiped the grainy slop on his face, only managing to smear it further. Ellie cried as she did the same, her face and arms dark with the glop.
“You wear her.”
The voice rode the gale, a croaky sound coming from the barn.
“You wear her.”
The Kelpie’s bones lay strewn across the tin roof, limbs jutting at odd angles and quaking in the wind. And then the spine jiggled. Like a cobra, it curled upright, ribs cracking as they clasped like skeletal fingers. The human skull jerked as the shape reformed and elongated, dripping rainwater as the spine fell and connected, joints clicking into place.
An animal-like abomination began to take shape. More horse-like now.
Still wiping his face of the silty blotches, Joseph shoved Ellie toward the hole in the roof. “Back inside, hurry.”
Then came a splash. Joseph spun. The barn roof stood empty.
“Wh—where’s it gone, Da?”
“It’s saltwater. There’s no way it’d be desperate enough to—”
Esther and Gavin yelled from the attic and Joseph took off, skidding to his knees by the ragged hole. He launched himself inside, memory directing his fall to the beams. He crumpled on impact, quickly snatching a slanted support beam to steady himself as his kneecap bloomed with fresh, hot pain. And the roof shook.
Fiberglass buckled as something slammed against the underside again and again.
“What’s it doing, Joseph?” Esther called, holding Gavin to her chest. The man’s eyes fluttered, his head lolling to one side.
“Destroying the attic. Come on, move it!”
As the roof gave and fiberglass burst into the air, the Kelpie’s head appeared long enough for Joseph to freeze. A half-human skull, jaws stretched like a snout. It disappeared, bringing a box of Esther’s memories with it.
“Esther, you gotta get up, come on!”
“I can’t leave him here, Joseph! Please.”
Joseph gritted his teeth, bounding across the spongy floor. Through the holes, he spied rippling waters, and then a shape darted by. Giving chase. The Kelpie, clinging to the underside of the roof. It slammed the floor beneath his feet.
“Come on.” He grabbed Gavin by the collar and yanked him forward. The man groaned as a string of saliva trailed from his cracked lips.
“You’re going to have to lift him,” Esther said. “Can you do that?”
“Here.” Joseph slipped his arms beneath the man and straightened as he gasped, the weight more than expected. The lack of food in his stomach didn’t help matters, and blind spots burst before his eyes.
“Joseph, steady!”
His skull connected with a support beam and he righted himself, shaking his head. The Kelpie gave a piercing wail from beneath their feet. And then another hole blew in the fiberglass, and a jagged shard of bone protruded like a dead man’s finger. The bone sawed at the roof, the force sending a pot dancing through a nearby hole.
“Oh, Jesus,” Esther cried. She brought a hand to her lips. “Where can we go now?”
“Esther, please, move it.”
He pushed past her and hobbled for the hole. Ellie peered inside, hair swinging before her blackened face. “Come on, Da!”
“I’m going as fast as I can!”
Gavin stirred in his arms.
“What’s happening?” The man’s slurred as his eyes fluttered open. Alert, at last.
“Can you climb out onto the roof?” Joseph asked. He lowered Gavin to his feet before shaking out his arms.
“I think so. I’m woozy but I think so.”
“Then move, move, move, we’ve got seconds here.”
Something cracked before the Keplie’s nightmarish head birthed from the soggy fiberglass.
“Jesus fucking Christ, look at that thing!” Gavin scrambled atop the boxes and gave a hiss. His damaged hand shot to his chest. “Fuck, it hurts.”
“Better than being dead, come on. Up.”
Joseph displayed his hands. “Here, let me give you a boost. No way you’re grabbing hold of the edges.”
“Right.” As Gavin worked his cold boot into Joseph’s palms, Joseph made a mental count to three before shoving upward. Ellie snatched Gavin’s collar and dragged him out onto the roof—just as the attic beneath them popped like fireworks. As the Kelpie worked itself inside, its horrendous head quivered upward and its spine elongated. It screamed again, forcing itself further into the attic. Ribs jutted outward like gnarled tree branches, all twisted and wrong as bones conformed to fit through the hole, popping outward like a cobra’s hood once through.
“Esther, come on.”
