Adam Blake had been brutally attacked, left on the threshold of death. The “Family” tended him, fixed his appalling wounds, and now all they could do was wait…

It was the waiting that was hardest for Linda Stephens. She and Adam had found something special, had fought long and hard in a hostile, dying world, against incredible odds. And now, just when they thought they had found happiness, disaster struck, leaving Adam fighting for his life.

Linda wasn’t who Adam thought she was; she held a secret, and now, as she maintained a lonely, fearful vigil over his sickbed, Linda resolved to tell him all…

PROLOGUE

SICKBED

I had no idea the bastard was there till he came bowling through us like an express train, scattering us like ninepins. But then, it wasn’t after any of us. It wanted Adam, who stood thirty yards away with his back to us at the edge of the cliff. Using a slanted rock jutting up from the hard ground, the Creep launched itself into space, its long, hairy arms raised high over its bullet head. Straight off, I saw it was missing the right claw. Shock slammed into me; it couldn’t be possible! That was weeks ago and five hundred miles away on Queen Elizabeth the Second Bridge. But there was no mistaking the unique markings on its filthy hide, the black lightning bolt across its powerful chest.

Just at that moment, Adam chose to turn around, probably warned by some innate sixth sense, or maybe just dumb luck. His arm came up protectively as the monster dropped out of the sky, taking them both to the ground in a whirling and thrashing of limbs, its jaws clamped onto Adam’s forearm. His scream reverberated around the low Scottish foothills as they struggled on the ground. I watched helplessly as Adam struggled with the monster, who was beating on him mercilessly.

With a titanic effort, Adam threw the beast from him, and they rolled apart. His arm was bloody and mangled, hanging limply at his side, blood cascaded onto the ground. Grunting, he eased the injured limb into the front of his shirt before drawing his knife, holding it awkwardly in his right hand.

“Come on then, you-son-of-a-bitch, come and get it…”

Adam’s voice was shaky as he faced the Creep. Breaking out of my stupor, I screamed at him to drop to the ground; my Glock appeared magically in my hand. Whether he heard or not, I couldn’t tell as he swayed drunkenly on wide-braced legs, the knife held low. With shocking speed, the Creep was on him. The knife slashed once, twice, then Adam screamed as the brute sank its teeth into his right shoulder, biting deep.

They fell back, the Creep on top, raking and pounding on the helpless man pinned beneath. Grabbing a handful of hair, the beast wrenched Adam’s head back, baring his throat. The red-stained mouth gaped wide; vicious teeth glinted, dripping blood and poisonous saliva.

I couldn’t get a shot! They were twisting and turning too close together. The beast glared insanely, fixated on Adam’s exposed throat. With a blood-curdling scream, Adam lunged, twisting up and over, the knife punching outwards. They rolled, struggling, slashing, and with horror, I watched as they tumbled over the edge of the cliff.

Visions of the cruel, sharp rocks at the base of the cliff loomed dark in my mind.

“Adam!”

My scream shattered the air as I rushed forward, but Charlie was quicker. We both skidded to a stop on our knees at the cliff’s edge, not wanting to look but knowing we must. Ten feet below on a wide ledge slumped two bodies, the Creep, on its back lying beneath, Adam spread-eagled on top, both unmoving.

Without hesitation, Charlie swung over the edge and scrabbled down. The ledge was barely large enough to accommodate all three of them as Charlie gingerly picked his way beside them, gently easing Adam’s body back against the cliff face. The Creep was motionless; its red eyes glazed over in the vacancy of death. Two horrendous wounds lacerated its chest and abdomen like a cross. Adam’s knife resided in its throat.

With a grunt, Charlie braced himself against the cliff wall and, using his feet and legs, heaved the bloody carcass off the ledge, sending it tumbling down to the unforgiving rocks twenty-five feet below. Then, gently, he laid Adam out on his back. Stripping off his belt, Charlie strapped it around Adam’s upper arm and cinched it tight, pulling it as hard as he could. Desperately he looked left and right, then upwards; there was no way he was going to be able to lift Adam off the ledge unaided.

“Get me a rope!” he yelled. “And Sally, get Sally!”

“I’ll get her,” said Terry Moore, and he was off like a whippet down the slope back to the farm.

Sprinting down to the foot of the hill to where my motorbike was parked, I got a coil of nylon rope from the pannier. Panting with the exertion, I rushed back and threw one end down to Charlie, who deftly tied it around Adam’s chest. Sean, Julie, and I took up the slack.

“Easy, easy, pull him up!” directed Charlie.

Sean took the weight as Julie and I eased Adam’s limp body over the lip of the cliff. Even through all the blood and dirt, I could see he was deathly pale. Charlie had done a good job on his arm, but his shoulder was bleeding profusely and there was a nasty gash on his head. Blood was everywhere.

“Shouldn’t we get him back?” Julie, Charlie’s wife, said, worry darkening her eyes.

“I don’t think he’d make it,” said Charlie, kneeling beside me. “Sweet Jesus, look at his arm…”

The forearm was totally mangled; at least a third of the tissue was gone, maybe more, and the bones were splintered, the tendons torn. If Charlie hadn’t applied the tourniquet, I think Adam would have been dead already.

A rush of movement behind me made me turn. I sighed with relief as Sally came trotting up, Terry close behind carrying a large black hold-all. Several of the others appeared. Sally’s eyes widened briefly as she knelt beside Adam. I saw her jaw tighten as she examined the terrible injuries. Then, with a small shake of her head, she set to work. Packing the shoulder wound, Sally bandaged it criss-cross fashion, then she made a sling and bound Adam’s arm tightly to his chest. Another dressing swathed his head.

“We need to get him back as soon and as carefully as possible,” said Sally. “He lost a lot of blood and we can’t allow him to go into shock.”

“How the hell are we going to carry him without causing further harm?” asked Charlie.

“Here,” said Sean McCormick, stepping forward.

He was a big, buff Irishman, as tough as nails, which was appropriate, seeing as he was a builder by trade. Going down on one knee, Sean eased his huge hands beneath Adam’s inert body and then, as easily as lifting a newborn babe, and just as tenderly, he rose in one fluid movement, cradling Adam gently in his massive arms.