Free Story | Zombie Horror | Monthly Free Stories

Part One of Three

When a trusted scout disappears along the safest road between two settlements, the woman who trained her follows the trail into an overgrown house where the dead have learned to wait.

Estimated total reading time: 75–100 minutes

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The Empty Place on the Board

The scout room had been built into the inner side of Millhaven’s east gate long before Mara Venn had learned to read a route by the colour of mud on a boot. By the time the first grey of morning reached the wired glass above the desk, the room already carried the heat of six bodies, damp coats, lamp oil, old timber and the bitter herbal drink Asha Noll brewed whenever she drew the final watch before dawn.

Mara stood beneath the route board with one hand resting on the edge of the scarred table, studying the row of wooden markers while the gate crew changed outside and the settlement woke behind her. Buckets struck the pump platform, a cart wheel complained over the yard stones, and someone called for more hands near the greenhouse before a woman answered with the sharp irritation of someone who had already been asked twice.

Those sounds usually settled Mara. Millhaven worked because people rose, checked what still held, repaired what had failed and carried the day forward before fear could invent new work for them. This morning, one narrow strip of ash wood kept pulling her eyes away from everything else.

TAMSIN REED had been burned into the marker in small, careful capitals. The left side of the board held scouts who were inside the walls. The right side held those beyond them, with each marker hanging beneath a route name and a return time written in chalk. Tamsin’s still sat under ALDER ROAD, beside yesterday’s date and the faded line Mara herself had written before sunrise. LOWBRIDGE. MEDICAL LOCKER. RETURN BEFORE DARK.

Behind Mara, Asha leaned against the radio shelf with both hands around a chipped mug, her dark hair tied high and badly enough that loose strands had escaped across one cheek. “North gate saw no one after the rain started,” she said, watching Mara read the board for what must have been the fifth time. “Cal checked west. I took east from midnight. If she came near the wall, somebody would have heard her whistle.”

Mara ran a thumb across the table’s split edge, feeling the old ridge in the wood. “Any lamp from Alder?”

“None.” Asha lowered the mug and glanced towards the narrow window beside the door, where the top of the eastern wall cut across the paling sky. “I sent the signal twice after three. Three long, two short. She knows it.”

“She knows every return signal we use,” Mara said, and the answer came out flatter than she intended as Asha’s eyes came back to her face. She had been the youngest of the six when Mara began training them, all elbows and questions then, already capable of climbing a drainpipe faster than anyone twice her size. At twenty, she had learned when to leave a silence alone. “That’s why I’m telling you I sent it,” she said, easing the mug onto the shelf. “You were about to ask again.”

Mara met her look, and when Asha lifted one eyebrow, she admitted, “I was thinking about asking again.”

“Same offence. Less evidence.” Asha pushed away from the shelf and crossed to the board, where she touched the lower corner of Tamsin’s marker with one finger. “She could have stayed at Lowbridge if the road turned bad after she arrived.”

“She could.” Mara looked towards the chalked return time. “She would have left a mark at the first junction coming home, or sent a runner if Lowbridge still had one to spare.”

Asha’s mouth tightened as she looked towards the board. “And if Lowbridge had already gone?”

Mara let the question sit between them as movement sounded in the passage outside. The traveller who had reached Millhaven yesterday had brought smoke on his clothes, mud to his knees and a story that changed each time exhaustion pulled him awake. Lowbridge’s south gate had stood open. He had seen infected in the lane near the mill, then more among the allotments. He had heard shouting farther inside and walked away before curiosity could turn into a reason for dying. The report had been thin, frightened and useful enough to matter. Millhaven’s infirmary had three people carrying deep cuts from the greenhouse collapse, one older man with a puncture wound already hot around the edges, and a cupboard whose last sealed course of broad-spectrum antibiotics had been opened before Tamsin left.

Mara had approved the mission with three years of safe travel along Alder Road behind the decision, and that fact had followed her through the night in several forms, each one trying to turn a decision into a confession. She refused to give it that shape.

The road had been checked six days earlier. The drainage ditch near the old school had been clear. The two known infected near the coach depot were still trapped behind a welded service gate. Lowbridge had traded along the route nine days ago. Tamsin had crossed it alone four times and travelled it with Mara often enough to know where loose stone collected after rain and where sound carried too far around the long bend past the alder grove.

Sending her had been a decision built from known facts, and Mara could respect those facts while accepting that something had changed beyond them.

The door opened on a scrape of swollen timber, and Kit Rowan entered sideways under the weight of two rolled blankets and a canvas pack. He had already tied his fair hair away from his face, and the collar of his old green jacket sat straight enough to suggest he had dressed with the same care he gave route notes. He set the blankets on the table, then looked at Tamsin’s marker before greeting anyone.

“I checked the south stores,” Kit said, loosening the pack straps with precise fingers. “Two days of food if we ration properly, four filled bottles, iodine, spare cord, chalk, route paint, wax paper, and the field glass with the clean lens. I also took the smaller bolt cutters because Jonah keeps insisting the large pair are balanced perfectly, which means he enjoys carrying them and resents anyone else trying.”

Asha picked up her mug again and watched him unpack. “Good morning to you too.”

Kit blinked, then looked faintly annoyed with himself. “Morning.” He shifted his attention to Mara. “I checked the road log as well. No reported change since Cal and I came back on Tuesday.”

“Any washed verge near the residential stretch?” Mara asked, moving to the open ledger on the table.

Kit came beside her, leaning close enough to point while keeping his sleeve clear of the lamp. “Here. Twenty metres of soft edge where the culvert overflowed, though the tarmac stayed sound. Tamsin knew about it. She signed the update.”

His finger stopped beside Tamsin’s neat initials just as a voice came from the doorway.

“If the pair of you stare at her handwriting hard enough, she may walk through the wall out of embarrassment.” Sera Holt entered carrying the red medical satchel across her chest, then used her heel to shove the door closed behind her. Her black hair had been braided tight down her back, and a smear of something pale marked one cuff where she had come straight from the infirmary. “Mr Dace’s wound has started draining. Lio wants the antibiotics back before tonight if there are any to bring. If Lowbridge’s locker is empty, we still need Tamsin and the report.”

Mara glanced at the satchel. “How much are you carrying?”

“Enough to stop someone leaking on the road, clean a bite site if we need time to think, splint one limb badly or two limbs creatively, and complain for the entire journey about people who pack knives beside bandages.” Sera set the satchel on the table and looked towards Kit’s carefully arranged supplies. “Which one of those belongs to you?”

Kit followed her gaze to the knife lying beside a roll of gauze. “That came from Jonah’s pack.”

