Charlotte’s smartphone buzzed, a notification flashing across the screen.
‘Congratulations! Your video has been watched 8,000 times. Keep going.’
Don’t worry, I will, Charlotte thought, popping open a tube of cheese and chive Pringles to celebrate. The breakfast of champions.
She glanced up at her laptop screen, perched on top of Velma’s cupboards. Another 400 people had viewed the video in the last minute alone. This was it! Cryptogal-UK was officially going viral, and it was all thanks to the Doctor.
She smiled as she imagined his face when he saw the video. That would teach him. You can’t go round wiping people’s phones, whether you’re UNIT or not.
Still, she’d had the last laugh.
Comments were appearing beneath the video now, including some of the biggest cryptozoologists in the trade, names she’d admired for years. They were heaping praise on the video, asking questions and – most importantly – theorising what she had in store for her next vlog.
Suddenly everything that happened over the last twenty-four hours was worth it. Getting soaked in the woods. Getting scared senseless. Today was the day when Cryptogal-UK levelled up. Today was when people took her seriously.
Well, most of them.
A new comment appeared, with an all-too-familiar name.
YetiHunter1997.
The guy was a jerk. Everyone knew it. But they also listened to what he had to say, even if it was mainly trolling. She’d met him once, at a convention, and he couldn’t have been more different to his online persona. In person, YetiHunter1997 was an ineffectual douche who could barely maintain eye contact.
Huddled safely in his bedroom, the mouse of a man became a monster. Armed with an ergonomic keyboard and a complete lack of self-awareness, YetiHunter1997 was never happier than when pummelling others into submission with one of his many, many opinions.
This morning was no different. Crunching another mouthful of crisps, Charlotte scrolled down.
New Comment: @YetiHunter1997 – 27 seconds ago
Huh. Obviously fake. She’s got nothing and she nos it. Better luck nxt time girlie. #Lame
The hashtag was followed by a line of smug emoticons that rolled back and forth in mocking hysterics.
‘Ignore him,’ Charlotte said out loud. ‘He’s not worth it.’ But even as she said it, she knew she couldn’t let him have the last word.
She snatched the laptop from the cupboard, already composing a reply that would make his ego bleed. Smiling to herself, Charlotte started typing.
Hey neckbeard, why don’t you do us all a favour an
‘No!’ Charlotte’s cursor was replaced by the spinning ball of doom.
She clicked on the Wi-Fi icon. The signal had completely vanished. In fact, all the networks in Bugs Close had disappeared, both secure and insecure. Had there been a power cut?
She reached over to the window to pull back the curtain and the van rocked.
‘Hey!’
It happened again, harder this time. She jumped out of the seat, her computer slipping from her lap to crash to the floor. She swore, throwing out a hand to steady herself. Velma swayed back and forth, her suspension creaking. Someone was outside. For a moment, Charlotte had the crazy thought that it was the loser that had attacked Bill, but he’d still be locked up, wouldn’t he?
The rocking got worse. She fell forward, landing beside her laptop. ‘Cut it out! What do you think you’re doing?’
The door rattled, but the lock held. She yanked at the curtain to see who was outside and screamed, stepping back, the laptop screen crunching beneath her foot.
The curtain had fallen back, but the face she’d seen lingered in her mind. The snarling mouth. The crooked nose. The burning eyes.
It had to be a mask. Yeah, that’s what it was. Kids trying to scare her.
Congratulations. Mission accomplished.
Her phone bounced down from the cupboard. She snatched it up, trying to call 999.
No reception. Damn it!
She was thrown against the cupboard, the thin wood splintering against her weight. ‘Stop it,’ she yelled, not expecting an answer.
She got one anyway. Rasping voices, like nothing she had ever heard.
‘Where is the Lost? Where?’
Something was scraping against the outside of the van, the windows, the doors. She wanted to believe it was keys, but knew that it wasn’t.
She held her phone up with shaking hands. She may not be able to call for help, but she could record what was happening. She tapped the camera app, and a blue spark erupted from the screen. She yelped in surprise, throwing the handset across the van.
Velma bounced, as if she was being lifted from the ground and dropped again. They were going to turn her over. Charlotte curled into a ball, screwing her eyes up tight, as the world went mad. The cracked screen of her laptop flared before dying completely, smoke rising from the keyboard. Static burst from the speakers in the door, the radio turning itself on to blare nothing but white noise.
And then a blinding flash of light burned through the windows, turning her eyelids red.
Charlotte’s own scream joined the wail of the speakers before they stopped dead. Everything stopped. The sibilant voices from outside. The scrape of nails against metal. Even the rocking. The only sound in the van was the rasp of her own frightened breath.
Charlotte opened her eyes and looked around. Light was streaming through the thin curtains, but it was wrong. It took a moment to realise why.
The light wasn’t the dull grey of a damp October morning. It was warm and bright, like a summer’s day. She listened, still wrapped in a ball. There was no traffic, the constant thrum of cars and lorries in the next road gone. Instead, Charlotte could hear the twittering of a thousand birds. That wasn’t an exaggeration. She had never heard so many birds, not even when her dad had taken her to an aviary as a kid. She hadn’t liked it, being shut in with the birds, the squawks, the caws, the flapping of tiny wings. That was nothing compared to the sound from outside. Now that she was aware of it, she could hear nothing else.
Charlotte unfurled her legs, pushing herself up from the floor. She went to pull back the curtain, but stopped. What was she afraid of? What did she think she would see?
This was ridiculous. There was nothing to be scared of. Just a bunch of kids in stupid masks playing a stupid trick. Before she could change her mind, Charlotte slid back the door.
She jumped out of the van, her trainers sinking into soft earth instead of hard paving stones. She fell back, whacking her head on Velma’s door. She landed on her back, and swore for the second time in ten minutes, rubbing the back of her aching head. The air was warm and close, her clothes sticking to her skin.
Charlotte opened her eyes, looked around and started screaming all over again.