by Amy Cross
“This way!” she shouted, trying to grab his hand before pulling back as she felt her palm burning. She tried again and again, but each time the pain was too great. Looking at the skin on the palm of her own hand, she saw it was already blistered.
Nearby, Matthew was shouting something at her, but she couldn't hear him over the roar of the fire.
Trying to crawl toward her, the pilot tilted his head. For a moment, the flames seemed to clear slightly and his melted face was briefly visible. Most of the skin on one side had been completely burned away, revealing fragments of muscle still clinging to his skull, while a few sections of hair were still visible. He stared straight at Wendy for a few seconds, and finally his mouth began to open, as if he was going to say something. For a moment, a faint orange flame seemed to burst from his face and rush toward her.
She waited, unable to take her eyes off the horrific sight.
“You're a hero,” she whispered. “You are!”
Slowly, the pilot leaned down toward the ground, as if he was going to sleep. He rested his burning head on the elbow of his right arm, and then he shifted his position a little, almost as if he was trying to get comfortable. After that he didn't move again.
“Come on!” Wendy said to him, trying to make herself heard over the roar of the flames. “You have to get away from the -”
Before she could finish, she heard a loud creaking sound above. When she looked up, she realized that the burning plane was in danger of tipping over right on top of her. She turned back to the pilot and saw that his skull was bare now, and she watched for a moment as the flames ate away at his remaining skin and hair. Unable to stop staring at him, she barely even noticed the pain on her own face and hands, until suddenly she felt someone pulling her back.
“Wendy!” Matthew shouted, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her away from the wreck. “What are you doing? Do you want to go up with it?”
“He's dead,” she whispered, not even struggling anymore as she was pulled well clear of the flames. Only now did she really notice the pain in her own body, and when she looked down at her hands she realized that they were burned red raw. There was pain on her face, too, spreading from her cheeks up past her eyes and onto her forehead and scalp.
“Get a doctor!” Matthew screamed, with a look of horror in his eyes as he stared at her. “Someone get a doctor!”
“What's wrong?” Wendy asked, starting to panic. “Why are you staring at me like that?” She reached up to touch her face, but the pain was too strong as she felt tattered pieces of flesh hanging either from her cheeks or her hands. It was as if her entire face was starting to disintegrate. All around, silhouettes of adults were gathering, looking down at her as flames continued to roar from the burning plane. “Matthew, what's wrong? What's happening to me?”
Chapter Three
Today
“So these monitors cover the whole site?” Alice asked, as she stared at the six old-fashioned TVs that were stacked at one end of the porta-cabin, showing flickery, grainy black-and-white images of various corridors and balconies surrounding the shopping center's atrium. Every few minutes, one of the images switched to another view.
“More or less,” Donald replied as he stirred two cups of tea. “There are a few blind spots, but nothing significant. Insurance, again. Gotta keep the place covered while they wait to knock it down.”
She turned to him. “They're going to knock it down?”
“Haven't you been reading the local papers over the past year?”
She shook her head.
“Tut tut,” he added with a grin. “That's not very civic-minded of you, is it?”
“Why are they going to knock it down?” she asked.
“Looks like it's finally gonna get turned into flats,” he continued, setting a cup in front of her before making his way around the desk and sitting in his swivel chair. He turned a little way in one direction, and then the other, as if he was checking to make sure the chair still worked. “What did the ad in the paper say? That's right, eighty-six luxury flats to be built within the next five years, right here on the site of Barton's Cross. Eight-six, eh? How do you cram eighty-six luxury anythings into a plot this size? And who needs luxury flats, anyway? It's normal, basic houses this area needs, for ordinary working folk. Damn shame, if you ask me. A place like this is a historic monument, it should be kept as a museum or something like that.”
“A museum of what?” she asked.
“Well...” He paused. “Shopping, I suppose. It's a site of historical interest, isn't it? One of Britain's most important shopping malls.”
She paused, trying to work out exactly what he meant, before looking back at the flickering monitors. “I guess.”
“So what were you really in hospital for?” he asked suddenly. “I know you don't have to tell me, but the thing is, my boss went a bit back and forth when it came to hiring you. I kind of got the impression that he wasn't sure about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a prejudiced man in any way, but as I was telling my wife Anne last night, I do like to know who I'm working with.” He paused. “You're here on a community placement scheme, aren't you? One of those ones where the health authority pays part of your salary?”
She turned back to him.
“It's alright,” he continued, “I get it, community placement schemes are for people who've been out of the community and need a bit of help getting back in. The thing is, they're not normally used for people who've been in hospital, they're more for people who've been in...” He paused, as if he was worried about finishing the sentence. “Well, people who've been in prison or some other kind of forced situation.”