Sera tapped one finger against the table beside the knife. “You moved it there.”

Kit kept his attention on the bottle cap in his hand. “I removed it from the gauze.”

“Then we agree your instincts are improving.” Sera pulled the knife away and slid it across the table towards an empty equipment tray. “Give it another year and I’ll trust you near scissors.”

Kit opened his mouth, reconsidered, then began checking the bottle caps instead. Asha watched him with open amusement until Sera caught her eye.

“Say it and I’ll put you on latrine wound care for a week,” Sera said, one hand resting on the medical satchel.

Asha lifted her mug in surrender. “I have gate duty. I fear no threat made indoors.”

Mara almost smiled despite the tightness behind her ribs. Tamsin would have added something dry from the shelves, probably aimed at Kit, and Jonah would have tried to improve it until everyone regretted giving him room. When the exchange ended, the place where Tamsin’s voice should have been seemed harder to ignore.

The humour faded from Sera’s face as she turned towards the board. “How overdue?”

“Since dark,” Mara said. “No signal. No gate sighting. No route marker returned.”

Sera’s jaw set as she closed one hand around the satchel strap. “Then we leave now.”

Mara closed the ledger and faced her. “We leave when I’ve assigned the wall cover and checked each pack. Running out because we’re worried only gives Tamsin more problems if she’s out there needing us.”

Sera held her gaze for a moment, impatience sharpening her face before she nodded. “Fine. I’ll check exposure kit and water.”

“Good.” Mara turned as footsteps sounded outside again. “And you can tell Jonah why his knife was living with sterile gauze.”

“That conversation may delay us until winter,” Sera said as she opened the satchel.

Jonah Rusk came through the door in time to hear his name, carrying a coil of rope over one shoulder and a compact hand radio tucked beneath his arm. He was taller than the doorframe seemed designed for and ducked from habit, even though he had cleared it years ago. “I’ve been inside for three seconds,” he said, looking between Sera and Mara. “If this is already disciplinary, I’d like the record to show a hostile work environment.”

Sera pointed towards the equipment tray. “Your knife.”

Jonah looked at the knife, then at Sera. “Ah.”

Sera folded her arms across the satchel. “It was in the medical roll.”

“Then it was extremely safe.” Jonah eased the rope onto the floor and gave Sera a hopeful smile. “Surrounded by professionals.”

Sera held his gaze long enough for the smile to fade, and Jonah reached for the knife. “I’ll move it.” He slid it into the sheath at his belt. “See? Growth.”

Asha made a quiet sound into her mug, and Jonah pointed at her. “Encouragement from peers. Essential for growth.”

Mara held out a hand for the radio before he could continue. “Signal?”

Jonah passed it across. “Clear to the lower Alder bend. Patchy beyond the school ruins, same as last week. I changed the contact spring and wound the reserve cell. We’ll get Millhaven if we climb for line of sight.” Something clicked inside his trouser pocket as he shifted his weight. “Also carrying two spare screws for the handset plate, one washer, and a brass screw that belongs to my sister’s music box and has apparently decided field work is the best way to avoid being fitted.”

Sera checked the clasp on her medical satchel and glanced towards Jonah. “It matters more when you repair the music box.”

Jonah’s expression softened. “She keeps asking whether I’ve fixed the song. I keep telling her the song is fine and the box is being difficult.”

Asha lifted her mug towards him. “Your sister is seven. She knows you’re lying.”

“She knows I’m charming. Different problem.” Jonah looked towards Tamsin’s marker, and whatever answer might have followed died before it reached him. He rubbed the brass screw through the fabric of his pocket, then faced Mara. “Who stays?”

Mara had already settled that during the hour before dawn, though saying it aloud made the shape of the search real. She moved to the smaller duty board beside the door. “Asha keeps east watch and receives any runner coming from Lowbridge or the quarry track. Cal covers western gate patrol until midday, then food distribution. He takes Asha’s route check after that. We leave the south line to Bren’s pair until we’re back.”

Asha lowered her mug. “I can swap with Cal and come. He knows east well enough.”

“You’re the strongest signal reader after Jonah,” Mara said, meeting her eyes. “If Tamsin found another way back, I want you on the wall when she calls. Cal knows west and the distribution teams are already short after the greenhouse roof came down.”

“I hate sensible answers before sunrise.” Asha looked towards Tamsin’s marker again, her fingers tightening around the mug.

“I can give you a foolish one if it helps,” Mara said.

Asha studied her over the rim of the mug. “Would it let me come?”

Mara shook her head. “No.”

“Then save your creativity.” Asha set the mug down and moved closer while Kit, Sera and Jonah worked through the packs behind them. She lowered her voice. “Bring her back, Mara.”

The request reached deeper than Mara wanted anyone in the room to see. She looked at Asha’s face, at the tiredness beneath her eyes and the stubborn hope she had managed to keep through the night, and chose the only promise she could make cleanly.

“I’ll find her trail,” Mara said, resting a hand against Asha’s upper arm. “After that, we deal with what we find.”

Asha’s eyes shone for a second before she looked away towards the window. “She’ll complain about the fuss.”

Mara gave the smallest nod. “Probably.”

Asha rubbed her thumb over the chipped rim of the mug. “She’ll say she was delayed by something obvious and we’ve wasted half the scout room looking dramatic.”

“Almost certainly.” Mara let her hand fall and turned back to the table. “And Jonah will claim he knew that all along.”

“I was planning to,” Jonah said from beside the rope coil, his tone lighter than his face. “Thank you for ruining it.”

Mara checked every pack herself, making sure the food sat high and dry, the water was balanced and Sera’s exposure cloths remained sealed in waxed paper. Kit carried the field glass and route paint, while Jonah took the radio, rope and tools. Mara kept the spare ammunition, map case and the short crowbar they used more often on swollen doors than on infected, while their firearms remained holstered.

A gunshot on an open road could pull trouble from farther away than any eye could search, and every scout learned early that noise spent carelessly returned with interest.

By the time Cal Mercer appeared from the yard, the sky beyond the gate had lightened enough to show the outer ditch and the first rows of allotments beyond it. Cal carried his watch spear across one shoulder, his broad face still marked by sleep, and stopped when he saw the four packs waiting near the door.

Cal looked towards Kit and rested one hand on the shaft of his spear. “You picked the slow team.”

Kit tightened the final buckle on his pack and glanced up. “I’m carrying the navigation kit.”

“That explains the speed.” Cal leaned the spear against the wall, then looked at Mara. “West stayed quiet. One infected against the lower wire around four. Old woman, blue coat, missing half the left hand. She moved on when I stopped giving her movement to follow.”

