Dead Flesh by Tim O'Rourke

seem
that busy at all, and those people who were on them seemed to be in
a hurry. It was as if they were all late for a meeting or
something. But what was freaking me out more than that, was it
wasn’t just me and Isidor that they were ignoring, they were
ignoring each other. For such a small town, not one of them looked
at each other as they passed by. There were no ‘good mornings’, or
‘Hey, how you doing today?’ It was like they didn’t really see each
other – but they did. It was weird to watch how they almost seemed
to shy away from one another. I stared in amazement as they
crisscrossed back and forth in an almost desperate attempt not to
come in contact. One guy, elderly with a stick, stepped off the
curb to avoid a scrawny-looking woman who was coming down the
street towards him. But then another guy, mid-forties with a belly
that hung over the top of his trousers, stepped into the road from
the other side of the street as he tried to avoid someone else. On
seeing this, the old guy turned, then turned again as if trapped.
He shuffled around in a full circle as if trying to figure out
which way to go – how to escape.
    The thin,
homemade cigarette that hung from the corner of his wrinkled old
mouth fell out and he swore. Then looking up, he saw me watching
him and he cried out. He turned away and covered his face with his
arm, as if he didn’t want us to see him - or was it that he didn’t
want to see us? The old guy saw a gap and shuffled away, flinching
as someone else came too close to him.
    “Are you seeing
what I’m seeing?” I whispered, as we made our way through the town.
“This place is fucked up.”
    “What day is it
today?” Isidor asked, not looking at me, but watching the crazy
people on the street all around us.
    “Saturday, I
think,” I said back. “Why?”
    “So it’s not a
school day then,” he whispered, as one of the people toppled from
the edge of the curb in a desperate attempt to avoid us.
    “I guess,” I
breathed. “Why?”
    “Where are all
the kids?” he said, and this time he did look at me. “Shouldn’t
they be hanging about on street corners with their mates, out
shopping, stuff like that?”
    “It is cold and
it’s raining,” I reminded him.
    “Didn’t bother
that old guy,” Isidor said, his voice still low, just above a
whisper.
    Then looking
across the street, I said, “Over there! That woman, see her? She’s
pushing a pram and there’s a baby in it.”
    We watched her
hurry down the street, her head down as she tried to avoid everyone
else. But a man with an umbrella was heading towards her, and she
crossed the street to avoid him.
    Isidor yanked
me by the arm into a nearby shop doorway, and said, “Let’s hide in
here – keep out of her way.”
    “Why?” I
hushed.
    “Because you
know that smell that babies always have?”
    “No, not
really,” I told him, watching from the shadows of the shop doorway
as the woman with the pram headed towards us.
    “Believe me,
babies do have a certain odour,” he said, “And I can’t smell
it.”
    “So?” I
asked.
    “So look!” he
whispered as the woman passed us as we hid in the shop doorway.
    I followed
Isidor’s stare and looked into the pram and gasped.
    Clamping his
hand over my mouth, he put his lips to my ear and very quietly
said, “Shhh, Kayla.”
     

Chapter Ten
     
    Kiera
     
    With the manor
to myself, I could hear every creak and groan it made as the wind
outside began to blow harder about the eaves. It wasn’t that this
spooked me in any way, but just intensified my feelings of
loneliness. I wandered from one room to another on the ground
floor, each one of them dustier than the next. The furniture was
covered in white sheets. Cobwebs hung from the corners of the rooms
and swung down from the light fixtures overhead. Just off the main
hallway, there was a narrow passageway and its walls were lined
with mahogany, which gave it a dark and oppressive feeling. At the
end of it there was