The woman made no movement; her eyes were shut. He turned away, back the way he had come. He opened the first door he came to: bathroom. He was too hasty and the door bumped against the wall. Empty. He pressed another switch, and light flooded the hall, this time a much brighter white. Then a noise, something scraping the floor on the other side of a closed door. Danny stopped still. It was involuntary, like he was frozen to the spot. He had to force movement. His hand reached out to push the door open and reveal a block of darkness. A woman appeared from it, her eyes narrowed against the light, her arms out like she was reaching for him. She was wearing jeans and a light-coloured jumper, and her foot dragged like she might trip.

They locked eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail: just like her picture. Her mouth contorted, parting her lips like she was going to speak. Danny lifted and fired as one. The sound was like a violent hiss delivered right to his ear and louder than he had expected, to bounce around the hall. He had shut his eyes. When he opened them again the woman was gone.

Danny moved forward. A door-shaped block of light framed the woman on the floor. She was leaning back onto the foot of a bed, her left arm pushing out at the mattress like she was struggling to get back up. She groaned like she was clawing for breath. There was blood. A clump on the bed that showed up against the white, he couldn’t see where it was coming from. Her top had soaked so much and so quickly it was like her whole front was erupting. Danny lifted the pistol to squint down it. The iron sights on the top of the barrel met with the centre of her mass and he pulled the trigger for the second time. He was ready for the sound but it still filled the room around him. The hiss threatened to unbalance him as he jerked away from it.

He took a moment to remember the way out. The front door had fallen back shut, his clammy hand slid off the smooth metal of the handle in his haste and he had to focus to get it open. The soles of his shoes squeaked as he turned sharply on the tiles of the communal hall and made for the stairs. He passed the same front doors to hear the same sounds as on the way in, the same by-products of normal human life. He felt numb to it now, like he wasn’t part of it.

He didn’t look back.

Chapter 16

Saturday

The sun was barely up, its rays so timid they hadn’t made a start on the heavy frost that coated the grass. It coated the grave too, giving the black headstone a white dusting on its top and shoulders. Richard Maddox sat facing it, still enough that he could be made out of stone himself. He only moved when a stranger’s voice punctured the scene.