A bucket and a couple of squashed plastic bottles lay in a front garden. I picked them up and put them in the bag. Going into any of the buildings felt really scary. Why did they all have broken windows? And why were their doors all open? I didn’t like the idea of being stuck in any of them. They all felt too closed in, like the idea of all those walls encircling you suddenly made them feel too small, like they would crush you. I could feel that tight feeling in my throat coming back again at the thought of going inside.

I looked along the street. There was nothing moving at either end, but there were loads of places where things could be hiding, where killers could be waiting. The ground beneath me seemed to give a wobble, as though the pavement was shifting and settling on the ocean waves. I stamped my feet and looked down, but it was still solid, and I was still on dry land.

James came running out of a red door. He threw an armful of bottles into the bag. ‘You OK, Martha?’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t want to go in,’ I whispered. ‘I don’t think I can.’

‘Why? What’s the problem?’

He peered at me, and I could feel tears starting to come.

‘Come on,’ he said, grabbing my hand. ‘You can freak out later. There’s no time now. There’s definitely nothing hiding in this house. But there are more bottles, and you can help me get them. We’ve got to save the others!’

Lana came running out, wearing a red leather jacket, and clutching an armful of bottles. She threw them into the bag, before turning and running back inside again.

‘Come on,’ said James. ‘Let’s do this.’

He pulled me through the front gate and in the door. Inside, the floor was softer, with an old, sodden carpet underfoot, and light shone in from windows at the back. I didn’t feel trapped, but it didn’t feel pleasant either. There were long scratches on the walls, and I wondered what had caused them. Maybe just cracks in the plaster? Or maybe something heavy had been dragged through the house. Maybe that’s all it was. And not the claws of kriks.

‘It reminds me of the dead people,’ I said. ‘It’s all too empty. Where did everybody go?’

‘Under the sea. Now stop mooning and hold out your hands,’ he called, coming in from a room at the back. ‘Put these in the bag.’ He thrust some plastic boxes in my hand, and sped back again to gather more.

Back on the street the first bag was full and another two had appeared. Dr Jones came running out of a building halfway up the street.

‘They’re coming back,’ shouted Stinky. ‘Hurry up!’

Dr Jones sprinted into another house, while others ran out of theirs.