“I haven't been in prison,” she said quickly.
“Okay,” he replied, holding his hands up, “that's fine. I believe you.”
“I was in hospital.”
He grabbed his cup and took a sip. “Obviously I'm not a nosy man and you've got no obligation to tell me, but if we're gonna be working together every night I figure I might as well get to know you a little better. That's how it goes, isn't it, as strangers start to become pals? You exchange stories, talk about your life, just generally chat about things.” Another pause, as if he was waiting for her to suddenly, miraculously open up and tell him her entire life story. “Like I said, I'm not nosy, but I can't help noticing you've got a few scars there.”
“I..” She swallowed hard. “I had an accident.”
“Just the one?” He paused. “Must have been quite big.”
“It's complicated.”
“Of course. You don't want to talk about it, I understand entirely. The last thing I want to do is press you on it.”
“I was...” She paused. “I was told I wouldn't have to discuss it. I was told I was just going to start working, and that everything would get sorted out.”
“Sure, sure,” he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on her. “Like I said, I'm not nosy, and you're totally entitled to keep that barrier between us if that's your wish.” He paused again. “I was in a car crash once,” he added finally. “Not a big one, but enough to give me a scare. Not nice, not nice at all. Was it a car crash you were in?”
She stared at him for a moment, before shaking her head.
“Did you get attacked?”
She shook her head again.
A faint smile crossed his lips. “If I guess right, will you tell me?”
She watched him carefully. “I'd rather not talk about it.”
“Well...” Sighing, he took a sip of tea. “That's your prerogative, of course. Creates a bit of a wall between us, but if that's how you want things, I most certainly don't intend to push you.” Another sip. “As long as you're not a danger or anything like that.” He waited for a reply. “Then again, they wouldn't put you in a position like this if you were a danger, would they?”
She paused, before turning to look at the monitors again. “I suppose not. I'm not a danger.”
“Which is a bit of a relief,” he continu
ed. “I mean, I'm all for people getting second chances, but you need to balance that with the best interests of the community at large.” He paused, watching the side of her face and, after a moment, spotting another scar on her neck. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but he quickly thought better of it and took a sip of tea instead. “Like I said,” he added finally, “I'm not a nosy man -”
“I saw something,” she said suddenly, pointing at the monitor on the top right shelf.
“Like what?” he asked.
“Just a flicker,” she replied, turning to him, “but I definitely saw something move. Like a shadow, maybe, going from right to left across the floor.”
“A shadow of what?”
“I don't know.”
He paused. “Probably a leaf.”
“It wasn't a leaf.”
“Mouse, then.”
She shook her head.
“You need to be a bit more specific, love,” he continued, with a faint, condescending smile. “If you saw it, you should be able to describe it, otherwise you didn't really see it, did you?”
She swallowed hard. “It was bigger than a badger.”
“Probably just a trick of the light, then,” he replied. “You're jumpy, it's your first night -”
“It wasn't a trick of the light.”
He sighed. “I'm not doubting you, but -”
“Should we go and check it out?”
“The odds of someone breaking in on your very first night -”
“Rewind it and you'll see.”
He sighed again. “I can't rewind anything,” he told her. “The cameras aren't recording, they're just for our benefit, so we can see what's going on out there, in real time. No-one's willing to pay to let the damn things record all that footage, we have to press a button if we want to get it on tape. And yes, we still use tape, that's how wonderfully advanced the technology is around here.” Pausing, he watched her for a moment. “Alright, then,” he said finally. “You think you saw something? Go take a look.” Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a flashlight and rolled it toward her. “I think we'll hold back on the taser for now, you need more training on that, but go see what you can find. That monitor you pointed at is on the third floor.”
“Aren't you coming with me?”
“Standard procedure is for one security operative to man the desk while the other goes to check out initial reports of a possible breach,” he replied, clearly quoting one of the training manuals word-for-word. “You've got a radio with you. If you need back-up, you can call in for it.” He paused again. “It'll be good for you. Go out there and get a feel for the place, and don't worry if you feel a little spooked on your first night, that's only natural. I've got to admit, even I sometimes find it a bit weird here. There's just something not right about a shopping center with all its lights off. If you ask me, it's a tragedy what they've done with this place. It's like walking around inside a dead whale.”
Picking up the flashlight, she turned to look back at the monitor. “I know I saw something,” she muttered. “I didn't imagine it.”
Chapter Four
1941
“What happened to her?” a voice shouted nearby, as several brights lights flooded into Wendy's field of vision. “Was she in one of the houses?”