The old woman reached him, breathing fast. She whined, a high pitch sound that shot from her throat like a cornered animal with nowhere else to go. Joseph directed her beneath the sliver of sky and once again cupped his palms. “A boost, Esther. Before we run out of time.”
Her shaking heel found his palm and she reached upward, clutching cracked timber overhead.
Joseph cleared his dry throat. “One…two…”
He shoved, and once again Ellie caught the old woman beneath the pits. The teen pulled Esther out into the night, and alone now, Joseph spun just as the Kelpie screamed.
The skeletal creature shaking in the attic resembled no other life form. A shambling mass of spiked, broken bone dripping floodwater. The jaws chattered, two empty eye sockets somehow peering right at Joseph and at nothing all at once. And as he watched, those spider-leg ribs clasped inward, awkwardly creating a cage despite the lack of organs to protect. Spindly legs held the weight of the undead humanoid upright. A creature only speculated about in myth and legend, spoken of in hushed voices around campfires. A demon.
The arms swung almost to its kneecaps, ending in cracked claw-like appendages. A machine built for killing. And as Joseph stood frozen to the spot, Ellie’s voice sliced through his daze, calling his name, over and over. Joseph broke his paralysis as the creature’s human teeth quivered, slimming and stretching to needle-sharp fangs. And, finally, it stopped shaking.
It was ready.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
 
 
Joseph scrambled atop the cardboard boxes and snatched Ellie and Esther’s outstretched hands. He leaped as they yanked him free of the attic where numbing rain and wind slapped his face. He pushed himself upright, hair matted to his forehead as sheet lightning flared behind swollen, black clouds. Beneath their feet, something cracked, followed by a splash.
Ellie raced for the far end of the roof, as if distance from the hole helped. “What’s it doing in there?”
“Destroying the attic,” Joseph said. He scanned the waters for anything buoyant. Nothing beyond the barrels floating inside the barn. For Ellie to leap into the waters now would be her death sentence.
Trapped.
“Making sure we’ve nowhere to hide.” Esther cast nervous glances to Gavin who lay on his back at the peak of the roof, once again drifting out of consciousness. His ashen skin glistened in the rain, chest rising and falling ever so subtly. “Will he make it?” Esther asked. Joseph presumed she already knew the answer but needed assurance for her own sake. Needed hope. Instead of replying, he said, “Look for anything we can use to get off of here. There has to be something.”
Another snap from inside the house, this time followed by a drawn-out creaking. “That’s a support beam,” Joseph said. His heart raced. “It’s taking the house apart.”
Ellie slapped her hands down, face strained and eyes wide with defeat. Hopelessness. Panic. “Da, I have to go into the barn.”
“Ellie, don’t even—”
“Da.”
He stared at her as another strobe of lightning lit up the sky. Thunder rolled across the Wicklow hills.
“I have to. If I can get another barrel open, we poison it. We’ll have something to get out of here. There’s no other way.”
Esther, oblivious to the conversation, focused on her son. Her face drooped with sorrow as she cried. “I’m sorry I forgot about the barrels in the barn. If I’d remembered, if I hadn’t let fear cloud my mind, we’d have gotten out of here on the first day.”
“There’s no time for that,” Joseph said. “Ellie, I can’t let you go. I just can’t.”
“Well you don’t have a choice.”
He stammered for a response but the shake of her head left him defenseless.
“I know you’re scared of losing me. I know you did all you could to make my life better. I’m doing this to give you another chance, Da. If this works, we get to wake up tomorrow. If I don’t, because you’re scared of losing me? You’ll lose me anyway. We’ll drown as soon as this roof comes down. Even if I made it to another building, it’d find me. This has to happen.”
“I—”
“I love you, too.”
Ellie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and, as soon as thunder clapped, she leaped from the roof.
The bang in the sky masked her splash. Unlike last time, Joseph didn’t watch the waters for her to reemerge. He didn’t waste time as he tapped Esther’s shoulder. “We need to keep that thing distracted. Come on.”
“But Gavin is—”
“Gavin is dying and needs you to keep this fucking thing distracted.”
He stomped his feet, cracking shards of shingle that rolled down into the drink. He yelled, not words, just a primal sound that gushed from the pits of his fear. Esther began doing the same, weak slaps of her feet as she screamed her throat raw. More crashes from inside. Another crack, another snap and--
—Silence.
