Nick crept up to the glass and peered through. The hallway was dim and shadowy, but there seemed to be no sign of his wife anywhere.
Can I make it upstairs before she spots me? Maybe she’s gone to the kitchen. She may have seen James’s body and come to her senses.
Nick placed his hand on the door handle and began to turn it slowly. With every inch that the door opened, he paused and waited, seeing if Deana was hiding in the hallway.
He looked left.
He looked right.
It was all clear.
Where the hell did you go, Deana?
He pushed open the door and slid through the gap. The end of the hallway was illuminated by light coming from the kitchen, but the stairway and the upstairs hallway were shrouded in shadow. He placed a foot on the first step and paused, listening out for any warning signs. Then he took the second step. The third. The fourth.
He entered the hallway upstairs and all was still clear.
Darkness seemed to close around him like a blanket. The bedroom was just up ahead, the door hanging wide open. Nick picked up his pace and hurried towards it.
Out of habit, he went for the light switch as soon as he entered the room, but this time he stopped himself before pushing it.
Better to remain hidden in the dark.
He crept across the carpet and headed over to his bedside table where he knew he had left his wallet and keys. Sure enough, even in the dark, he found them. He picked them up and shoved them into his coat pocket.
That went easier than expected.
Nick turned around to leave.
Deana was right in front of him.
His wife was standing so close that he could smell her fetid saliva. Her hands immediately went for his throat, choking him with a strength he didn’t know she possessed. He tried to fight her off, to force her backwards as she tried to bite at his face, but she was unrelenting. Each snap of her jaws sent hot dribbles of bloody phlegm down his neck. His vision began to crackle with spots and stars as his oxygen supply was suddenly cut off. He twisted in the vice-like grip of her hands and lifted up his knee to create space between them. Just when he was sure he was about to lose consciousness, Nick threaded both of his arms between his wife’s elbows and forced them out and away from him. He succeeded in breaking Deana’s hold, but the sudden intake of desperate breath left him momentarily paralysed.
Deana was back on him before he even had chance to move. All Nick had time to do was deliver a swift kick that caught his wife just above the knees. She fell to the floor, snarling. He took his chance and made a run for it.
Heading down the corridor at full pelt, Nick could hear his crazed wife right behind him, chasing him down like a predator. He took the steps downwards, three at a time, half-running, half-tumbling. Deana gained on him as she leapt down the stairs behind him without any fear for her own safety.
She collided with him at the bottom, clinging to his shoulders like a piggybacking child. Nick felt her teeth clamp down and grab a hold of him. He anticipated the sharp burn of his skin being shorn away, but was relieved to find that Deana had only sunk her teeth into the thick woollen collar of his coat.
He barrelled into the wall, crushing Deana like the meat in a sandwich. Her jaws tore loose from his collar and he was suddenly free of her weight. He made for the porch again, so quickly that his foot struck the lip of the doorway and he went crashing to the stone floor.