"I can't move." Matt groaned. "I don't think I can make it – you go on without me."

  "Not a chance Dad." Kira snapped back. "We started this together and we'll finish it the same way. Now get on your feet and bring your plate into the kitchen!"

  Matt despaired as his daughter led Lara back inside, contemplating the herculean effort it would take to get up after far too much barbequed pigeon. Who knew that the scourge of town centre pedestrians across the country would taste so goddamned good! Their tasks finished for the day, both families had congregated in the Brands' garden for what had turned out to be a revelation of "breakdown of society" protein discovery.

  Taking care to keep eyes on the sky at all times, in case of visiting giganticised red kites, the group had borne witness as Alan outdid himself in preparing the meat perfectly, taking advantage of the array of spices and sauces that had been gathered from empty properties. What had been advertised as pigeon burgers, were in fact slabs of rich, tender breast meat, between what might be the last bread they enjoyed for a while. Despite gorging themselves, there was so much left that the group was getting Christmas turkey vibes. Even Oswald looked slightly more plushy around the tummy.

  As if the world sensed the precise method of motivation to get the required results, a far off shriek reached across the sky, eerily familiar to anyone listening in the area - the sound of a circling kite. With a grimace, Matt lurched to his feet and ran inside, not taking any chances with one of the enormous hunters. Before the weirdness kites had been scavengers, carrion eaters swooping down into gardens for scraps and occasionally a sun-bathing cat. Along with their newfound size, the one encounter the group had experienced pointed toward a marked shift in their hunting pattern – and likely their appetite.

  One more thing Matt thought to himself as he joined the others in the kitchen, where the girls were being unenthusiastically introduced to a large pile of washing up. Experimentation had revealed that one of Matt's heat patches would result – when applied to the inside of a bucket of water – in very acceptably warm water for washing, laundry and personal hygiene. As he joined them, the group got down to planning their next steps.

  Their plans had two major priorities – finding survivors to grow the community in the road, and dealing with the nest of rats. As the others had turned the Tappers' back garden into another vegetable patch, Matt had drained all traces of energy from within, creating another set of patches for a second welcome pack. A set of water, heat, light and cold patches would setup a family well for survival basics - and the accumulated seed packs from the garden centre raid would keep them supplied for at least another dozen house gardens.

  Early tomorrow morning, Alan, Matt and Arlee would make their way to the first couple of earmarked addresses, to see if the families of Kira's and Lara's school friends were still there, and if they had an interest in relocating. Carry would take the girls next door – with the cats for protection – to what should be an empty property, so hopefully not one which had attracted any rodent attention. Carry had been holding a spare key for the owners, who were away somewhere on the South coast while trying to sell the property. Ideally, it was furnished, but they would check what else would be required for it to serve as a viable home.

  Bidding the Brands farewell, the Tappers headed back over the road with Lara, flanked by Nala and Oli. The female feline was almost always around Kira, though the males seemed to rotate their child-minding duty with no particular order or regularity. By extension and likely sensing the vulnerability Lara exuded, she had found herself included in this protective circle. Far from the fear Matt and Arlee had worried she would feel around the large animals after her traumatic experience, she was profoundly thankful and displayed great affection to whichever waist-high beast was pacing alongside her.

  Rather than spend time reorganising Kira's small bedroom to fit twice the normal occupants, the girls took turns on a squeaky foot pump to inflate a giant camping mattress. This was regularly used for sleepovers anyway and both would be comfortable camping out in the playroom, although Oli appeared deeply disappointed when he – and more pointedly his claws – were barred from the air mattress with emphatic arm-waving and improvised hissing from Kira. He slunk away to sit by the living room window, eyes surveying the road as darkness fell.

  Prior to the electrical failure that followed the weirdness, it was difficult to imagine what true darkness was. There had always been streetlights, headlights from passing traffic, the glow in the sky from nearby towns. Now, as the last tinge of daylight faded in the West, and clouds obscured much of the sky, true blackness was only held back by a couple of strategically placed candles, and the original light patch which Matt detached from his hoodie and passed to the girls on a plate for night time emergencies. Matt and Arlee gave the girls a goodnight hug, and headed upstairs, falling into bed and swiftly to sleep.