“No, no, no…”
Joseph raced for the jagged hole in the shingles, peered inside. The lightning still marred his vision, the inky interior barely visible. Dust tickled his nose and he sniffled, scanning the cubby for movement. A beam of timber lay broken, Ellie’s carvings visible on its face. It’d been shoved through to the second story. Holes peppered the spongy floor, more gaps than not. And through each, floodwater rippled. In the attic, nothing stirred. The Kelpie was on the move.
“Shit.”
Joseph shoved from the roof and skidded down to the gutter, searching the waters by the barn. In the blackened depths, something white slithered.
“Ellie!” He snapped a shingle free and flung it down, the splash hitting his legs.
Please let her hear that. Please.
Bubbles blew to the surface. Another flash of sheet lightning blared from overhead. Another crack of thunder.
She can do this. She can do it.
Seconds ticked by as fear constricted him as tightly as a boa.
And something at the back of the barn exploded topside. Joseph’s chest tightened as he strained his neck for a view, but the curtain of rain obscured his sight. “Ellie!” he yelled. “Can you hear me?”
She screamed, and Joseph’s feet almost left the roof. He caught sight of her, rounding the barn as she scrambled to the gutter, dragging something behind. A salt barrel.
“You did it!”
He snapped another shingle free, readying the projectile, but something told him the creature would be too wounded to give chase now. He hoped it was screaming silently in the inky depths, burning and cracking as the salt degraded its bones. He hoped it fizzled and popped and whittled. Until it became nothing but ash.
As Ellie backed up on the barn roof, she never turned to face Joseph. Something held her attention at the back of the building.
A quivering claw snagged the barn gutter.
“Ellie, jump now, swim to me.”
The teen clutched the barrel before her and turned. “I’m scared!”
“I know, honey but you have to do it!” His hands clapped together with each syllable. “Come on!”
Ellie screamed as she leaped, splashing into the flood. The wind whipped the surface into a frenzy as she kicked her legs, using the barrel for buoyancy. Behind her, the Kelpie’s grip loosened on the gutter, the skeletal claw disappearing. It’d sunk back beneath the poisoned water.
“Come on, Ellie!”
Joseph hunkered, hand outstretched as she kicked the water into a froth. A spinal cord broke the surface behind her, glistening as it weaved up and down like a snake, gaining.
“Come on,” Esther screamed.
The thing slipped down, the tail of its spine the last to go.
As Ellie neared the farmhouse, Joseph’s arm ached from stretching. He snatched her collar and whipped her onto the roof where Esther pulled her to her feet. Joseph grabbed the barrel and hugged it to his chest as frothy white water swirled inside. Saltwater.
The Kelpie burst from the flood, screaming its ear-splitting roar. As Joseph and the others backed up the roof to Gavin, it emerged. Quivering claws gripped the gutter as it pulled itself from the flood. It hunkered down, spine arching, ribcage coiling and uncoiling like the hands of some eager businessman. Those fangs had grown longer still, pushing up past the snout like thin, white toothpicks. But despite its intimidating form, Joseph noted the cracks in the bone, the brittleness of it all. The salt was working.
And the Kelpie shambled up the roof.
“Get Gavin up,” Joseph called to Esther, his grip tightening on the barrel. “Don’t let it touch you.”
The kelpie’s head cocked, from weakness or intrigue, Joseph couldn’t tell. It stalked toward him.
“Everyone get back.”
Filthy water dribbled from the creature’s skeleton as its arms came up, claws extending outward—reaching.
“Mine,” it said, and the sound exploded from everywhere and nowhere. “Give me what’s mine.”
“Fucking take it!”
He flung the saltwater.
The Kelpie screamed as the water exploded across its bones. An acidic hiss filled the air as it sizzled and burned, ribs opening and closing in different directions. Thick smoke burst from every point of impact, the rancid smell thick and instant. The Kelpie quivered as its bones snapped and popped. Rising in pitch, its scream crescendoed to something like a dog-whistle. Joseph gritted his teeth.
And then the Kelpie charged.
