Milly managed to stand up straight. If she could just break the paralysis she could make a bolt for it. Not much of a chance, but better than waiting for the end. Help me, God. But not only could she not feel His presence, for the first time in her life, she felt uncertain of His very existence: she felt a terrible aloneness as the creatures closed in.

Too late, anyway; when she turned to look for the nearest fire she saw they’d surrounded her. Crouching, and now inching inwards.

The closest one was almost on her now. At the end of its muzzle, gnashing relentlessly like machine parts, were those teeth –

Milly Emmanuel tried to find her God. Milly Emmanuel tried to pray.

And then there was a shot, and fire and smoke exploded in the creature’s eyeless face. With that awful drilling howl it reared up, flailing, and fell back. Another shot: another creature was hit, flames erupting from its side, and behind it stood Noel, pumping his shotgun to chamber another round.

“Milly,” he shouted. She ran towards him, weaving sideways to keep out of his line of fire. He pulled the trigger again: another red signal flare screamed past her, towing a banner of smoke, and another monster shrieked. Noel let the shotgun drop, hanging on its sling. He crouched; when he stood up there was another Molotov cocktail in his hands. As Milly reached him, he flung it overarm at the creatures, then turned and fled with her, reloading the shotgun as he went.

The meadow was almost completely dark by now. Scattered, fading fires marked the use of other petrol bombs. One large bonfire was still burning, the furthest back. Shotguns fired. Another petrol bomb exploded. They were holding, but how long for? Always outnumbered, always outgunned.

One of the creatures rushed at them, cannoning into Noel and knocking him down. Milly screamed – for him, for her, for all of them – but the shotgun fired and the thing reared back and fell away, screeching and burning. Noel racked the slide and blasted it in the head, then caught Milly’s arm and they ran.

A shotgun boomed – two flares, one after the other – as they staggered into the last fire’s glow. Laura Caddick handed her weapon to Tara, who passed her another gun and began reloading the first; strapped to Tara’s back, Jess’ baby howled and screamed, his little red face screwed up. Woman, behold thy daughter; behold thy mother. There was a cut on Laura’s forehead, leaking blood, and she looked a little paler than normal as she shouldered the gun, but otherwise she was unharmed. Ernie Stasiolek fired into the advancing creatures, calmly and methodically, until his gun was empty, then reloaded.

Milly slumped to her knees on the churned ground, and finally managed to wheeze “Thanks.”

“Mention it,” said Laura through her teeth.