  The morning was bright, remnants of clouds being herded away by a strong Spring breeze which gently waved the treetops. Matt and Arlee woke from an undisturbed nights' sleep to – inevitably – the sound of hushed giggling outside their door. The surprise wasn't totally complete as it burst open and suddenly Kira was airborne, landing heavily on top of Matt, eliciting a great "ooof!" as he moved to protect his sensitive bits. Then came the expected squirming as Kira enthusiastically used elbows and knees to burrow between her parents and into a morning snuggle.

  Smiling in early morning resignation at the unfairness of his lot in life, Matt raised his head and saw Lara standing by the door, looking in nervously. Arlee noticed and held her arms out to the girl, who gave a very welcome smile and much more carefully climbed onto the king-sized bed and accepted a cuddle.

  The two adults shared a satisfied smile, overjoyed that Lara seemed to be acclimatising well. They put this down to Kira's relentless efforts at comfort, distraction and engagement, introducing Lara to the magical new house amenities, playing with the cats and talking through the various merits of Youtubers they were unlikely to ever watch again. Oswald was proving to be a valuable addition as well, spending his time waddling around, snuggling next to Lara while they read, or occasionally venturing outside and flitting around the garden. "I must keep my wings limber and strong!" He would say if asked. Anyone looking out of the window would see him perched on various sheds and fence posts just as much as soaring through the air, obviously keeping a close watch on the surrounding area, determined to protect his 'mistress' from further harm.

  "What's for breakfast?" Kira's muffled voice asked from deep in the thick duvet covering the bed.

  Matt and Arlee looked at each other, grinning as they said "Pigeon!" in tandem, erupting into laughter at the groans that sounded from both girls. This devolved into giggles as Matt observed the next stage of the morning ritual and deployed the Tickling Fingers of Doom, making Kira squeal as her ribs were assaulted mercilessly. This dose of normality was a welcome distraction from the day ahead, as Arlee would be venturing out with Alan and Matt once more, this time to try to find survivors. Their excursions so far had amply demonstrated the danger they now faced when leaving the safety of their houses. It was a feeling they were wholly unprepared for, conditioned as they were by the safety net of modern society.

  They would need to learn their lessons fast.

  After a good breakfast of cereal and the last of the long-life milk, the group prepared themselves for the day's activities. Matt and Arlee ensured they were wearing the clothes with armour patches attached. Matt had procured himself a new curtain pole, sharpening the end to a wicked point. In deference to their recent experiences, Arlee had taken one of the poles as well, though keeping it as a quarterstaff, visibly squeamish at the thought of plunging a spear into a living being – even a monstrous one. She of course carried her bag with a supply of food and water in case they were gone longer than expected, although they hoped it would not be needed. Matt had a backpack with his firetubes in side slings, an oven mitt tucked into a handy pocket.

  Bidding farewell to Carry and the girls after dropping them and the cats over the road, Alan joined them as they set out on their latest side quest. Their first stop was to the family at the end of the road, whom they had rescued from an invading rat several days ago. They had seen little of the family in the intervening period, but they seemed to be coping well enough. Lower floor windows were boarded over, and they greeted the trio happily and repeated their thanks for the previous rescue. At first disbelieving, they were bowled over as Matt presented them with a set of patches, taking a few minutes to demonstrate their effects and advise on placement around the property. Moved to tears at the impact this would make to their lives, the father Scott seemed intent on detaching Matt's hand from his arm, so gratefully did he shake it.

  Eventually managing to separate themselves from the family, they headed off down the road. The girls' friend Sarah lived with her family about fifteen minutes walk away, taking a circuitous route to avoid cutting through the park and the proximity to the forbidding entrance to the rat nest. None of them were looking forward to the day when necessity would force them to approach the gaping black hole in the ground, and they took roads to give the open space a wide birth, wary of even the slight chance of daylight activity.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Cutting through a gap between houses, they came to the top of a slight hill, leading down toward one of the local schools and further to the main road out of the village. They had travelled the route hundreds of times, walking Kira to and from school, but never before had they seen an enormous… what they assumed was a cow; towering over the parked cars in the road as it contentedly chewed on the garden plants. They stood, dumbfounded as the beast – at least eight feet tall at the shoulder – slowly wandered along the road, decimating flower beds, low tree branches and carefully sculpted hedgerows that previously would have been one of the local residents' pride and joy.