The burst of motion caused Ellie to scream. It scrambled with its sizzling arms outstretched as it continued to yell and burn and Joseph braced. He shoved the barrel forward. The impact threw him, and his spine whacked the hard roof. He gasped for air as he arched his back and the Kelpie smacked the tiles beside him and rolled. Smoke billowed from its body as it screamed, hit the gutter, bounced, and crashed into the flood.
The waters roiled.
Ellie rushed to Joseph’s side as he sat upright and gasped for air, his diaphragm refusing to cooperate. His throat locked as blind spots danced before his eyes.
“Relax, Da,” Ellie said, rubbing his back. “You need your muscles to relax, it’s okay. Just breathe.”
He did as she instructed, and, slowly, his windpipe opened. His vision cleared. “Where is it? Is it gone?”
“Look.”
He scrambled to his feet, woozy and dazed. His skull and face throbbed, his stomach cramping. And as another burst of lightning illuminated the farmland, something slithered beneath the waters, swimming towards the tree line.
“How?” Joseph said, his voice tight. “How is it still alive?”
Hopelessness gripped him hard and fast. He ran a palm over his blackened face as Esther took the barrel from him. His brain refused to believe the creature still moved. In the saltwater, it should surely waste away to nothing. Its bones cracked and sizzled, for god’s sake! How?
“Those aren’t the rules!” he screamed, as if it made a difference. “We killed you!”
“This is it, isn’t it?” Esther said in a monotone. She knelt beside her son, hugging the barrel as if for comfort. “This is how it ends for us. It won’t die.”
Like the past, Joseph thought sourly. Just keeps coming back up to get us again and again…
“Bullshit.” Ellie’s voice trembled as her hands worked into fists. “Fucking bullshit. I got three barrels open. Three! What, it just goes back out there, rests and returns? Rinse and repeat? It can’t…I cant…”
She fell against Joseph as sobs wracked her body. He stroked her hair, shushed her, as Esther did much the same for Gavin.
“Even if I get another barrel opened,” Ellie cried. “Another fifty open, it’ll just force itself through the flood until it’s too weak, then go back out to those fucking trees and wait until it’s recovered. Look. And I don’t even know if there’s any barrels left!”
As they watched, the Kelpie curled up the branches of its pine, bones coiling and curling like fingers. There, it fell still. Waiting, once more.
“What does it want?” Ellie cried. She sneezed as water dripped from her nose. No shelter now. The attic was destroyed.
It was over. Pneumonia, starvation, the Kelpie, whatever came first.
“I’m freezing, Da,” Ellie cried. “We’ve got no food. We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“No.”
There it was again, false hope, so easily given.
“How can you say that?”
“It’s just…just not going to happen, okay? Can’t.”
“You’re lying to me. Stop lying to me!”
As Joseph stammered, Gavin hissed and sat upright. His head fell forward as rain trickled from his ashen face. His sunken eyes found Ellie. “Go back to what you said.”
She wiped her face. “Huh?”
“You said, ‘what does it want?’ That’s what I’m asking you. Think. What does it want?”
Joseph shook his head, a slow sense of panic building in his core. “It wants us dead. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“But why?”
“Why? Because it’s a fucking killing machine, that’s why.”
Gavin took a breath. “In the story you read, Douglas’s book. The Kelpie demanded a sacrifice. If it didn’t get it, it sought vengeance. Esther…” His slurring words worried Joseph. He swallowed, licked at his cracked lips. “Esther, I was that sacrifice. You and Douglas gave me away. But then I came back. I caused this.”
Silence overcame them then, the lashing rain hissing as another crack of thunder boomed above the mountaintops.
“It caused the flood to punish you. If you had me back in your life, then you don’t get the farm.”
“It—it was just a story, Gavin. One of Douglas’s old fables.”
“The book was right about it hating saltwater, wasn’t it?”
“I…” Her words fell away. She looked to Joseph as if for assurance but found none.
“No. You can’t,” she said.
“I have to. We’re dead one way or another right? What’s the harm in trying. I’m fucking done either way.”
