‘Who might you be?’ Ben muttered. ‘I’ve clocked you over there in the trees watching the house.’
A man with a rifle strapped to his back stepped onto the porch, looking out at the light shining in the woods. Ben stepped backward, but the man heard his movement and spotted his retreating figure. He raised the rifle and called out, but his voice was lost as the first caravan erupted in a violent ball of flame. The bang lifted the van off the ground with the sides cartwheeling into the night. The brilliant white explosion knocked Ben on his backside. The man dropped his weapon when his body and the front of the house collided.
The second explosion erupted inside the caravan on the opposite side of the drive. The sides inflated, the glass smashed, but it remained intact. Flames sprouted from the windows, followed by a thick cloud of smoke. Men ran from the house, shooting into the night.
From the trees on the hill to Ben’s right, flashes lit up the night, followed by gunfire. He dropped to the ground and slithered backward. The side windows smashed open and gunfire erupted from inside the house. He covered his ears from the deafening retorts. Two figures ran from the cover of the woods. A flash lit up the truck showing the silhouette of a man with a weapon on his shoulder. Ben heard the whoosh and the missile smacked into the building. The explosion ignited with a deep roar and a ball of fire. Glass smashed and sprinkled down on Ben’s head. He retreated backward, his face lit up by the fire eating at the front corner of the house.
Two figures flung themselves behind a silver caravan, firing into the building. A third figure abandoned the jeep. He strode with purpose, the light of the burning buildings guiding his steps. As the two bodies ran from the van a bright light ignited and the van exploded. The flare raged bright, the van lifting and bouncing onto its side as fire ate at its heart.
Ben snuck through the back door and found himself in a cluttered utility room. Two lamps hung from the door leading to the kitchen. A dull flickering light showed guns on racks against the wall to his left. Boxes of ammunition lay half emptied on a cluttered wooden bench. A rifle was clipped to the wall and a handgun sat on the bench, half covered by an oily rag. Ben dropped the weapon and cloth into his coat pocket and topped up with handfuls of bullets.
An explosion rocked the building and Ben tangled with a gutted beast hanging from a hook in the ceiling. A bloodied globule stretched from its severed head to a bucket of congealed blood. He backed away from the beast, tripped and landed on a metal hatch. Still watching the gruesome beast he righted himself and pushed through the door into an old country kitchen. Hurricane lamps – wicks turned low – hung from metal hooks. An old wood burner and long wooden table filled the room. Smoke crept through the door opposite and bright yellow light flared at its edges. Footsteps staggered past and a body fell into the room. Ben stepped over the prostrate figure and found himself in a hallway lit by fire.
A bright orange glow radiated from the front room to his left and a scream sounded as a flaming figure crashed against the doorjamb. It spun and flapped and cried in pain. Ben moved toward him, but the heat and panic stopped him intervening. He ran back to the room with the beast and grabbed two coats. The burning figure was writhing and crying out in pain as he ran from the kitchen. Ben threw both coats over the body and slapped at the flames, rolling it across the floor to quell the flames.
A shot spat off the plaster behind him and smashed into a large painting of a dog in full racing colors. He stooped low and left the crying body with wisps of smoke rising and the scent of burnt flesh overpowering. He stumbled into a study full of smoke with two men crouched behind an upturned desk. Guns rested on the wooden ledge, the men firing through broken windows into the night. A staircase led him to a collection of rooms. Bunk beds lined the walls, small faces pressed to the windows watching the action in the front yard.
‘You need to leave the house,’ he said. ‘You can still get out through the back.’
‘Who da feck are you?’
It seemed a fair question. ‘The house is on fire. You need to leave.’
He ran from the room as the children pelted him with shoes and toys. They chased him to the stairs with well-aimed strikes and a load of verbal. Smoke choked the hallway. The large woman, holding her apron over her mouth, pushed past him running for the top floor. She didn’t offer him a second glance. At the top of the stairs, she twirled and bemoaned the destruction of her beautiful house. Ben returned to the kitchen, confident Lucas, Claudia and his friends weren’t in the house.