  "Can you imagine the rack of ribs you would get out of one of those things?" Alan said in hushed tones, thinking first with his stomach despite the feast of barbequed pigeon he had enjoyed the evening before.

  "Too bad it's a male." Arlee noted. "A source of fresh milk would be fantastic."

  Matt thought for a moment. "More than likely, it has come from that dairy farm just down the A4 toward Charvil." The huge barns with rows of feeding stations were clearly visible from the road which he had travelled for years to get to and from work. "Once we've dealt with more important stuff, we could investigate and see what is left of the herd. Maybe the farming families are still about as well."

  They watched the huge beast as it chewed its way along the road, pausing once in a while to leave a steaming pile of poo behind it. Smiling ruefully, Alan muttering under his breath longingly about "honey glazed ribs", they turned down a side road which lead toward their first target. The bovine encounter aside, it felt like a normal walk through the village – apart from the total lack of background noise, and the normality lulled them into unwise complacency as they took the final turning.

  Their ease was shattered at the sight of the road, windows smashed and doors splintered. Two semi-detached houses on one side were smoking ruins, gutted by a blaze that had collapsed the roof in as it consumed both properties. More concerning were the obvious claw marks scarring several fence posts, shattered panels between them a testament to the power of whatever beast had rampaged through the road. Crouching down behind a dented old van, they peered around it, keeping a nervous eye out.

  After a few minutes, with no sign of any movement, the group slowly started moving down the road. The property they were aiming for was about a dozen houses down, and they carefully picked their way through front yards. After passing the first few houses, Alan jerkily signalled the others to crouch down, gesturing them toward him. As they approached, he wordlessly pointed down into the soft earth, where a pawprint was clearly visible in a flower bed. He stepped forward and pushed his boot-clad foot into the centre of the print, not touching the edges at all with his size twelves.

  "Looks like some kind of dog paw, and I do not want to meet whatever made it." He said, head on a swivel as he scanned the surrounding properties. "How much further to the girl's place?"

  Arlee's face was pale as she looked between Alan and the enormous print. Gulping, she found her voice. "Should be another eight houses, number twenty-three." She was unnerved by the sign of imminent danger, fingers white as they grasped the makeshift quarterstaff tightly.

  What else is out there that we haven’t seen yet? She thought.

  Both the men felt the same way, somehow the evidence without sight of the beast itself being just as fear-inducing as the first-hand encounters with the massively overgrown spiders and kite. Looking around nervously, Alan realised first that they couldn't just hunker down and hide, urging the group to follow him as he pushed his way between some bushes into the next front garden.

  Their trepidation grew with each house they passed, broken doors and windows occasionally smeared with blood, dark and crusted. The reminder of the rat invasion was prominent in Matt's mind, sweat beading on his forehead as he held his homemade spear to his front, turning to cover his sides and keep watch behind Arlee as she crouch-walked behind him.

  Passing a thick, thorny bush Alan paused, reaching out to pluck a thick tuft of matted orange fur from one of the branches. Looking at it in confusion, the bright colour not familiar at all, he turned and held it up to the others, a questioning look on his face. They both shook their heads, nerves fraying as yet another mystery added to the growing tension. Dropping it to the ground, Alan turned back to continue, but failed to notice a thin wire strung along the garden boundary. Focused as he was on the surrounding road and houses, he was helpless to avoid tripping and crashing through the bush-line into the next garden.

  Although lacking the cartoon narrative necessity of landing on a pile of cymbals and whoopee cushions, the absence of normal background noise made the snapping branches and rustling leaves sound loudly along the road. Alan got himself untangled and sprang to his feet, Matt and Arlee pushing through to join him. For a moment, time stood still as they froze, straining their senses to the limit, praying they hadn't disturbed anything.

  Their prayers were not answered.

  From a few houses down the road, a deep rumble started; almost engine-like as the deep bass sound reverberated around them. The sound continued, growing louder as they heard a large form pushing through plants, thumping footfalls clearly growing closer. The trio were locked in place, fear freezing their blood as a deep shadow passed behind a line of small fur trees, brief glimpses of bright orange fur, before a monstrous form rounded the end of the treeline and into their view.

