by Kolin Wood
Still Juliana said nothing.
Now that he was sitting upright, he was able to reach out and touch her. When he laid his hand on her shoulder he found that she was shivering.
“Are you okay?”
He heard her draw in a deep breath. The shaking lessened a little.
“I guess,” she said after a significant pause. “Just… really thought that I was a goner back there.” She lifted an arm and wiped her face on the sleeve of her jacket. “With everything else that—” She stopped mid-sentence.
Tanner did not push. He knew what she was trying to say. How much more would they be expected to take? For Christ’s sake, only earlier that day they had been sat in the sun, drinking sweet tea from a proper cup outside of a shop. Now, it was like they had been picked up and tossed back into the fiery pits of hell once again. The illusion of normality suddenly seemed like such a cruel sleight of hand.
His stomach contracted. Unwilling to reveal the true extent of his illness to her, Tanner rolled away. No time to slacken now.
The loft was low-ceilinged, not tall enough to stand up in, and stretched off into the darkness on either side, giving him the impression that it filled the entire footprint of the room below. Supporting, diagonal beams, like the one that he had used to hook his legs around, pointed down at regular intervals from a central point on the ceiling, limiting the area beneath it to a single, boarded crawlspace. The confinement condensed the warm air.
“I think we should try to find a way out,” Juliana said, her normal voice returned. “If we can get out onto the roof, maybe we can climb down without them seeing us.”
Tanner considered the option for a second. He thought back to the first time that he had seen the building, entrenched amongst the weeds and undergrowth in the park. Greenery covered it like a mesh, providing more than enough ways to climb down… or up. He had seen how quickly the things had moved, how easily the one had scaled the ladder. Sure, the light from the moon might provide them with a clearer shot, but three of them? And what if there were more? It was too dark to tell. If only he could trap them inside, somehow…
“Juliana, give me your bag.”
She turned to him and he imagined the confused arch of her eyebrows. She groaned as she lifted the small bag from her shoulders and felt the weight as she dropped it on his lap. His fingers fumbled with the draw string and he cursed himself for being unable to perform such a simple task.
“The bottle inside, can you get it for me?”
He felt the weight on his legs lessen, heard her slide the small plastic pommel up the string and rummage through the contents within. The bag did not carry much: extra ammo for their guns, a knife, a lighter, and a few gulps of the home brew still in the bottle from the previous evening.
The lighter clicked and Juliana’s face suddenly became visible in the darkness. She smiled, but the expression was pained.
“Quickly, cut some cloth from my shirt, a few strips, long enough to soak into the liquid at the bottom.”
She nodded and the lighter clicked off, plunging them into darkness once more. For a few moments, a small red light danced in the middle of his vision, worsening every time he blinked. Above the screams, he heard the sound of tearing cloth. When the light returned, Juliana was holding the bottle, complete with a cloth wick. He took it from her.
“I’m going to need to hang down far enough so that I can hit the door. Hopefully these things are afraid of fire.”
Juliana raised her eyebrows, her face detailing her doubt.
“This building is made entirely of wood. The floor is rotten but the walls are dry. With the spate of sun we’ve had, she’ll be like a tinderbox to a match. If I can trap them inside then maybe we can burn these bastards to death.”
“And if we can’t?” Juliana said.
For a few moments, Tanner did not reply. He had not considered the possibility of failure with his plan, to do so would be futile. Of course it was full of holes and destined to fail, but right now, trapped in the dark with monsters circling like piranhas below, they were all out of options.
“If they aren’t then I guess the fire’ll provide us with the light we need to shoot them dead,” he said, looking for a positive and thinking on his feet.
“Or we’ll burn with it,” Juliana added. Clearly she was unconvinced but had no better idea to offer.
“Look for a gap in the roof,” he continued, unwilling to be pulled into her slump. “But don’t start kicking till I’ve thrown the bottle—we don’t want them running out there before us.”
He felt a warm hand on his shoulder then heard her shuffle into a kneeling position. She took off along the boards, crawling into that dark space where he knew that the air would be so warm as to be unbearable. Even this close to the broken hatch, it was only when he put his face close to the hole that he could feel the wash of the cold, night air on his face. Anything more than a few inches higher and it felt like he was sitting in an oven.
A minute or so passed. More than once, Tanner heard Juliana curse as she snagged a limb on a splinter of wood or a protruding nail. Several times he lit the lighter and held it out, only to stop upon realising that the darkness was just too thick for the tiny flame to fight against. Finally, the answer that he was waiting for came back in a muted voice. “I’ve found it! Here. There’s a space where a tree branch has broken an entire section of the roof away. You can literally push through the leaves and climb out!”
He heard rustling and suddenly Juliana’s face lit up with the bright blue glow of the moon. She turned to the light, and he watched as she took several, deep, open-mouthed breaths of cool air.
“Not yet!” he shouted, louder than intended.
Not that it mattered. Below him, the monsters were still ferociously battling. Frustrated howls rang out as they fought and scuffled one another for position below the hatch. His raised voice only had the effect of energising the foray.
Juliana did not move.
