‘Christ, it’s hard going in this.’ Duncan puts up a hand to shelter his face from the stinging wind, waving his torch with the other, letting off a spray of sparks. ‘Anyone see anything?’
See what, though? This is the question that occupies their thoughts.
Each of them is remembering the waitress’s words. A body. Every lump or divot in the ground is a potential source of horror. The torches that they hold in front of them don’t help as much as they might. They only make the rest of the night seem blacker still.
‘It’s like being back at school,’ Duncan shouts to the others. ‘Creeping around in the dark. Anyone for Survival?’
‘Don’t be a dick, Duncan,’ Femi shouts. ‘Have you forgotten what we’re supposed to be looking for?’
‘Well, yeah. Guess you can’t call it Survival, then.’ ‘That’s not funny,’ Femi shouts.
‘All right, Femi! Calm down. I was only trying to lighten the mood.’ ‘Yeah, but I don’t think now’s the time for that either.’
Duncan rounds on him. ‘I’m out here looking, aren’t I? Better than those cowardly fucks in the marquee.’
‘Survival wasn’t funny, anyway,’ Angus shouts. ‘Was it? I can see that now. I’m – I’m done with pretending it was all some big lark. It was totally messed up. Someone could have died … someone did die, actually. And the school let it carry on—’
‘That was an accident,’ Duncan cuts in. ‘When that kid died. That wasn’t because of Survival.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Angus shouts back. ‘How’d you figure that one? Just because you loved all of that shit. I know you got off on it, when it came to your turn, freaking the younger boys out. Can’t go around being a sadistic bully now, can you? I bet you haven’t had such a big thrill since
—’
‘Guys,’ Femi, ever the peacekeeper, calls to them. ‘Now is not the time.’
For a while they fall silent, continuing to trudge through the darkness, alone with their own thoughts. None of them have ever been out in weather like this. The wind comes and goes in squally gusts. Sometimes it drops enough for them to hear themselves think. But it is only gathering itself for the next onslaught: a busy murmuring, like the sound of thousands of insects swarming. At its highest it rises to a howl that sounds horribly like a person shrieking, an echo of the waitress’s scream. Their skin is flayed raw by it, their eyes blinded by tears. It sets their teeth on edge – and they are in its teeth.
‘It doesn’t feel real, does it?’ ‘What’s that, Angus?’
‘Well, you know – one minute we’re all in the marquee, prancing around, eating wedding cake. Now we’re out here looking for …’ he summons his courage to say it out loud: ‘a body. What do you think could have happened?’
‘We still don’t know what we’re looking for,’ Duncan answers. ‘We’re going off the word of one kid.’
‘Yeah, but she seemed pretty sure …’
‘Well,’ Femi calls, ‘there were a lot of drunk people about. It got seriously loose in there. It’s not all that difficult to imagine, is it?
Someone wandering out of the marquee into the dark, having an accident
—’
‘What about that Charlie bloke?’ Duncan suggests. ‘He was in a total state.’
‘Yeah,’ Femi shouts, ‘he was definitely the worse for wear. But after what we did to him on the stag—’
‘Less said about that the better, Fem.’
‘Did you see that bridesmaid, earlier, though?’ Duncan shouts. ‘Anyone else think the same thing I did?’
‘What?’ Angus answers, ‘that she was trying to … you know …’ ‘Top herself?’ Duncan shouts, ‘Yeah, I do. She’s been acting funny
since we arrived, hasn’t she? Clearly a bit of a basket case. Wouldn’t put it past her to have done something stup—’
‘Someone’s coming,’ Pete shouts, cutting him off, pointing into the darkness behind them, ‘someone’s coming for us—’
‘Oh shut up, you twat,’ Duncan rounds on him. ‘Christ, he’s doing my head in. We should take him back to the marquee. Because I swear—’
‘No.’ There’s a wobble in Angus’s voice. ‘He’s right. There’s something there—’
The others turn to look too, moving in a clumsy circle, bumping into each other, fighting down their unease. All of them fall silent as they stare behind them, into the night.
A light bobs towards them through the darkness. They hold out their own torches, strain to see what it is.
‘Oh,’ Duncan shouts, in some relief. ‘It’s just him – that fat bloke, the wedding planner’s husband.’
‘But wait,’ Angus says. ‘What’s that … in his hand?’