“Help might still arrive, Gavin, we’re only a few days into this mess and you’d never know, they might—”
“Just stop. Please. Jesus.” He shifted his position, letting loose another hiss. “You know that’s not true. The rains haven’t stopped for days. This is Katrina levels of disaster. And on an island of this size, resources are maxed out. You know that. Limerick, Dublin, Derry, there are much bigger places to concentrate on. There’s no one coming. And one more day out here, we’re done for. Either by that thing or our own bodies shutting down. One way or another.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I sacrifice myself. For you.”
“Stop.” Esther whipped her head around, as if the answer lay in the flood or the gray skies. Anything to help. “I can’t lose you. Please. You’re all I have.”
“You’ve just met me. This is all I wanted. For you to know I exist. I got that. I can save you.”
“Joseph, help me.”
Joseph squeezed Ellie, saying not a word.
“The longer we debate it, the more rest for that thing. Ellie’s right, It’ll be back, standing the saltwater for as long as it can, either getting us or completely demolishing the house. It won’t stop. And, trust me, if you’d have told me I’d be saying this just two weeks ago, I’d call the nearest psych ward myself. But we know what it is. We know what it wants. Saltwater worked, and that’s all the confirmation I need to try. Because we have to do something.”
Gavin was right. They had to try something. He could not allow his daughter to die out here. Going on nothing but a story had gotten them this far. It was worth a try. He cleared his throat. “Hard as it is to hear, Esther, Ellie risked her life for us out there. Let him do this.”
“How dare you,” she spat, frightened as a cornered animal. She held the barrel before her as if shielding herself from the words. “You saw your daughter grow up. You got that time. How dare you.”
“And I’d like to see her continue to grow,” Joseph said. “That’s all I care about. You can call me selfish. I don’t care. But you chose to give him away. You gave up that time with him for the farm.”
“You gave up that time with your daughter, too, you hypocrite.”
“Stop.” Gavin pushed to his feet, cradling his damaged hand. His skeletal face showed no emotion. “Just stop it. Arguing won’t get us anywhere. Esther, he’s right. Just doing what he needs to do for his daughter. Now let me do what I need to for you.”
“No.”
Esther shook her head. She approached Joseph, and for a moment, he braced. Then she nodded to the barrel and he took it, confused. She backing away from them, sunken eyes shimmering with terror as she wiped her ashen face. “I can’t let you do that.”
Was she really freeing up her hands for the box cutter?
“Well you don’t have a choice,” Gavin said.
“I do. I do have a choice.” She paused near the gutter, lip quivering. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t want you. I’m sorry I was selfish. I wanted a life with Douglas and I got that. But what was the price, really? I ruined your life. I wasn’t there for you. Do you know how many nights I dreamed of tucking my own son into bed at night? Wondering where he was? If he missed us? I can make this right now. I can.”
“Esther, stop, we’re—”
She waved a hand. “I’m giving you a chance at life. You deserve that. I should’ve been there for you. Protected you. Just…let me be a mother.”
And with that, Esther jumped.
“No!”
She hit the water as Gavin scrambled down the shingles. And something big and white erupted from the depths. Spindly arms snapped shut around her thrashing form and she screamed—a sound so high pitched it made Joseph’s teeth come together. With one hand holding the barrel, he clutched Ellie as she held on to him, letting out a low whine. He placed his hand on her head, shushing her.
The Kelpie’s bones snapped shut around Esther’s body, tearing into her wax jacket as the waters ran red. Her hand shot out, grabbed at the beast, and fused to bone. It hugged her like a spider, and all the while, her screaming never ceased. Then the creature slipped under, dragging its prey down, down, down, and all that remained were bubbles popping on the surface. Joseph stared in horror, as if expecting another blast from the beast, but all remained still. And soon, even the rain lessened. Not a lot, but more than before the reservoir collapsed. Less rain than Joseph had seen in days.
“It took her,” Gavin said, almost to himself. “Where the fuck did it even come from?”
Joseph looked to the trees over Ellie’s head. Empty. Each and every branch.
“I didn’t even notice it leave the trees.”
“Do you…do you think it worked?”
Joseph could only shake his head as Esther’s blood meandered along the current, mixing with salt and muck. One with the flood now.
“I have no idea.” He raised his head to the shower tapping his skin. “But the rain’s stopping.”