He stopped in the utility room, tapping at the metal flooring that had tripped him earlier. He found a handle, released the bolt and lifted the heavy metal door. A face looked up at him.
‘What’s going on out there?’ she said. It had been dark when Ben met Claudia earlier, but the mass of dark curly hair suggested he’d found Max’s daughter. ‘You got my boy?’
Voices sounded in the kitchen. Claudia pulled at his trousers. ‘They’ll shoot you if they find you,’ she said.
‘We can make the door. Quick.’
Claudia climbed the ladder, but urgent voices stopped her ascent. A door slammed and footsteps approached at pace. Ben pushed Claudia down the stairs and followed, dropping the hatch to hide his presence in the house. He put his finger to Claudia’s lips as she spoke.
‘Get upstairs. I saw him go upstairs.’
‘The bloody place is on fire.’ A large boot scraped the metal hatch. Yellow light showed at the edges of the hatch. Smoke seeped into the cellar, and Ben fought the cough reflex. He dropped to the floor hoping for fresh air to breathe.
Timbers cracked and another explosion sounded from the front of the building. Glass smashed and the roar of the flames told of the devastation occurring to the building.
‘Nothing,’ a voice called. ‘But I’ve got most of the children out. John’s missus has gone back for the rest.’ The voice croaked against the smoke.
Boots scraped and the metal hatch sagged as the body moved toward the voice. ‘Let’s get out of here. John said he saw a truck up by the old Clackton’s property, by the forest. You get the jeep.’
‘You tink Clackton did this?’
‘No way. We know who did dis.’
Footsteps clattered on the metal as they left the building.
‘De bastards will pay for dis.’
Ben counted, listening to the building burning, before pushing the metal hatch upward. A chimney’s worth of smoke streamed into the cellar and he dropped down the steps, struggling to breathe or cough, and the hatch fell on his head.
‘Have you seen my son?’ Claudia said. She pulled at Ben’s trousers. ‘I had him back at the site, but they come at me with guns and dogs. I told him to run and keep running. Did you find him? Did he find the jeep?’
Ben inhaled and coughed. He bent over as the impulse to vomit took over his stomach. He pushed past Claudia. ‘Yes, but Winston has him.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because I took him from the Gypsy camp, but Winston took him from the Hangman pub.’
‘Shit,’ she said. ‘So my bloody father got his bloody way.’
Ben returned to the hatch, but pulled back from the heat. He wrapped his hands in his coat sleeves and pushed upward. Heat seared his face and smoke blinded his view. A wall of flame consumed the kitchen and threatened the utility room. He dropped the hatch.
‘Shit. We’re trapped.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Escape from Hell
Ben felt at the walls for a light switch, reeling back when his fingers touched slime. ‘Gross. These walls are bleeding. Is there a light?’
‘No, but we’ve got a lamp,’ Tommy said.
Ben fumbled with his lighter, struck the flint and smiled at Tommy as the flame highlighted his pale features. A black smudge colored his cheek and the treasured Stetson was gone.
Ben placed the lamp on a long table cluttered with tins and tools. A line of decapitated animals lined the far wall. A wooden hatch sat in the left hand
corner of the roof. Loubie rested against Tommy’s back, leaning as if he were a wall. Claudia sat on the stairs.
‘What’s happening out there?’ Claudia said.
‘The landlord at the Hangman called it Armageddon. He promised me fireworks and he wasn’t lying. I don’t know what they were firing from the woods, but it’s taken the side of the building out.’
‘So who’s coming to rescue us?’
‘That wasn’t part of the deal. You just got me.’
‘So they know we’re in the building?’
‘Well yeah, because we knew they were holding you in here.’
‘And they’re trying to blow it up?’
‘Collateral damage, eh.’ Ben pointed at Loubie. ‘What’s going on with her arm?’
‘She’s cut herself bad,’ Tommy replied. ‘I think she’s losing blood. She keeps blacking out and seems sort of vague.’
‘More than usual?’
Loubie laughed. ‘Always a comedian,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my arm.’
