The Hunt for Pierre Jnr by David M. Henley Page A

it.’
     
    ‘He was an infant. He fled without direction.’
     
    ‘You don’t know that. And besides, he stayed.’
     
    Pete left it alone. She was right, but she didn’t know for certain either. He saw her smirk.  I hate telepaths,  he thought, and she laughed.
     
    ~ * ~
     
    Beneath them a sepia yard wavered in the wind. Farming tools lay collapsed and overcome by the patchy crab grass. Window shutters shifted slowly back and forth. All the buildings were covered in the same faded dust.
     
    The squibs settled facing the farmhouse. Pete watched through the screen, looking for any sign of life. The escorts unpacked their servitors, who then arrayed themselves on either side of the vehicle, waiting for Pete and Tamsin to lead them in.
     
    ‘What a great place to grow up.’
     
    ‘Exactly what I was going to say.’ Tamsin grinned. ‘Shall we?’
     
    ‘Do you think he’s in there?’ asked Pete.
     
    ‘No. It’s quiet. If he was in there, I’d be able to tell by now, and so would you.’
     
    ‘Unless he knows your trick. There’s something in there.’
     
    ‘Don’t be so nervous.’ Tamsin popped the hatch. ‘He’s long gone, Pete — if he was ever here in the first place.’
     
    Pete took a deep breath and climbed out after her, keeping a watch on the homestead. ‘Your power for doubt is incredible. You saw his parents.’
     
    ‘All I saw were two unreliable witnesses.’
     
    Geof: Any time you two feel like heading in ... We’re all waiting here.
     
    Pete nodded and looked at Tamsin. ‘Ladies first.’
     
    ‘I’ll watch your back.’
     
    ‘I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.’
     
    ‘It’ll keep you on your toes then.’
     
    Geof: Pete! Just go in. I’ve got your back too.
     
    There was no more excuse to delay, and Pete approached the creaking house. The path was dry under his feet, and the wood of the steps bowed under his weight.
     
    ‘Hello?’ he called out as he climbed the stairs, and then once more when he got to the porch. ‘Hello? Is anyone at home?’
     
    ‘Try knocking,’ Tamsin suggested.
     
    Begrudgingly, he hammered his fist on the door frame and called out again.
     
    They waited for something to happen. The shutters swept back and forth, and the structure whimpered under the growing wind.
     
    Pete: Let’s send a servitor in.
     
    ‘Coward,’ Tamsin accused.
     
    Geof: He’s right. Move aside so I can send a bot through.
     
    ‘Forget that.’ Tamsin pushed the door open and stepped inside. ‘Hello, householders. Services are entering your premises. Do not even attempt to resist.’
     
    Pete followed her in, a grey sort of darkness thickening a few steps from the doorway.
     
    ‘Lazarus, get in here,’ Tamsin called, more emotionless than ever.
     
    He found her in a lounging room, nearly full of dilapidated couches and armchairs, everything covered in dusty crochet and piles of discarded clothing.
     
    ‘Not clothes, Pete. They’re breathing.’
     
    He looked closer and recognised them as bodies. There were four of them, two on chairs and two on the floor. ‘What’s wrong with them?’
     
    ‘I’m not sure. Is this what your sister was like?’
     
    Pete shook his head. ‘No, it wasn’t this blatant.’
     
    Tamsin knelt beside the closest of the crumpled forms. ‘I’m not reading anything from them. You?’
     
    ‘Something, but it’s odd. Stray thoughts. Incomplete —’
     
    Arms shot up and suddenly fingers were clawing at Tamsin’s neck, dragging her down.
     
    ‘You shouldn’t have come here,’ the body rasped. ‘You shouldn’t have come here.’
     
    Before Pete could help her, two more of the bodies had awakened and grabbed at him from behind. In his mind he heard one thought,  you shouldn’t have come here , echoed by four dry voices repeating the mantra as one.
     
    ‘You shouldn’t have come here.’
     
    Pete: Geof!
     
    It was less than a minute of desiccated fingers trying to pull off their skin and