Mara nodded. “Mark it in the watch book. If she stays near the ditch, Bren’s pair can clear her after full light.”

Cal’s gaze went to Tamsin’s marker. “You think she reached Lowbridge?”

“I think she went far enough that turning back became harder than continuing.” Mara lifted her pack from the table and settled the straps across her shoulders. “We’ll know more when Kit finds her sign.”

Kit looked towards her, and the small shift in his posture told Mara he had heard the weight she placed on him. He reached for his own pack. “I’ll find it.”

“Find what’s there,” Mara said, tightening her chest strap. “Never what you want to be there.”

Kit gave a serious nod as he settled the navigation kit against his hip. “Understood.”

Sera slung the medical satchel across her body and checked the fastening twice. “If we find blood, I look first.”

“If we find a body, I look first,” Mara said, taking her gloves from the table. “If we find Tamsin standing, nobody runs to her until Sera clears the approach.”

Jonah’s face changed. “You think she could be infected?”

Mara pulled one glove on, then the other. “I think she has been outside the wall since yesterday morning. I’m leaving every answer available until we earn one.”

Jonah lowered his eyes to the radio while Sera tightened the strap across her chest and Kit lifted his pack from the table. Nobody pushed Mara for another answer.

Asha opened the inner gate door, letting cold morning air into the scout room with the smells of woodsmoke, wet soil and the sour green trace of the damaged greenhouse. Beyond her, the eastern yard was already busy. Millhaven had grown inside the shell of an old market town, keeping the brick walls that still stood, filling weaker gaps with buses, farm trailers and new timber palisades where roads had once opened freely through. Two teenagers carried salvaged glass panels towards the greenhouse while an older man pushed a barrow of split kindling past the well. Near the infirmary door, Lio Fen stood speaking with a woman whose forearm was wrapped from wrist to elbow, and his attention shifted towards Mara’s group as soon as he saw the packs.

“Any medicine comes straight to me,” Lio called, one hand resting on the infirmary doorframe. His voice carried the strain of a night spent measuring fever and pretending the numbers might improve through irritation. “Sealed courses first. Dressings second. If the locker has antiseptic, bring that too.”

Sera turned while still walking backwards towards the gate. “And if we find a crate of peaches?”

Lio looked at her for half a second. “I’ll trade you my good boot.”

Sera slowed near the gate and looked pointedly at his feet. “You only own one good boot.”

Lio lifted his chin towards Mara. “That is why the offer has value. Bring everyone home if the road gives you the choice.”

Mara held his gaze, then nodded and turned towards the outer gate before the words could become heavier than either of them needed.

Cal climbed the short stair to the wall walk while Asha took her place beside the signal bell, and the eastern gate crew began drawing back the crossbar. Timber scraped through iron brackets, chains shifted, and the two reinforced doors opened slowly onto the old road beyond Millhaven. Morning lay low over the fields, pale light touching the tops of wet hedges while the hollows remained grey, and farther east the broken line of Alder Road disappeared between trees that had grown wider every year since anyone had cared to cut them back.

Mara paused beneath the gate arch long enough to look at the three scouts beside her. Kit had already shifted his attention to the verge and drainage line beyond the ditch. Sera stood with one hand resting near the strap of her medical bag, eyes moving across all three of them as if checking for injuries before they had earned any. Jonah adjusted the rope on his shoulder, glanced up towards Asha on the wall, then gave her two fingers in farewell.

“Same order as the last Alder run,” Mara said, keeping her voice low enough that only the three of them heard. “Kit reads ahead. I take centre. Sera stays where she can reach anyone quickly. Jonah keeps rear and signal. We stop for anything that changed, even if it looks small. Especially if it looks small.”

Jonah glanced along the quiet stretch beyond the gate. “And if Tamsin steps out from behind that hedge and asks why we brought half the store cupboard?”

Mara watched the wet leaves tremble where the verge met the first ruined garden beyond the ditch. “You can explain the knife in the bandages.”

Sera glanced at Jonah with open satisfaction while Kit ducked his head, hiding a smile.

“That seems vindictive,” Jonah said, settling the radio strap across his chest.

“It’s efficient.” Mara stepped through the gate, and the others followed her across the ditch bridge onto the cracked tarmac beyond Millhaven.

The gate crew began hauling the doors inward behind them, timber scraping through the iron brackets as the opening steadily narrowed. Mara kept her attention ahead. Tamsin had left by this same route yesterday morning with the medicine bags empty, the route card sealed in wax and every reason to believe she would be home before the evening meal. Mara pictured her raising one hand towards the watch as she set out, already measuring what lay ahead instead of thinking about the wall behind her.

By the first bend, Millhaven had begun to disappear behind them. The palisade vanished behind the alder hedge, then the watch platform slipped from view above the trees, leaving only the upper corner of the east tower visible through the leaves before the curve carried that away as well. Mara kept the same measured pace Tamsin would have used, her boots landing on the strips of tarmac Kit had already judged sound while the country beyond the walls settled around them in damp greens, faded paint and the low rustle of growth pushing through places once built for traffic.

Alder Road had linked Millhaven to three villages and a ribbon of newer houses beyond the old bypass. Years of rain had broken its edges into gravel, roots had lifted broad humps through the surface, and bramble spilled across garden fences where people had once trimmed it back from the pavements. Even so, it remained one of Millhaven’s safest routes. The scouts had cleared sightlines at the worst bends, cut escape gaps through hedges, marked two upper windows as emergency observation points and painted small red strokes on walls where infected had become trapped inside buildings. Every hundred yards carried some decision made by people Mara knew.

Kit moved several paces ahead, his attention shifting between the verge, the tarmac and the openings between houses. His careful way of walking could look excessive until someone followed his line and realised he had already avoided loose glass, soft ground and a length of wire hidden beneath nettles. At the first abandoned cottage, he slowed beside a patch of mud near the old drive, crouched and touched two fingers to the edge of a shallow print before looking back towards Mara.

“Fox.” Kit pinched a little of the wet soil between his fingers. “Last night, maybe earlier if the ground stayed wet.”

Jonah peered over the hedge. “Glad we brought you.”

Kit rose and cleaned his fingers on a scrap of cloth from his pocket. “You say that now.”

“I say it most days.” Jonah gave him a sideways smile as they continued. “You only hear criticism because you collect it like route data.”

Sera stepped around a crack where willow roots had pushed through the tarmac. “He files compliments badly.”

Kit glanced towards her, caught the amusement in her face and returned his attention ahead. “Compliments are usually less useful.”

“That explains a great deal,” Sera said, stepping over the broken edge of a kerb.