Ben pointed at the wooden hatch. ‘I’m assuming you’ve tried the outside hatch?’
‘Yeah it’s bolted or something. It doesn’t budge.’
Chinks of yellow light brightened above Ben’s head. The smoke thickened. Ben touched the metal and jerked his hand back. ‘It’s getting hot out there.’
‘Fire burns up right,’ Tommy said. ‘We’ve just got to stay down here, and we should be safe.’
‘Until what?’ Claudia said. ‘Until we die of smoke inhalation? Until the Smiths come back and shoot us for burning their damn house down? And what about my child?’
Loubie stumbled as Tommy moved and she fell against the dirt wall. Tommy grabbed her, cleared the table of clutter and sat her on the rough wood. Tommy rested her head against his chest while he sucked on his inhaler. Claudia clambered to the top of the stone steps and felt at the metal hatch. ‘It’s really hot, but we can’t stay here.’
‘Too bloody right,’ Ben said.
He had bad memories of burning buildings. Last Christmas the police had locked him in the Ostere jail, left him there while the Scarlet Scum set the station on fire. Ben had found fresh air on the floor, but the Smiths’ cellar was mucky with dirt and mud and all manner of unsavory crap.
Harry and Wolf Girl had broken him out before he charred, but the smoke in his lungs still haunted him. The green of the emergency lights as the power failed was a constant in his dreams.
‘Ben we need to get out of here. Loubie’s cut herself and its bleeding bad,’ Tommy said. ‘We need to get her some medical help.’
‘Too bad Pete stayed with Abe and the sheep, eh? What with him and his first aid badge, Loubie would have nothing to worry about.’
‘Pete’s nearby,’ Tommy said.
‘I hate that name,’ Loubie said. ‘For sure. I had a step dad with that name. What an arse.’
Loubie lifted her head, untied the ribbon holding her dreads in place and gave them a shake. She tied her hair and flopped against Tommy’s chest. A small rasping cough punctuated each breath.
Claudia gagged on a lungful of smoke. Tommy sucked harder on his inhaler.
‘Yeah, I left Pete in the last shed with his bloody sheep spread all over the hill. He’s in full medic mode with some bloke he wants us to rescue.’
Tommy rested Loubie’s head against the dirt wall and picked up a hammer. He banged on the outside hatch and called Pete’s name. Ben covered his hands with his coat and pushed at the hatch to the house. A wall of heat and smoke sucked into the cellar. He dropped the metal door and slid to the bottom of the stairs, his body bent in coughing convulsions.
Tommy stopped banging. ‘We need to get out.’
Ben couldn’t see Tommy, but laughed at his remark. A fuzzy glow from the lamp suggested his shadow stood at the far side of the room beneath the hatch.
No one spoke, but the coughing had increased. Tommy took another couple of hits at the hatch, but Loubie’s coughing drew him back to the table. Ben looked up at the hatch. The yellow outline of flame had disappeared. He climbed the stairs and felt at the metal grate. It was hot to touch, but not scalding.
‘Fuck it.’
Without warning the house above them exploded. The ferocity of the attack rattled the pots and tins on the table and debris rained from the two cellar doors. Claudia covered her head and Tommy grabbed Loubie, shielding her with his body.
‘Shit,’ Claudia said. ‘What was that?’
‘The bloody nutters from the Hangman,’ Ben said. ‘Offered to help, they did. We’ll distract them while you get your mates, eh? That’s what they said.’
‘We can’t stay here,’ Claudia said.
‘Yes, I get it.’
Ben paced the cellar. Claudia stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips, watching Ben, waiting for action. Smoke swirled in the room and Tommy had his inhaler to his mouth, sucking the arse out of the device.
‘We can’t stay here because I want to see my child again.’ She broke into a coughing fit, dropping to her knees in a search for air. Ben had lost sight of her until her hand clutched at his leg. ‘You’ve got to get us out of here.’