 
*****
 
“Feels like a dream,” Ellie said, holding her knees to her chest as she huddled by the chimney. The sun bled across the morning sky, peeking from behind the mountains, and the fresh heat felt alien on Joseph’s skin. Although drooping black clouds remained, the sun was a godsend, only hampered by still strong winds.
“I know what you mean,” he said, closing his eyes and allowing the light to kiss his skin. “It’s like I just woke from a nightmare.”
Although he hadn’t slept, the night passed with a new sense of ease. A pressure had lifted from the air. The sense of something watching vanished along with the night. A few times, his eyes threatened to flutter shut, but he’d pushed through—just in case.
“Hey, Gavin.” Joseph knelt by the man as he lay sprawled on the dirty roof, mouth agape. He placed a hand to his neck, felt a pulse. “Still alive, just out cold.”
“He needs food and shelter or he’s finished, Da.”
“I know. At least this time, we’re just up against the elements.”
Ellie smiled at that, the gesture sleepy but true. The sight of his daughter grinning gave Joseph hope for another day. Another chance to make things right. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “Your mother got the same grin when she had a plan.”
“That so?”
“That’s so. I’d say I didn’t want anything for my birthday, no party, no hassle, and she’d get that grin. I’d just learn to trust her. Because she was going to do it anyway. And, to be honest, it always worked out for the good. I should’ve listened sooner.”
“I love you,” Ellie said, and Joseph realized it was the first time she’d said those words unprovoked. A smile lifted his sore cheeks, one he never wanted to leave.
“I love you, too.”
With that, she shoved to her feet, shaking out her arms and legs. As she squinted, she placed a hand across her brow. “Haven’t had to block the sun in forever. Feels weird.”
“See anything?”
A beat passed. “Nothing. It’s gone. It’s really gone this time.”
Joseph wondered if the bones had dissolved, mingled with the water, or if the creature lay in a heap somewhere on the earth. Either one would do.
“You’re going to do this, aren’t you?” he asked.
He didn’t need to explain. Ellie was smarter than that. They both understood her idea, and Joseph knew not to hold her back now. He let out a long breath, easing the tension creeping through him. He trusted her.
“Yes. I am.”
Ellie made her way to the hole in the roof, where the jammed barrel waited. She worked her hands around the opening and yanked it free. All the while, Gavin never so much as stirred.
“You think he’ll make it?” she asked, making her way down to the gutter. On the brown waters, midges and flies buzzed in clumps, the smell from the flood strong now with the heat.
“If you can do this, I imagine he just might.”
“And do you think I can do this?” She studied the scummy surface, as thick as muck now.
“I think I should stop holding you back and trust you. Yeah. I think you can do this.”
She looked to him, her expression neutral. “Thank you,” she said, and sat on the gutter, one arm around the barrel. “It’s funny. I don’t feel it there anymore. Just water. Nothing to be afraid of.”
“I know what you mean.” Joseph worked his way down to her. He hugged her. Though both their arms shook, from a lack of food and used-up adrenaline, he didn’t want the embrace to end. Still, he forced himself to let go. “Go on. You can do this.”
He stood back and folded his arms as Ellie eased herself into the flood. She shoved from the roof and briefly went under, coming back up caked in gunk. “Absolutely vile,” she spat. “Jaysus.”
He laughed, and this time, felt no fear. The first genuine laugh in days. “You’ll do fine.”
She worked her hands over the blue plastic of the barrel, turning it open-side-down before pressing it to her chest. “Works,” she said. “It’ll keep me floating. I’ll send for help.”
“I know.”
“Right. Here goes nothing.”
As she kicked towards the mountains, toward the tree line where the Kelpie once sat, Joseph eased himself down on the roof. And felt immeasurable pride. She moved in a perfect V, cutting the waters with a grace he could never achieve. A grace the objects of legend never could. And soon, the sounds of her splashing vanished as she became nothing more than a dot. Then she was gone.
Beside him, Gavin took slow, ragged breaths, his cracked lips moving as he mumbled in his sleep. “She’ll do it,” he told the sleeping man. “We’ll be out of here before you know it. Don’t worry.”
And as the day stretched on, and Joseph slapped at midges and battled his urge to sleep, he felt not once ounce of fear.
By midday, helicopter blades thrummed in the distance.
And a smile spread across his aching face.