Tanner covered the top of the bottle with his thumb and shook it vigorously a few times to ensure a liberal covering of the cloth wick inside, very aware that he would only get one chance. He shifted awkwardly, until he was lying on his back with the crooks of his knees anchored around the same roof cross-beam as before, and slowly lowered his top half until he was positioned at the very edge of the hole.
Flashes of yellow and red streaked the murky soup of moving shadows below. Beneath the breathy screams, he was sure that he could hear a chattering, like the snapping of teeth.
Blood rushed to his head, bringing the sound of the ocean to his ears. For a second, he thought that he might pass out. Aware that time was of the essence, Tanner set the bottle down on the board, picked up the lighter, and flashed the wheel.
The spark brought fresh chaos, and the sound of screaming intensified. But the lighter did not ignite. More fireflies danced in his eyes, intensified by the blood flooding his skull.
He flicked it again.
This time the flame danced into life, sneaking up the side to burn his thumb. With the muscles in his stomach aching and his vision blurry, Tanner lowered the flame to the wick.
Boom.
The volatility of the liquid was no surprise given the pain it dealt its imbibers upon ingestion. The cloth ignited in a ball of fire and heat.
With no time to lose, less the whole top section of the building should turn into a human grill pan, Tanner swung his back from the board and dropped it down through the hatch. It took a few moments to gather his bearings, but he soon saw the white spear of moonlight and followed it to its source at the door. Pain burned like battery acid in his shoulder as he wound back his arm and tossed the bottle with all of his might at the space just inside the threshold.
There was a whooshing sound. The bottle arced like a comet; it’s tailing flame bathing the melee below in a wash of orange and ochre. Bloody eyes looked up at him with predatory intent, yellow faces like those of demons, bathed in firelight.
The b
ottle struck the planks about three feet inside the door. The glass exploded on impact, shooting a circle of flame and setting everything within a ten foot radius on fire. Even from as high up as he was, Tanner felt the hot puff of air on his face.
The howls of rage turned into cowering yelps of pain as the things below him covered their bald heads with filth-encrusted hands and scurried toward the back wall, away from the inferno and out of sight.
Tanner clenched his stomach muscles and swung himself back up through the hatch, ignoring a dig of pain from the old knife wound in his side. Sweat dripped from the end of his nose as the claustrophobic air of the loft closed in around him once again.
“Now!” he shouted with the last of his strained breath, relieved as the pain behind his knees subsided and he unhooked himself from the sharp, wooden beam.
Some way off, Juliana sprang into action. There was a snapping of branches and then more white moonlight flooded into the dark crawl space as she pushed her way out onto the roof.
Tanner began to crawl in the direction of the opening. His knees caught splinters as he shuffled as fast as he could away from the hatch. With his head feeling like it was squashed between two pressure plates and only one arm, his progress was slow and awkward. The smoke in the tight space was soon so thick that he struggled to breathe. Unable to cover his face, he closed his eyes to a squint and coughed, tasting burnt wood.
Just when he thought that he could take no more, an arm hooked him under his shoulder and pulled him upward. Sharp leaves cut at his face and pointed twigs stabbed at the sensitive skin beneath his eyes as he was dragged through the hole and out into the gusting, fresh night air beyond it. His calf muscles began to burn immediately as he stood upright, and his legs adjusted to cope with the moderate sloping pitch of the roof.
With his eyes full of tears, Tanner coughed and struggled to clear his lungs of the smoke as Juliana pulled him away from the hole.
Once they were a sufficient distance, Tanner felt her release his arm. His chest felt tight. Desperate for breath, he gulped hard, and the rushing air, laced with the fresh budding blossom of summer, had never tasted so good. He felt warm fingers wipe some of the sweat-matted hair away from his face.
“You don’t look so good, Tanner,” Juliana said.
Tanner coughed again and nodded. A thin globule of spit trailed from his bottom lip.
No shit.
“I feel wonderful,” he replied, the sarcasm clear as he fought against the threat of another full coughing fit. There was no point in telling her that he was barely managing to remain upon his feet. He would keep on soldiering until he fell.
“And to think that we’ve been drinking that shit!” she said.
At the other end of the building, fire crackled. A thick plume of black smoke twisted towards the sky, flashing purple and blue as carbon particles reflected the moonlight. At a section close to where he believed the door to be, yellow fingers of flame licked up and over the edge of the roof, bathing the area around them in a warm light. From inside the building, the things continued to scream.
When he turned back, Juliana was standing on the other edge, looking down over the side.
Aware that the fire would act like a beacon to anybody within miles of the park, Tanner moved after her. They needed to find a way down, and quickly.
“The pond,” Juliana said. “We are going to have to jump.”
Tanner squinted his eyes. A thick shroud of darkness covered the ground, some twenty feet below. From the shadow, the tops of the bulrushes swayed like dancing marionettes in the growing breeze. To his left, the branches of a fallen tree offered an alternative route, the limbs like decayed, skeletal fingers clawing the roof.
Juliana shook her head and motioned down to his arm. “Not unless you want to risk breaking your neck.”