Ben reached down and patted her hand. ‘Fuck it, eh?’ he said. ‘I die up there, or I choke to death down here.’ He looked at the dark hatch. He assumed the flames to have lessened as there was no yellow about the cracks. ‘It’s only a couple of strides from the hatch to the back door,’ he said.
‘Easy. So go,’ Claudia urged.
Ben wrapped his coat tight around his hands and pulled his hood over his head. ‘Stand over by the hatch,’ he said. ‘I’m going to run for the back door, but I’m guessing a load of smoke is coming our way. I’ll slam the trap shut, but you need to start sucking at the air by the hatch. It’s got to be less smoky.’
He positioned himself on the last step, his shoulder against the hatch and rocking on his haunches. He counted aloud, and on Go he pushed the hatch up and sprung from the steps. The cellar sucked hard at a wall of flame and a wave of smoke rushed down the steps. His momentum took him into the kitchen, and he stumbled over fallen timber. He covered his head with the coat and crawled away from the fire with his mouth to the floor. He kept his breathing shallow and short. Objects, hot to touch and immovable cluttered his path. The heat seared his face and hands, his skin stinging with the burn. Walls impeded and his throat struggled to inhale the hot, smoke-rich air. He knew he’d lost direction, but he kept the glare and burn of the fire behind him. He stood and ran and bounced off a wall. Without waiting to land, he rolled and crawled, the yellow and roar of the flames behind him. Beams of wood, charred and painful to touch, barred his path.
He climbed and he fell. He kept his eyes scrunched shut, the glare of the fire bright when he turned in the wrong direction. He battered at a wall thinking it was a door, but he rolled and fumbled until he found a dark gap and fell forward.
Cold concrete met his face. He stood and tangled with the headless beast, his fingers gripping fur. The exit stood to his right. He dropped his head, with his arms tight to his forehead, and ran away from the smoky, orange glare. He broke through the back door into the chill night air, stumbled and landed amongst a jumble of rubble and charred timber. He kicked off from the ground, running with his eyes screwed shut. His lungs hurt, but he kept pumping his legs. Objects he could only guess at tripped and caught at his clothing, but he hit the dog cage, bounced against the wire and reeled left into the backyard. He collapsed on the wet grass, his body convulsing and retching. And he inhaled.
Ben squinted through tears, a bright wall of yellow and orange blinding his sight. He pushed backward, afraid of the back wall falling. He dodged to his left as a long piece of guttering fell to the ground. Timber followed, flames flaring with the rush of the wind. His hand pulled back from a smoldering, charred object. Gripping at his coat he pushed off from the ground and crawled further from the building.
The front of the house remained tall, but t
he back and sides fed the orange beast devouring the building. The buckled frames of the cot beds sat dead center with the cooker to the right, but nothing else survived.
The wooded slats to the cellar jumped as Tommy beat at the hatch. Ben crawled forward, still gulping shallow breaths, his stomach dry-retching with each movement. He pulled the crowbar free of the handles and sat back as the hatch swung upward and crashed to the ground. Smoke poured from the hole as Loubie appeared with Tommy pushing her upward. Tommy grabbed Claudia’s hand and helped her climb out of the cellar. He scrambled at the grass, kicking free of the cellar and collapsed to the wet ground. The four bodies rolled about the yard, coughing and hacking at the frigid night air.
The back wall crumbled. Flames leapt into the night, the light wind stoking the fire. The smell of burning rubber tainted the night. Ben smiled at the sight of the door he exited still standing, the wooden frame warped and charred. Amid the devastation, a man appeared. He walked out from the flames and smoke, his face smudged, his clothes smoking and burnt. His short squat figure tripped and fell, but he stood and stumbled forward again. Behind him, Ben noticed the truck from the woods speeding down the driveway. It turned left onto the road.
The man collapsed against the dog cage, inciting the dogs to a fever of noise. He took a crushed pack of cigarettes from his coat and patted at his pockets for a light. Ben rose and stepped forward, tired of running and confident the man didn’t carry a weapon or pose a threat. Wisps of smoke rose from his back and trousers. He rubbed a blackened hand over his face, the soot smearing his forehead.
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