Nick shot to his feet and leapt for the light switch. “Oh my God! James! James! No! I’m sorry. No! Help me! Somebody help!”
He flicked on the lights, flooding the kitchen with an artificial glow that stopped just short of the darkness outside the windows. He dropped back down to his knees and placed his hands either side of James’s face. Blood pooled on the tiles and his son’s staring eyes were glazed and puffy. He felt for a pulse, but there was none.
His son was not breathing.
He can’t be dead. No!
Nick slunk backwards on the tiles, his mind skewing at the edges and threatening to shatter into a thousand frantic pieces.
God help me, what have I done? I’ve killed my own son. I’ve killed my own son.
No, no, no. He’s not dead. He can’t be. I just…I just need to get help. That’s all.
Nick leapt up off the floor, so panicked that he almost took flight. For a brief moment his mind was blank, numb with panic, but then he got moving, sprinting into the hallway and leaping up the stairs. He could use the phone beside the bed and wake up Deana at the same time. She could go check on James while he spoke to the emergency services.
And tell them what I’ve done.
He burst into the bedroom, shouting at the top of his lungs for his wife to wake up. Her body shifted beneath the sheets, but she didn’t respond. Nick cursed under his breath and grabbed for the phone. He dialled 999 and waited.
And waited.
In his ear: Emergency Services are currently dealing with a very high number of calls. Please leave your name, address, and situation, and help will arrive with you shortly. Please remain calm while waiting for assistance. Leave your details after the beep.
Beep!
Nick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 999 were too busy to answer his call?
What is going on?
He turned to Deana and knelt on the bed, shoving her hard with both hands. “Deana, wake up! I need your help. Something terrible has happened.”
She began to stir.
Finally! She’ll know what to do.
With a low moan, Deana rolled out of bed and placed both feet on the carpet with a soft thump. Then she began to straighten up.
Nick switched on the bedside lamp and started redialling 999. He looked up at his wife as he did so. “Deana! James is hurt. He was in the kitchen and I…I…”
Deana’s glaring eyes were wide; the lower lids hanging slack while bloodshot orbs rattled around their sockets. A slick trail of blood covered her chin and trickles of fluid sweated from her nipples beneath her nightshirt.
Nick’s jaw dropped open as he tried to understand what he was seeing. But, before he had chance to think, Deana leapt across the bed at him. He dodged sideways, just in time, and stumbled against the end of the bed. He almost fell down, but managed to remain on his feet.
“Deana, what are you doing?” he shouted.
She clambered over the bed towards him, leaving bloody handprints on the Egyptian sheets and snarling at him like a wolf.
Nick edged backwards against the wall. Deana glared at him balefully, her jaws grinding back and forth like saw blades. Then she let out a high-pitched screech and pounced.
Nick put his arms out to defend himself and managed to shove Deana off-balance as she landed. She stumbled sideways and tripped, colliding with the mahogany chest of drawers that her mother had bought them both as a wedding gift. The one he’d always hated.