Mara let the exchange run. The four of them had travelled together often enough for talk to find its own level, and forcing silence too early only gave worry more room than it deserved. Tamsin’s absence was already there in the way Kit lingered over each route mark, in Sera checking the clasp of her satchel and in Jonah’s hand returning to the radio every few minutes as though persistence alone might bring a signal through.

The moss-covered bus shelter appeared beyond a line of sycamores, its roof sagging at one corner and its old plastic panel furred green where rainwater gathered. Millhaven used it as the first formal checkpoint beyond the east gate. Someone had painted a white line on the rear wall years earlier, then renewed it so many times that the mark stood thick as plaster.

Kit stopped beside it and ran his fingers under the edge of the newest paint. “Clean.”

Mara checked the shelter floor, where wind had gathered leaves against the bench. No crushed growth, fresh scrape or chalk mark. “Tamsin would have passed before the rain.”

Sera stepped inside and studied the bench before turning her attention farther along the route. “Would she mark here if she already knew Lowbridge was gone?”

“Only if she changed the return plan,” Mara said after a moment. “She was expected to come back this way unless conditions forced her off it.”

Jonah leaned towards the old timetable still trapped behind cloudy plastic. “Seven fifteen to town,” he said, tracing the faded print with his eyes. “Imagine trusting a machine to arrive because paper said so.”

“You trust a radio held together by spare screws and irritation,” Sera said.

Jonah touched the handset against his chest. “That relationship has history.”

“Road first.” Kit had already moved beyond them and glanced back over one shoulder.

Sera stepped out of the shelter and fell in beside him. “That sounded almost commanding.”

“Mara said I read ahead,” Kit replied, adjusting the field glass strap across his chest.

“You can read ahead while sounding less like a council notice.” Sera stepped over a broken patch of tarmac.

Kit glanced at her, visibly searching for a reply that would survive inspection. “Would you prefer I phrase requests more casually?”

Sera stopped beside a patch of weeds and stared at him long enough for Jonah to cover his mouth, though the laugh still escaped. “That.” She pointed towards Kit with two fingers. “Exactly that.”

A little colour rose along Kit’s neck as he faced forward. “I’ll work on it.”

Mara passed them and tapped two fingers against Kit’s shoulder strap. “Work while moving.”

He fell back into place beside Sera as they continued along Alder Road, leaving the bus shelter behind among the trees. Farther on, a delivery van sat half split beneath a beech that had fallen through its cargo roof during some winter storm years earlier. Rust had eaten the lower doors into lace, while the pale trunk pressed through the metal shell and spread its branches across what had once been the pavement. Millhaven’s scouts used the van as a weather reference because its windscreen held rain long after the open road dried.

At the rear corner, Mara touched one knuckle to the glass. Moisture still clung along the lower edge.

“Rain ended around two,” Jonah said, checking the small dial beside the radio aerial. “Wind turned south-west before dawn.”

Kit crouched near the verge, studying a scuff where mud had dried across the tarmac. “One boot. Yesterday.”

Mara moved closer, careful to keep her own feet away from the mark. The print was faint, only the outer heel and part of the tread surviving beneath a wash of grit, yet she knew the pattern.

“Tamsin,” Mara said as she lowered herself beside Kit.

Kit traced the air above the mark with one finger. “Right heel. Her outer edge wears faster.”

Sera stood over them, one hand gripping the satchel strap. “Direction?”

“East.” Kit rose and looked farther along the road. “Outbound.”

Mara studied the partial print for another second before standing. It gave them little beyond confirmation that Tamsin had reached this point, yet seeing the mark turned yesterday morning from memory into something physical. Tamsin had set her heel here, passed the split van and carried on towards Lowbridge with an empty medical bag.

Jonah shifted beside Mara and looked at the road ahead. “She made good time if the rain washed everything after.”

“She always made good time when she travelled alone,” Mara said as she started forward again. “She hated anyone matching pace with her on flat ground.”

Jonah followed, adjusting the rope. “She hated me matching pace with her.”

Mara looked towards him. “You spent six miles telling her her knot work was joyless.”

Jonah touched one hand to his chest. “Her knot work was joyless.”

Sera shook her head as she walked. “Her knots held.”

“That was the problem,” Jonah said as he stepped around a tuft of grass growing through the road. “No personality.”

Kit glanced towards him. “You once tied a pack line that opened when a rabbit touched it.”

Jonah’s expression sharpened. “That rabbit had intent.”

Sera laughed, a quick warm sound that travelled farther along the road than Mara liked. Kit looked towards her before he seemed to remember himself, and the glance lasted just long enough for Jonah to notice.

Jonah started to reply, caught Mara’s raised eyebrow and thought better of it.

Sera saw him stop himself. “What?”

“Professional discipline.” Jonah adjusted the radio strap with exaggerated care.

“That would be new,” Sera said, looking ahead again.

Mara kept moving, though the humour eased something inside her for several paces. Tamsin belonged in exchanges like these. She would have cut Jonah down with six words and kept walking while he tried to build a defence, and for once the thought of her brought affection before worry.

Beyond the van, Alder Road narrowed where hedges had swallowed the pavement. They passed the low garden wall used as the second distance marker, its bricks dark with moss and one corner painted with three white squares that showed the remaining miles to Lowbridge. The road beyond rose gently towards the old coach depot, then curved through a shallow cutting where the banks pressed close enough to change the sound of footsteps.

As they neared the bend, Kit’s pace shortened. Mara saw the change in him before she saw its cause, his shoulders settling and his left hand lifting slightly away from his side as the others closed behind him.

“Movement ahead,” Kit said as he pointed towards the outer edge of the bend. “Near the overturned car.”

Mara stepped to his shoulder and looked through the leaves. A silver hatchback lay on its side across the old pavement, roof crushed against a concrete bollard. Beyond it, three figures moved in the narrow space between the vehicle and the bank.

The first wore the remains of a dark work coat, one sleeve hanging empty below the elbow. The second had become little more than a narrow frame inside a stained summer dress, grey hair caught across her face. The third stood partly hidden behind the car, head moving in slow, searching turns each time a bird shifted in the hedge.

Sera came up behind Mara and kept her voice low. “Same three from the last route report?”

“Two match,” Kit said as he lifted the field glass. “Coat and dress. Third is new.”

Jonah eased the radio against his chest to stop it knocking against a buckle. “Can we skirt them through the upper verge?”

Kit studied the bank. “Too tight near the culvert. We’d have to pass within arm’s reach of the car.”

