Wake Wood by KA John

dead livestock,’ Patrick suggested.
    ‘Diseased, you mean? You haven’t mentioned anything.’
    ‘There’ve been none that I’ve come across.’ Patrick deliberately set a course away from the machine – and the direction the wailing seemed to be coming from. They entered another copse of trees. The centre had been cleared and there was a circle of tall, narrow, pointed standing stones.
    ‘I didn’t know there were any ancient monuments around here.’
    ‘I read something about one in a history of the area,’ he revealed.
    ‘What did it say?’
    ‘Not much, other than it’s impossible to gauge the age of these rings of standing stones. Someone once told me that the Victorians were fond of erecting them, so it could be a sort of folly.’ Patrick shone the torchlight on them. Offerings of ornaments on leather thongs had been tied to the top of the stone in the centre of the circle.
    ‘They look like grave markers,’ Louise observed.
    Patrick had thought the same thing but he’d kept his opinion to himself. Anxious to leave the spot, he walked on swiftly.
    He scrambled up a steep hillside and tumbled down the other side, falling into a ditch filled with thorn bushes that tore his clothes and hands. He lay, too stunned for a moment to cry out or move.
    ‘Are you all right?’ she called urgently.
    Hurt, terrified, as another wail echoed through the darkness, he fought the urge to scream. He had to keep strong for Louise. ‘Stay where you are,’ he ordered when he sensed her drawing near to the edge of the ditch.
    ‘You need a hand.’
    ‘I need you in one piece, not on top of me. It’s lethal down here.’ He clambered awkwardly from the ditch only for his feet to sink into a quagmire.
    ‘Patrick …’
    ‘We’ll be fine,’ he assured her. He only wished he could believe his own words. ‘Take my hand.’ He offered it to Louise, who’d remained perched above the ditch on the hill. ‘And tread carefully, the ground here is treacherous.’
    He shone the torch ahead of her but before she’d walked a step the light dimmed and flickered out.
    ‘Brilliant!’ he exclaimed bitterly. ‘That’s all we need.’ His voice rose high, bordering on hysteria.
    ‘Give it a moment for our eyes to adjust and we’ll see a little more clearly.’ Louise forced herself to concentrate on the practical.
    He did as she suggested. The moment she joined him on the other side of the ditch he moved on, setting a brisk pace.
    Night had never held any terrors for him before. But the rumble of the JCB working in the distant field, and, above it, the eerie high-pitched wails, had unnerved him as much as they had Louise. The longer they went on, the more ominous they sounded.
    Louise was soon breathless from the effort it took to keep up with Patrick. Her sheepskin coat was sodden with the rain it had absorbed and her boots were even worse, soaking wet and caked with mud that squelched with every step she took. Terrified, shivering, she jumped every time the weird cries pierced the air. There were scurries and scuttles in the undergrowth she imagined to be giant rats – or worse. But apparently oblivious to her fears, Patrick plodded determinedly onwards.
    After what seemed like hours of walking, they saw a faint glow shining through the trees ahead.
    ‘That’s the outside light to Arthur’s house. We’re nearly there.’ Patrick helped her over another barbed-wire fence and they walked up the tarmacked drive. He stood on the doorstep, lifted the metal knocker and brought it down sharply. The sound resounded, echoing and clanging through the house. He waited a minute before knocking again. When there was still no answer, he stepped back and looked around the garden. ‘Arthur has to be here. Look, his car is parked in front of the garage.’ He reached for his mobile phone. ‘I’ll try ringing him.’
    Feeling distinctly uneasy, Louise couldn’t wait to leave. While Patrick dialled, she said, ‘I’ll check around