by exposed capillaries, glazed with a clear lacquer of lymph. She said, âWhen youâd been gone for nearly an hour we went to find you. We came around the bend and you were lying in the middle of the road. I rushed to rescue you. Sam was close behind me. She said âsomethingâs wrongâ and âstopâ and âit shouldnât smell like thisââbut I wasnât listening to her. When I fell over she tackled my ankle and pulled me out straight away. But it took us ages to get you out.â Lily glanced at him and must have seen scepticism. âI did think at first that Iâd fainted from low blood sugar,â she said. âBut it didnât feel like a faint. And there was a weird smell.â
âThereâs something stopping us leaving?â
âA kind of no-go zone. It makes you pass out. I did try twice to be sure. The second time I was crawling, so I just slumped.â
There were house lights here and there in the settlement and the streetlights had come on.
âWhere am I going?â Lily said, as one more corner brought them to the intersection of Bypass, Haven, Beach, and Peninsula roads. The Mercedes headlights showed them two bodies lying on the intersection, both with diluted blood puddled under them.
âI live along there,â Sam saidâand William had to tear his eyes away from the bodies to look where she was pointing.
âIsnât Peninsula Road a dead end?â Lily said.
âYou mean weâll be trapped?â William and Lily stared at each other, considering their options.
From the back seat, Sam said in a musing tone, âIt got dark.â
âDidnât you notice it getting dark?â Lily asked.
âIâm always home at this hour,â Sam said. âI never work the night shift. Iâm not licensed for it.â
âSam?â William said. âWe need directions.â
That brought her back to herself. âMy bach is number 37. Three from the end.â
ââBachâ is Kiwi for beach house. Thatâs what it says in my Lonely Planet ,â William said.
Lily turned onto Peninsula Road and drove slowly along it, peering out over the hood so sheâd see any bodies before they went under her front wheels.
âGuidebooks are so useful,â William went on, âthough they could have included a bit more on local epidemics of madness and murder.â
âI donât know how you two can make jokes,â Lily said. âPeople are dead, and itâs horrible.â
âWas I making jokes?â Sam asked.
âGrappa,â said Lily.
âGrappa,â Sam echoed, sounding more puzzled than chastened.
Their headlights turned the kowhai at the gate of number 37 into a beacon of yellow. William reached out and switched them off. He and Lily sat still, watching the dark house, but Sam jumped out and hurried through the gate. She fished a key out from under a pot plant and unlocked the ranchslider. She turned on the light and stood waiting for them.
Lily said, âYou know, despite being slow, that girl has plenty of practical savvy.â
âShe kept her head?â
âYes,â Lily said, then changed her mind. âExcept that, when things were at their scariest, she started talking about herself in the third person.â
âLike how?â said William.
âShe referred to herself as Sam.â
âShe does that.â
Lily swivelled in her seat to face him fully. âThe no-go zone was so strange that I kept shoving Samâs weirdness to the back of my mind. But, look, when she stopped seeing to the old people and came to wait with meâshe was a mess. Hiccupping from too much crying. Not at all the type to take charge.â
William shook his head.
âNo. Listen. We went to look for you and found you lying on the road. I rushed in and passed out. Sam pulled me out, but then sheâs all snotty and weepy and hopeless. She