Mara watched the three infected. Their movements carried the familiar drag of bodies whose joints had stiffened long after pain ceased to matter. The woman in the dress scraped one shoe along the tarmac, stopped, then turned towards the faint rustle of leaves where Kit had shifted, her mouth opening slightly.

Mara raised one hand, holding the others still as the woman angled her head towards them. For several seconds nothing moved between the banks until a crow landed on the roof of a house beyond the cutting, its claws clicking against slate. All three infected turned towards the sound, giving Mara the chance to signal the group back around the bend until the car disappeared from view again.

“Upper gardens?” Jonah asked quietly, one hand resting on the rope at his shoulder.

Mara turned to Kit. He shook his head and pointed through the hedge towards a narrow gate almost buried in ivy. “Fence line runs to the old bakery yard, then rejoins the road past the cutting. Gate may still open.”

“May?” Sera glanced towards the hedge.

Kit touched the bolt cutters hanging from his pack. “If it refuses, Jonah can complain at it.”

“I fix things,” Jonah said, mildly offended.

“You negotiate loudly with them until they surrender.” Sera adjusted her satchel.

“Either method works if we stay quiet.” Mara led them towards the gate.

Up close, rust had eaten deep into the hinges, though the chain around it had snapped years earlier. Jonah crouched beside the lower hinge and worked a thin pry bar between metal and stone while Kit held the ivy aside. Sera faced the road with her eyes fixed on the bend, leaving Mara to watch both approaches as the hinge gave a soft scrape.

Jonah froze with the bar still wedged in place, listening towards the cutting. Nothing appeared around the bend, so he shifted his grip and pressed again, slower this time, until the gate opened far enough for Kit to slide through sideways.

Once through, Kit turned to keep Sera’s pack strap clear of a hooked branch as she followed. “Mind the wire near your left ankle.”

Sera looked down, then back at him. “Thank you.”

Kit’s hand lingered near her elbow for half a second after she cleared the wire. “Of course.”

Jonah slipped through next and murmured as he passed Mara, “Council notice.”

Mara caught the back of his jacket before he could get any farther, and when Jonah glanced over his shoulder, the look she gave him was enough. He lifted both hands in surrender and moved on.

Beyond the gate, the route carried them through gardens that had once belonged to a row of small houses backing onto the cutting. Apple trees stood crowded with hard green fruit, bramble covered a collapsed shed, and washing-line poles leaned beneath bindweed. The four moved single file along the fence, keeping the hedge between themselves and the infected on the road.

Halfway through the second garden, a blackbird burst from the grass at Jonah’s feet, its wings thrashing through the leaves as it climbed. A low moan answered from beyond the hedge, followed by scraping shoes and one hard impact against the overturned car.

Mara signalled them forward, and Kit quickened his pace, guiding the group around a rusted barbecue and through a gap where two fence panels had collapsed together. Sera stayed close behind him, with Jonah next and Mara bringing up the rear long enough to hear the infected pushing along the road side of the hedge.

Ahead, a broken side gate opened onto their escape route. Kit reached it first, checked the lane beyond and waved Sera through as Jonah closed the distance behind her.

The hedge beside Jonah bowed inward as a grey hand tore through the leaves and caught the lower strap of his pack, jerking him sideways into the fence until the canvas snapped tight.

“Caught.” Jonah twisted towards the hedge and grabbed the strap with both hands as another pull dragged the pack hard against his shoulder. He braced himself against the fence, fighting for balance while the branches thrashed around the arm buried among the leaves.

The infected in the work coat forced its face farther through the hedge, dead skin catching and tearing against the thorns. One side of its jaw pressed through first, followed by the clouded eye above it, fixed somewhere near Jonah’s shoulder. Its remaining hand tightened around the strap as its mouth worked towards him through the branches, teeth snapping against twigs while Jonah fought to keep the hedge between them.

Mara reached him in two strides and caught the back of his harness. “Leave the pack.”

“Tools are in it,” Jonah said as he braced one boot against the fence post.

“Leave them,” Mara said as she drew her knife.

Kit turned back from the gate and seized Jonah’s shoulder strap above the buckle. “Clip here.”

Jonah reached for the release, but the infected hauled on the strap again before his fingers could find it. The sudden pull drove his shoulder harder against the fence, making the old timber crack beneath his weight.

Farther along the hedge, another section of leaves began to shake as a second body pressed into the branches from the road. A pale face appeared between the greenery, pushing slowly through the gaps while twigs bent and snapped around it.

Sera came back through the gate with the short hatchet already in her hand. “Move his shoulder.”

Kit dragged Jonah down and left while Mara pulled the trapped strap away from his neck, creating enough space for Sera to step in and drive the hatchet into the workman’s temple. The infected sagged deeper into the hedge, its fingers still locked around the canvas as its weight settled into the branches.

Movement appeared almost immediately at the far end of the hedge. The woman in the summer dress had followed the fence line towards the open gate and was already reaching for Sera when Kit called Mara’s name.

Mara turned as Sera stepped back and caught her boot on the broken edge of a paving slab. Kit seized her upper arm and hauled her clear, giving Mara room to move between them and drive her knife upward beneath the infected woman’s jaw. The body folded heavily against her shoulder before she forced it sideways into the grass and pulled the blade free.

Another infected pushed through the gate behind them. Jonah had his pack free and swung it hard into the figure’s chest, driving it back against the gatepost as Kit pulled the pry bar from his belt and struck across the side of its head. The blow knocked the infected off balance long enough for Mara to close the distance and finish it with the knife.

For several seconds, only their breathing and the shifting leaves disturbed the garden. The workman hung partly inside the hedge where he had sagged after Sera’s blow, branches moving around his weight, while somewhere behind the houses the blackbird began calling again.

Mara cleaned her blade on the workman’s coat and turned towards Jonah, who stood with the torn strap hanging from one hand, the colour drained from his face.

“Hands.” Sera caught Jonah’s wrist before he could object.

When he only looked at her, she tightened her grip. “Show me.”

Jonah opened his hands, and Sera checked his palms, fingers and wrists before pushing his sleeve higher. “Turn.”

He rotated his forearm for her while she examined the other side. “Nothing deep,” Sera said as she released him. “Hedge scratches only. Cloth held.”

“You still with us?” Mara asked.

Jonah glanced towards the infected tangled in the hedge, then back to Mara. For a moment he looked ready to answer with one of his usual remarks, though nothing came. He swallowed and gave a small nod. “I’m here.”

Lowering the pack from his shoulder, he examined the damaged strap as Kit crouched beside him and reached for the loose webbing. “I can tie that off.”

The strap passed into Kit’s hands while Sera looked towards the hedge and noticed the old scatter of animal bones half sunk into the soil near the fence. The infected had forced its way within inches of them while reaching for Jonah.