  While none of them knew the name, they had all seen the bright, immensely bushy fur of the chow chow dog breed before, a few local families owning and walking them in the village. The aptly named 'lion dogs' resembled cuddly toys with their thick manes and fur coats, but there was nothing comforting about the immensely swollen specimen watching them now with wild eyes and bared teeth. The fur was horribly matted, twisted into clumps and spattered with blood, some crusted and dark, and bright red drips in other places, particularly around its muzzle. The beast had killed recently.

  An intense stare from eyes level with their own was accompanied by the deep, bass rumbling growl, bloody fangs visible as black lips curled back. The normal heavy build was swollen to exaggerated proportions, the thick chest rippling with heavy bands of pectoral muscle, the legs like orange gnarled pillars, above feet with clawed pads spreading wide on the ground. A once bushy tail curled up behind the beast, matted and clumped like the rest of its fur, twitching wildly.

  It took a long look, the rumbling growl erupting into a single bark like a truck horn. It took a single heavy step forward, eyes focused on them, tongue lolling and drool dripping thickly.

  Very quietly, Alan spoke, not taking his eyes off the beast. "Arl, behind us, get ready to run. Matt, next to me. Press the end of your spear into the ground and set it. If it charges, line it up with the chest. We're going full Braveheart on this thing."

  The beast took another step forward, close enough now that they could smell the awful breath as it panted between barks. Matt stepped up beside his friend, heart pounding as he pressed the butt end of his makeshift spear into the ground with his foot. Behind them, Arlee was breathing heavily, whispering a prayer with a trembling voice.

  The tense stand-off held for a few seconds, then without warning the beast reared and charged forward, a wall of orange fur and muscle. Already prepared, Alan and Matt only had to make small adjustments as the sharpened tips of their weapons plunged into the vast chest. Matt's spear bowed and snapped, sending him stumbling backwards, hands stinging. Alan's staff sank deep into the ground, but maybe due to whatever power had been imbued within it, stayed straight and strong, stopping the huge beast dead in its tracks, the snapping jaws held at bay just out of reach of Alan's arms and head. His hands clamped onto the shaking shaft with all his strength, desperate to keep it planted and prevent the teeth from getting within reach. The slavering, stubby jaws snapped again and again, only inches from his flesh, the foul odour of its breath mixed with the coppery tang of blood, washing over him in great gusts.

  Arlee screamed, the sound snapping Matt's brain back into focus and he reached round to the side of his backpack, feeling the shiny metal tube but unable to get a grip to free it from the side pocket.

  Arlee reached forward and ripped the tube from the pocket, thrusting it into Matt’s grasp with trembling hands. He ripped the oven mitt out of this pocket and dragged it on. Grabbing the wobbling tube, he turned back to face the struggle, as Alan heroically held his staff in place, jerking his head back and forth to avoid the jaws lunging over the quivering shaft, the butt end gradually being forced deeper into the ground.

  Bringing the tube to bear, Matt stepped to the side and jammed his fingers into the tube and onto the back of the patch. Time seemed to slow for him as the violent, lashing tongue of flame exploded out of the tube to catch the beast across the top of the back. Quickly correcting his aim, Matt adjusted the line of the tube downwards and to the side, over the next few seconds covering the side and hindquarters of the struggling animal in a blaze brighter than the matted orange fur had ever been.

  The huge canine let out an anguished howl, as the thick fur caught light and flame quickly spread across its back and forward into its mane. It spasmed, the sudden movement finally dislodging Alan's spearpoint and throwing it and him sideways to the ground, where he sprawled helplessly. The beast howled continuously, maddened with pain as the flame took hold all over its body, the thick fur providing ample fuel. Spinning in circles, jaws snapping instinctively at the inescapable agony as it pirouetted uncontrollably, the howls giving way to strange, barking yelps.

  In an attempt to escape this relentless assault, it sprang forward slamming blindly into a parked car with an audible crack. Hind legs clawing, dragging its huge bulk over the roof of the now mangled vehicle, it fell forward into the road, leaving an awful streak of bubbling blood across the crumpled metal roof.

  The high yelps faded into an agonised whimpering, flames still ripping across its form as fur burned away to reveal a thick layer of fat. A horrible bubbling fizz could be heard as the fat ignited, the final moments of torment before the great beast gave a final shuddering heave, then lay still.

  The trio collapsed to the ground, nerves fried and faces twisted at the gruesome sight and smell. The new reality continued to reveal awful threats from unexpected sources. They all wondered what they would find at Sarah’s house.