Free Last Days by Adam Nevill Page B

CALL
    button. ‘Come on,’ he whispered to Dan.
    They checked the ground-floor flat. Nothing. Then went upstairs to the first floor and stood in the doorway of each of the four empty rooms. The camera spotlight revealed a stark emptiness. Nothing again.
    The only nook they couldn’t see from the main hall that ran the length of the flat was the en-suite bathroom in the master bedroom. ‘Some crack-head weasel might be in there,’
    Dan said, his voice tense beside Kyle. They stood together and looked at the doorway to the bathroom, until Kyle became tired of his own anxiety and, in a sudden burst of unexamined confidence, walked across the master bedroom and peered into the bathroom.
    Porcelain, wood, chrome: empty.
    They went and checked the penthouse: empty. Made their way back to the first floor. Kyle shook his head once the search was complete. ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Old place. Must be shifting on its foundations.’
    ‘Could be. No one in here but us.’
    Dan peered at him from around the viewfinder. They exchanged glances and after a moment of realizing they were both frowning sternly at each other, they burst into laughter.
    And Kyle was reminded again, after so many years of being friends, just how much he enjoyed the sound of Dan’s wheezy chuckle.
    ‘I need a piss. I’m going in there. Shift,’ Dan said. ‘But let’s get this wrapped up quick when I’m done syphoning off this wheat beer,’ he said over his shoulder as he urinated.
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    LAST DAYS
    Kyle nodded. ‘No problem. Let’s redo the nursery segment.
    Then do a piece in night mode up in Sister Katherine’s penthouse. Get some shots of the place in night mode on our way back up. We can do audio over them later and cut them into Susan’s piece.’
    Dan nodded, zipped up, reclaimed the camera and headed for the stairs. He paused at the bottom and turned his head to Kyle. ‘You don’t think someone got in and hid?’
    ‘No chance. Come on, big man, shift your arse.’
    ‘For one year, Sister Katherine spent most of her time in these four rooms. Glimpsed infrequently, she would venture out dripping with jewellery, and clad in the designer clothes she became so fond of, to shop on Bond Street, or to visit the exclusive clubs of Mayfair and Knightsbridge and Chelsea, from which a few photos of her still exist. Palatial accom-modation compared to the rest of the building, where the adepts slept crammed against each other, the cries of the infants in the basement nursery perhaps rising up to disturb sleep already hampered by snoring and a total lack of priv -
    acy. This separation had a powerful impact upon the minds of her followers. It was the clearest indication of Sister Katherine’s authority over them, and her elevation to the status of absolute spiritual leader. Which would become all too evident at the next two locations where she exiled her loyal, but dwindling band of adepts. Ending in what one writer called—’
    ‘Dude! We have definitely got company. Shit!’
    Kyle jumped, caught his breath. He stared at the side of Dan’s head; his temples were wired with white hair. Dan’s getting old, he thought, stupidly.
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    ADAM NEVILL
    And the sound was repeated; a pattern of footsteps outside the street-facing room on the penthouse floor. What appeared to be unsteady steps; the sounds suggested the feet were dry and bare, scuffing at the wooden floorboards in the central corridor. But the entire second storey had been devoid of life besides the two of them; they had even checked again to put Dan’s mind at rest.
    ‘What is it?’ Dan’s face was stiff with fright. He quickly removed his beloved Canon XHA from the tripod.
    Kyle hurriedly untaped the tie mics from inside his shirt.
    ‘How the fuck do I know?’
    Dan slowly lowered the camera to the floor, untangled himself. ‘This is not funny. Just not funny. I’m going to—’ A door, somewhere outside the room, was slammed with such force he never finished the sentence.
    Kyle finished