“They still ignore dead animals,” she said.

Kit kept working at the knot. “They went for Jonah instead. Movement still draws them.”

“Living movement,” Mara said, glancing towards the woman lying in the grass. “Same as always.”

Sera wiped the hatchet clean against the wet leaves. “Good. I could live happily with one rule staying boring today.”

“Then let’s keep moving before another one decides to prove you wrong,” Mara said.

Kit finished the repair and handed the pack back. “Strap will hold.”

Jonah settled it against his shoulder and tested the weight. “Thanks.”

Kit hesitated as though expecting the usual reply, then rose when none came. Sera noticed the silence too and gave Jonah room to adjust the pack before they headed back towards the gate.

Once they cleared the cutting, Alder Road opened around them again as the banks fell away and the houses stood farther back behind overgrown gardens. Morning had strengthened while they were among the hedges, clearing much of the grey from the tarmac and bringing the next bends into sharper view.

---

---

Kit returned to the lead several paces ahead, with Mara watching the verges behind him for another sign of Tamsin. The faint heel mark they had already found remained their best indication that she had passed this way, and the search for whatever came next carried them steadily towards Lowbridge.

Away from Millhaven, the route showed more clearly how much of it the country had reclaimed. Grass filled the central seam in long green stitches, hedges leaned over faded garden walls, and every few hundred yards a house stood behind the hedges with windows gone pale beneath dirt or black where curtains still hung inside. Mara knew which roofs had fallen since spring, which drives held abandoned cars and which gates would open if a scout needed to get clear. She carried those details almost without thought until something failed to match them.

Near the old primary school, Kit raised one hand and slowed so gradually that Mara noticed the change in his movement before she saw the broken fencing ahead.

She eased her pace behind him while Sera and Jonah closed the distance. The tarmac dipped through a shallow hollow where the verge widened beside a line of council fencing. During the last route check, the fence had leaned towards the field. Now three panels lay flattened towards the road, their steel posts bent from the soil and the mesh pressed into the weeds as if a heavy crowd had climbed across from the field side.

Kit crouched near the nearest post and touched the torn earth with two fingers. His usual care had returned after the garden encounter, though some tension remained around his mouth.

“More than one,” he said, following a series of crushed stems into the field. “A lot more.”

“People?” Jonah asked from several feet back.

Kit shook his head as he moved along the verge. “Look at the drag marks.”

Once he pointed them out, Mara saw narrow trenches through the soft soil, heel scrapes crossing one another and broad patches where vegetation had been trampled flat. Other lines showed where feet had caught in the mesh and dragged free. Some tracks crossed onto the tarmac, while others followed its edge before harder ground swallowed them.

Sera lowered herself beside a dark smear on one of the fence wires and studied it from several inches away. “Old enough to have dried before the rain finished.” Her attention moved across the field, where waist-high weeds rolled towards a row of industrial units. “How many do you think crossed?”

Kit rose slowly. “Enough that counting from here would be theatre.”

Jonah glanced at him. “You usually enjoy numbers.”

“I enjoy numbers when they mean something.” Kit stepped onto the road and looked east, then west, reading the flattened verge on both sides. “This was movement across the road instead of along it. They came from the south field, crossed here and carried on north.”

Mara moved closer to the broken fence. “A horde.”

Sera pushed herself upright, wiping damp soil from one knee. “The same one from Lowbridge?”

“Could be.” Mara looked towards the north, where fields ran behind the houses towards the old river corridor. “The traveller said Lowbridge was open on the south side. If the group kept moving west after the breach, this line fits.”

Jonah studied the crushed fencing. “How long between the breach and Tamsin coming back?”

“Hours,” Mara said. “Maybe less, depending how long she stayed inside Lowbridge.”

Kit’s face tightened as he looked east along Alder Road. “She could have walked straight into the tail.”

Mara crossed the road instead of answering, heading for the opposite verge where the ground had been scuffed almost bare. Tamsin would have seen the same evidence if she arrived after the main body moved through. If she reached this section while they were crossing, she would have needed distance, cover and another route around them. Alder Road offered all three only in fragments.

“Spread five paces,” Mara said, lowering her pack from one shoulder long enough to reach the chalk pouch at her belt. “Kit takes the south edge. Jonah, north. Sera stays near me. We look for her mark before we decide anything about where she went.”

Jonah moved towards the opposite verge, his voice quieter than it had been earlier. “How far?”

“Until the petrol station,” Mara said as she retied the pouch. “If there’s no sign, we come back and widen.”

Sera glanced towards the flattened fence. “And if there is?”

Mara looked at the road ahead. “Then Tamsin tells us what happened.”

They moved slowly through the next quarter mile, searching a road they had crossed often enough to know where old stains ended and fresh disturbance began. Kit checked posts, walls and broken kerbs. Jonah examined the shaded side of sign poles where chalk would survive rain. Mara watched for the smaller things Tamsin favoured: an angled stone, a snapped stem placed across a gutter, a strip of coloured cloth tucked where a scout would see it and everyone else would walk past.

Sera stayed close enough to monitor the others while keeping her eyes on the ground. “She hated the yellow tags,” she said as they passed an old drive where weeds had grown through the gravel. “Said they looked like someone decorating the end of the world for a village fête.”

Mara kept her gaze on the hedge roots. “She hated anything visible from more than ten feet.”

Sera nudged a stone aside with the toe of her boot. “She told Lio his new clinic flags were an invitation to thieves.”

“Were they?” Mara glanced towards her.

Sera gave a small lift of one shoulder. “Two disappeared in a week.”

“Tamsin stole them,” Jonah called from the far verge.

“You have evidence?” Sera asked.

Jonah checked the shadowed side of a signpost before answering. “I have experience.”

Mara caught the faint shift in Jonah’s face as he spoke, the joke coming more easily now, though his smile faded sooner than it would have before the hedge.

“She returned one,” Mara said, stepping over a fallen branch. “The other became a rain cover for the east signal box.”

“Evidence.” Jonah pointed towards her.

Sera’s mouth twitched. “Theft with community benefit.”

“Exactly.” Jonah turned back towards the verge.

Kit stopped ahead of them and raised one arm slowly, ending the conversation as cleanly as a shut door. He had reached a low brick wall where a terraced garden opened onto the pavement through a missing gate. Ivy covered most of the mortar, and near the base, beneath a lip of broken concrete, a white scratch showed against the red brick.

Mara crossed to him as Kit crouched and brushed away two wet leaves, revealing a shallow mark scratched into the surface with the edge of stone or metal. Two short lines met at an angle, with a smaller stroke beneath them.