Anger and frustration boiled inside of Tanner. He wanted to say something to defend himself. The light from the flames lit up the side of Juliana’s face. She smiled and reached for him, gently squeezing his good shoulder. “I’ll go first, and then you drop the guns down to me,” she said.
Beneath where they were standing, the screaming intensified, howling wails of pain that rose with the smoke. Occasional loud bangs accompanied the din, as the building began to fail and collapse. They were out of time. Tanner nodded, and Juliana handed him her rifle.
“Let’s hope it’s deep enough,” she said, as she took a few steps backward. “I’ll see you in a second.” And without delaying herself any longer, she ran forward and jumped into the dark space beyond the roof.
Chapter 22
Cold and dripping wet, Juliana and Tanner stumbled clear of the grass and brambles of the park. In a small copse of trees at the edge beside the road, they stopped to catch their breath.
“My legs,” Juliana panted, as she dropped and slid her back down the thick, green trunk of a tree. “They feel like they’re on fire!”
Hands rested on her knees, Juliana bent forward. Bloody skin showed through the tears in her jeans. Her legs felt like they had been sprayed with hot acid. The thorns from the briar patches—thick and unforgiving— had snagged and sliced with abandon. They had not stopped running since the flames from the pavilion had first warmed their backs, some fifteen minutes ago.
“We can’t stop,” Tanner said, panting heavily, his face ashen. “Whatever those things…”
As if on cue, something suddenly lurched from a side street and sprinted up the road, cutting him off mid-sentence. Its bare feet made soft padding sounds over the phlegmy rasp of its breath.
They watched silently from the shadows as the thing ran past, its nose twitching like a rabid dog, and disappeared into the night. Juliana looked to Tanner who had the shotgun raised; sure that he was thinking the same: there was no way of knowing how many of the things were running loose in the city.
“We need to get back to the room,” Tanner said, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “Get our stuff and clear the fuck out of here.” His eyes burned into hers; even in the shadows, the grey-blue of his iris shone luminous. “Enough is enough.”
“And Doyle?” Juliana asked, although she already knew the answer. Since his disappearance, she had been surprised by how much relief she felt at not having him around. His presence created a tense atmosphere, one which fell away the minute she and Tanner were left alone. Perhaps it was the fact that he reminded her of her time locked up in that place with him. Every night when she closed her eyes, she would revisit the scene, watching on as the rats opened his throat… smelling the rancid odour of the slurry that had run a ring around the city. Regardless of whatever fragile bond now existed between them, Doyle’s face took her back there.
“Fuck Doyle,” Tanner spat. “He made his choices. He’s on his own, now.”
The leaves rustled in the trees overhead, moving in a wave as if strummed by fingers from above. A cooling breeze found its way inside her jacket, drying her sweat-covered body. The weather had begun to pick up. She looked back the way they had come, into the park. The soft red glow of the pavilion could still be seen burning faintly through the trees.
“And the girl?” she asked.
This time Tanner baulked. He turned away from the park, subconsciously pointing his body in the direction of the square and their room. When he spoke, his voice sounded faint, uncommitted, and distant. “What about her? We don’t owe her anything. We don’t even know her.”
A frown creased her brow as Juliana stared at Tanner’s broad back. Surely he didn’t still mean the things that he was saying? After everything that they had been through, all that they had witnessed—the cruelty, the exploitation, and the suffering—could he really be that cold? But, then again, maybe he was right. The illusion of peace offered them by the Refuge would soon be shattered, just like it had at the New Capital and everywhere else that she had seen. What were they going to do? Save everybody? With a slump of the shoulders, she too turned to face the road and closed her eyes.
Promise
me, that you’ll go after my Anabelle. Make sure she is safe. Promise me, that.
Bennet’s words echoed in her mind, and in that moment, she could see herself, stood at the entrance to the prison, it’s dark gates mocking her cowardice, her legs set hard like concrete posts, unwilling to let her step back inside. Bennet. The man had sacrificed his life, and she had betrayed his dying words.
Her throat constricted and she stifled a sob. Had his daughter’s body been one of those faceless, half-eaten corpses that littered the floors of the abandoned prison? She didn’t know and she never would.
Too little, too late.
“I can’t,” she said, wiping a tear from her reddened cheek. “I can’t just leave her there.”
Tanner turned, his face drawn and wet. He shook his head. “You don’t even know her, Juliana.”
Juliana set her shoulders back and raised her chin. “And? So what? Do any of us really know each other? If we turn our backs on these people, then what is the point, Tanner? Huh? What is the point to any of this? Where are we even going anyway? Are we just going to keep on running? Running and hiding, waiting for the next psycho to come and take what we think is ours, huh? Because that’s what’s going to happen!” With her voice raised, Juliana shook. “There’s no meaning to any of this!”
Tanner continued to stare.
“These people are trying to do something here, Tanner; something good! They are trying to build. We… we can be part of that,” she said, lowering her voice as a softness clipped the edges of her frustration. She smiled. “We need to stand for something; otherwise, there’s no point. We need to help these people. I’m not running, not anymore.” The wind came again, ruffling the hair around her face and she hooked several strands away with her finger. “Please, Tanner. Stay. Do this with me.”