Page 134 of Corpse Roads

Steering the glossy, black beast through the wind with ease, we follow the GPS location that Theo’s transmitted to the built-in computer. It’s a coastal location, deserted on a quiet hillside.

“There’s nothing here,” Leighton says, frustrated. “The town is miles back. I can’t see anyone on the beach.”

Dropping down a little, we scan the cliff more closely. Still nothing. They could be speeding down the motorway by now, leaving us to embark on a wild goose chase.

“Let’s go down,” Enzo decides. “We need to search on foot. There’s nothing to see up here.”

As we touch down on a quiet stretch of the beach, we leap out onto the wet sand. Devon is touristy in the summer, but in the dead of winter, there’s nothing but wind and crashing waves.

“Where do we begin?” Leighton asks anxiously.

“You can stay here.” I cut him a hateful look. “I don’t need your fucking feelings getting in the way of finding Harlow.”

“That isn’t fair. Let me help.”

“You aren’t trained for active operations.”

“I care about her too, asshole!”

Enzo grabs Leighton and pushes him forward. “You’re coming. Call this lesson number one. Make a mess, and it’s your responsibility to clear it up.”

Storming past them, I jog towards the pavement winding through the clusters of locked-up houses. We haven’t got time for this bullshit. Cold sweat drips down my spine as we go door to door, checking for signs of life.

The GPS was a rough estimate. They could be anywhere in this quiet borough. Brooklyn calls in to say they’re combing the housing estate for abandoned properties a mile or so further on.

“There’s nothing here!” I yell at them.

Enzo taps the comms in his ear. “Theo, we’re getting nowhere. Can you give us any more information?”

Nodding, he spins on the spot, scanning our surroundings again. I battle to keep my nerve. Fear and panic aren’t emotions I’ve handled in a very long time. Not since I lost my hearing.

My phone blares, and I almost drop it in my haste to answer.

“Yeah?”

“Hunter!” Brooklyn screeches down the line. “There’s an abandoned lighthouse on the cliff. Hudson and Jude are running up, but we heard gunshots.”

Sprinting away, the other two battle to keep up as we return to the beach. It’s huge, stretching out towards the next town. Craggy cliffs box in the ocean, with dangerous waves battering the rocks.

Crack.

Up the steep cliff, a decrepit lighthouse looks ready to collapse into ruin. I can just make out specks of people at the very top. If Jude and Hudson are running, it’s going to take a while to summit that cliff.

“We need to take the helicopter!” Enzo shouts.

Something’s happening. There are several more gunshots, and my heart leaps into my mouth as someone stops at the cliff’s edge.

“Oh my God,” Leighton exclaims.

All I can see is flowing, brown hair and a white, bloodstained shirt. Harlow stares out at the sea as she inches closer to oblivion.

The wind drowns out our yelling. She’s teetering on the verge of a hundred-foot drop, her body swaying in the strong breeze.

We won’t get there in time. She’s being pursued as more gunshots crack through the air. My vision narrows as the seconds crawl by.

Gunshots.

Spraying blood.