“Route obstruction,” Sera said behind Mara.

Kit nodded. “Seen. Assessed. Continuing.”

Mara touched the wall beside the sign, tracing the rain-softened edge of the groove with one finger. Enough of the cut remained clean and sharp to suggest it had been made sometime yesterday. “Tamsin.”

Jonah came closer and studied the road beyond. “So she reached the crossing after the horde?”

“Or while the last of it was moving through,” Mara said. “This mark tells us she saw the road blocked and stayed in control long enough to record it.”

Kit looked at the garden opening beside the wall. “She carried on east after making this.”

Mara followed his line. The pavement beyond the wall had been pressed flat near the kerb by many feet, while the garden itself showed little disturbance. Tamsin had marked the danger and continued, which meant she still believed Alder Road could be used for some distance.

“That’s good.” Sera rested one hand on her satchel, and when Mara glanced towards her, she added, “It means she was still working the problem.”

“Yes.” Mara gave her a small nod. “It does.”

They continued towards the next bend, searching the verges as the remains of a petrol station came into view beneath a canopy sagging over four stripped pumps. The forecourt had cracked into islands of buddleia, thistle and young birch, while two rectangular pits left by the removal of the fuel tanks had filled with rainwater and rubbish. The shop windows had been smashed long before Millhaven began using Alder Road, and scavengers had taken almost everything portable except warped shelving and a faded advertisement board showing a family smiling over sandwiches.

Kit slowed at the forecourt entrance and pointed to a patch of silt where rainwater had drained from beneath the canopy. “Human prints.”

Mara came alongside him and looked down. Several boot marks crossed the damp surface, their tread patterns still sharp enough to separate one from another. One print carried a missing block near the heel, while another came from a boot broader than any worn by their group.

Jonah reached for the radio strap. “Recent?”

Kit leaned closer, careful to keep his shadow off the ground. “After the heavy rain started. Before the surface dried this morning.”

Sera’s eyes moved towards the dark shop interior. “Tamsin?”

“No.” Kit pointed at the nearest print. “Wrong tread. Wrong size.”

Mara surveyed the station. A plastic crate lay overturned near the shop entrance, and fresh scrape marks showed where somebody had dragged metal from under the canopy. A length of copper pipe protruded from the edge of the forecourt near Jonah, freshly cut and bright at the end.

“Scavengers,” Jonah said, studying the pipe. “Two, maybe three.”

“Unaffiliated?” Sera asked as she shifted farther from the shop windows.

“Likely.” Mara looked towards the road behind them, then east. “Millhaven crews mark salvage claims. Lowbridge did too.”

Kit followed the prints across the forecourt, tracing their path towards the rear of the station. “They came from the west verge, crossed here, then headed south behind the shop.”

“Same direction as Tamsin?” Jonah asked, looking towards the overgrown service lane.

Kit shook his head. “We have no sign she came onto the forecourt.”

Sera’s hand moved closer to the hatchet. “Could they have seen her?”

“Possible,” Mara said. “We keep it separate until we find something that joins the trails.”

Jonah glanced towards the empty shop. “You want me to call Millhaven?”

Mara looked at the radio, then towards the low ground surrounding the station. “Not from here. We won’t gain much range, and finding Tamsin comes first. Record the time and location. We’ll report the other group when we climb.”

Jonah took the notebook from his chest pocket and braced it against the back of the radio. “Three sets?”

“Two clear.” Kit studied the prints again. “A third may be overlap.”

“That answer has made my life richer.” Jonah looked at him over the pencil.

Kit rose from the tracks. “Write two confirmed, possible third.”

Jonah added the note before returning the notebook to his pocket. “There. The future archivists can fight over it.”

“If future archivists exist, I hope they have better hobbies.” Sera glanced towards the smiling family on the faded sandwich board.

Mara headed for the eastern edge of the station. “They’ll complain about our handwriting.”

“That means Jonah’s records will become sacred mysteries,” Sera said, falling in beside her.

“Finally, appropriate respect.” Jonah tucked the pencil away and followed.

Kit had gone ahead by several yards when Mara saw him stop near the ditch and drop into a quick crouch. A small silver square lay caught beneath a dock leaf, one edge pressed into the mud. He picked it up by a corner and held it towards her, turning the foil until the blue print beneath the dirt became clear enough to read.

MEDICAL SEAL.

Sera stepped closer, recognised it and reached for the waxed pouch at her belt. “That came from Lowbridge stock.”

Mara examined the torn edge. Lowbridge sealed its clinic packs with printed foil folded over the latch and stamped with the warden’s mark, while Millhaven used plain wax tape.

“Tamsin dropped it,” Mara said.

Kit turned the square over, exposing a faint diagonal scratch across the back.

“Deliberate,” Jonah said as he leaned closer.

Mara nodded. Scouts were trained to leave something unique to the mission when chalk failed, provided it held no value the settlement could ill afford to lose. Tamsin had chosen the clinic seal because anyone following her would know exactly where it came from.

Sera slipped the foil into the waxed pouch. “So she reached Lowbridge.”

“She did,” Mara said, watching her seal it away. “And the medicine was taken out of the locker and packed for the return journey.”

That gave them more than another mark on the route. Tamsin had reached the clinic, completed the hardest part of the assignment and started back towards Millhaven before something forced her away from Alder Road.

Jonah looked back towards the petrol station. “If those scavengers found her carrying antibiotics…”

“They went south,” Kit said. His voice sharpened slightly. “Her sign is east.”

Jonah held up one hand. “I heard you.”

Mara looked between them. “We follow Tamsin. Scavengers stay a separate hazard.”

Kit nodded, though the set of his jaw told Mara he had taken Jonah’s suggestion personally on Tamsin’s behalf.

They left the station and entered the residential stretch where Alder Road narrowed between high hedges and detached houses set deeper behind gardens. This was the section Mara liked least even in good weather. Sightlines vanished behind brick walls, parked vehicles and vegetation. Every drive created an opening, and every hedge could hide a body until it moved.

The signs of the horde grew clearer as a garden fence came into view collapsed towards the road, its boards snapped from inside the property. A wheelie bin lay crushed beneath footprints in dried mud. Farther on, an infected sprawled face-down across a driveway with the back of its skull split open, old blood washed thin along the concrete.

Sera crouched several feet from the body and studied the wound from where she was. “Recent head wound.”

Mara examined the damage more closely. “Could Tamsin have done it?”

“Possibly.” Sera shifted slightly for a better angle. “Blunt edge. One clean strike would do it.”

“Another mark.” Kit beckoned from the wooden gatepost, where a fresh cut showed against the weathered grain.

Three strokes formed the sign, a short vertical line crossed by a slash, followed by an arrow angled away from Alder Road towards the gardens.

“Blocked route. Forced diversion,” Kit said, tracing the shape in the air.

Jonah moved closer to the gate and peered through the opening. “She went in there.”

“Because the road was gone,” Sera said from beside the body.

Mara looked back along the street and followed the signs of the horde through the damage it had left. Footprints covered the verge and drive entrances, mud streaked the broken lower frame of a conservatory across the road, and tracks wandered away from the tarmac into several gardens. Tamsin’s mark showed where her own route had broken from Alder Road. On the return from Lowbridge, carrying the medicine back towards Millhaven, she had reached this stretch with infected moving through the road and the properties around her.

“She was being squeezed,” Mara said.

“Forward road blocked?” Kit asked, studying the churned verge ahead.

“Likely.” Mara pointed towards the overlapping tracks. “Too much movement ahead to risk pushing through.”

Kit glanced back along the road. “Retreat too?”

“If the tail kept coming from Lowbridge, turning back would put her into more of them.” Mara indicated the crushed bin and the tracks stretching behind them.

“So she took the gardens.” Jonah leaned towards the opening in the gate.

“They gave her walls, cover and a chance to reach the rear lane,” Mara said.

Sera rose and joined them. “She chose the best bad option.”

Mara kept her attention on the garden, and Sera watched her for a moment before adding, “You were already judging the choice.”

“I was reconstructing,” Mara said.

“You were doing both.” Sera rested one hand on her satchel strap.

Mara looked through the broken gate again. “She knew this section. She knew the rear lane reconnects near Alder Row.”

“Then trust the choice she made long enough to follow it,” Sera said.

Mara gave Sera a small nod before pointing through the opening. “Kit first.”

They entered in single file, and the garden opened into a long, narrow strip bordered by high hedges and a brick wall at the rear. Nettles reached Mara’s thighs, a rusted swing frame leaned beside collapsed decking, and the remains of a greenhouse sat beneath ivy near the fence.

Kit picked out Tamsin’s passage almost immediately from the stems pressed apart along the hedge, several of them broken inward towards the house. “She stayed close to the edge. Less visible from the road.”

“Rear lane is that way.” Jonah followed the disturbed growth with his eyes.

Kit looked towards the back wall, then farther along the trail. “She changed direction halfway.”

Mara saw the turn near an apple tree, where Tamsin’s path left the hedge and cut towards a gap in the side fence. A smear of mud marked the lower rail where she had climbed through.

Kit eased the broken panel aside and slipped into the neighbouring garden first, where the trail became harder to miss. Plants lay flattened near the lawn, and a shoe print had bitten deep into the wet ground beside a stone birdbath.

“Running,” Kit said, crouching to examine the edge of the print.

Sera came closer. “From what?”

Mara looked back towards the fence and found another set of tracks entering through a broken section several yards behind Tamsin’s line. Wide drag marks crossed the wet lawn, less distinct than the scout’s prints, though clear enough for Jonah to notice them too.

“One followed her.” Jonah’s hand moved towards the tool at his belt.

Mara studied the width of the marks before straightening. “Maybe more.”

Kit took up Tamsin’s trail again, leading them through two more gardens where each crossing left another piece of her route behind. A clothesline had snapped where she had ducked too late, mud streaked a low wall, and a small smear of blood marked the top of a fence panel, too little to tell them whose skin had opened there.

The fourth garden brought them to a brick boundary wall almost eight feet high. Jonah followed its length with his eyes before looking back towards Mara.

“That ends the rear route,” he said.

Kit pointed towards the right, where the wall joined a hedge dense enough to hide any opening. “There used to be a gate.”

Mara remembered the route from surveys years earlier. A gate had once opened onto the service lane behind the houses, though the hedge had since swallowed most of it and a fallen tree from the neighbouring garden had driven branches through what remained of the gap.

Sera stopped beside her to study the blocked exit. “So she reached this point with infected behind her.”

“And more on the road beyond those houses,” Jonah said.

Kit turned towards the nearest building, drawing Mara’s attention across twenty yards of overgrown lawn to a two-storey house of pale render streaked dark by years of water. Ivy had climbed past the lower windows and spread beneath the eaves, several roof tiles were missing, and one end of the gutter hung loose above a rear kitchen door sitting crooked beneath a shallow porch. Roots had lifted the paving around the step.

“She went through the house,” Mara said.

Kit searched the ground leading towards it. “Yes.”

“A house was better than staying outside,” Sera said, her mouth tightening.

“From here, it was.” Mara glanced back towards the broken fence where Tamsin’s pursuer had entered.

Jonah eyed the dark kitchen window. “I hate when sensible answers keep doing that.”

They approached in a loose line, following the marks Kit picked out through the lawn. Mud beneath the grass preserved Tamsin’s passage almost to the porch, where a heel print showed near the step and a separate scrape crossed the doorframe where something hard had struck the wood.

Mara stopped several feet away and studied the building. A grey curtain hung behind an upstairs window, ivy had furred the edges of a lower pane broken inward, and moss covered the porch roof. Nothing moved behind the glass.

“Any route mark?” Sera asked quietly beside her.

Kit searched the porch posts and the area around the door. “None outside.”

“If she got through and kept moving, we should find another exit,” Jonah said, looking towards the upper windows.

Mara checked the far side of the property, where a high hedge enclosed the garden and the neighbouring fence had collapsed beneath bramble. There might still be another way through, though Tamsin’s visible trail ended at the kitchen step.

“Kit, check to the threshold,” Mara said, pointing towards the porch. “No entry.”

He nodded and moved forward, placing each foot where Tamsin had already disturbed the ground. Before he reached the door, three soft taps came from somewhere inside the house and stopped him in mid-step.

Jonah raised his head towards the wall while Sera’s hand closed around her satchel strap. Mara stayed still and listened through the faint movement of leaves around the garden until three more taps travelled through timber or pipe from deeper inside, evenly spaced and unmistakably deliberate.

Mara crossed the lawn and stopped beside Kit at the porch step. The sound had been faint enough to disappear beneath the wind, though the spacing formed a signal every scout in Millhaven knew.

“That’s ours,” Jonah whispered as he came up behind them.

“Alive signal,” Kit said, keeping his eyes on the door.

Sera reached Mara’s other side, the colour gone from her face. “She’s in there.”

Mara reached for the crowbar on her pack. Tamsin had entered the house after Alder Road failed her, and somewhere beyond the crooked kitchen door she was still able to answer them.