“She was in the street,” another voice replied. Male this time, with a hint of authority. “Her name's Wendy, she's nine years old. Apparently she got too close to the crashed plane. Looks like she only suffered superficial burns to the face, neck and hands, but we still need to take care.” A pause, before the figure leaned closer, still too blurry for her to make out. “Wendy, can you hear me? Wendy, my name is Doctor Aldringham and I'm going to take care of you. You're going to be absolutely fine, do you understand? You just need to be a brave little girl for me.”
Staring up at him, Wendy squinted as she tried to get the man's face in focus, but the light behind him was too bright.
“That seems like some kind of response,” the doctor continued. “Get something on these wounds and make sure she's monitored carefully. The only real danger here is infection. I need to get to the people from the houses, some of them are injured far more seriously. I don't think too many of them are going to make it.”
“The pilot,” Wendy whispered, as she felt a throbbing pain running across her face.
“What was that, dear?” a female voice asked.
“The pilot,” she whispered again. “What happened to the pilot?”
“Never you mind about that now,” the female voice continued. “We're going to give you something for the pain, and it'll maybe knock you out a little too.” There was a pause, and Wendy heard the woman doing something on a table nearby. “Silly girl,” the woman added after a moment. “Whatever were you doing out so late? Your mother's going to be very cross when she finds out.”
Closing her eyes, Wendy tried to focus on her own thoughts, even as she felt them drifting away. A moment later, a sharp pinprick of pain hit her right arm and she realized she was being injected with something. She tried to open her eyes, but although she could see light filling her eyelids with a red haze, she didn't have the strength to do anything except wince as she felt a second injection, and then a third. Taking a deep breath, she told herself she could open her eyes if she just took a moment to gather all her strength, and finally – as she heard more voices swimming all around her head – she decided to count to three and then try again.
One.
Two.
She paused. Everything went black for a moment, and she felt her whole body become lighter.
Three.
Sitting up suddenly, she opened her eyes and found that she was now in a large, dark room, with a patch of moonlight falling through the nearby window, casting shadows on a brick wall opposite. Looking around, she saw to her surprise that she was on an old metal bed, and that there were other such beds nearby, as if she was in some kind of dormitory. As soon as she turned to look to one side, she felt a sharp, sore pain running across her chest and up to her face, and she realized she must have passed out at some point and been brought to the dormitory to recover.
She waited.
Silence.
A moment later, over on the next bed, someone shifted under the covers.
“Hello?” Wendy whispered. Her lips were dry and cracked, and she felt fresh skin tearing a little at the edges. In fact, as each second passed, the nerves in her body seemed to be waking more and more, bringing fresh appreciation of the pain she was feeling and of the injuries she'd suffered. She looked around, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she realized there were lots of other beds in the dormitory, each with someone under the sheets, and she began to make out the sound of lots of people breathing, some of them even snoring.
She paused.
In the distance, she could hear a faint engine noise. Planes, most likely, passing over the city either on their way to bomb the Germans or on their way back.
Like the plane that crashed.
For a moment, her mind's eye saw the burning plane again, its flames filling the night sky, and she remembered the dancing orange glow that had seemed to rush out of the inferno. The image quickly faded, however, and she found herself in the dark dormitory again.
Slowly, and with a little pain, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and took a moment to catch her breath before getting to her feet. She felt stiff and sore, but she was determined to find out where she was and to get home as soon as possible, back to her mother, who she figured must be very worried about her by now. Limping heavily on her right leg, she made her way past the next bed and into the aisle that ran along the center of the room, and finally she began to slowly, carefully head toward the door at the far end, under which a sliver of light could be seen. As she got closer, she sped up a little, despite the pain.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“And where do you think you're going?” a woman asked, her voice filled with a sof
t Irish lilt.
Spinning round, Wendy looked up and saw a friendly face smiling at her, framed by a nun's habit.
“You should be in bed,” the nun told her. “There's absolutely no reason for a lovely little lady such as yourself to be up and about at this hour. It's barely even three in the morning.”
“Where's my mother?” Wendy asked.
“Your -” The nun paused, with a hint of concern in her eyes. “It's Wendy, isn't it? Well, Wendy, you'll be seeing Mother Superior in the morning, and until then you have to stay in bed and get some rest.”
“Where's my mother?” Wendy asked again. “She wasn't home when the plane hit, she was at the hospital, so where is she now? I want to see her!”
“I...” The nun paused. “I can't tell you that, sweetheart. It's not my place.”
“Why not?”
“I just can't. Mother Superior -”
“Why can't you tell me now?” Wendy asked, trying not to panic. She'd never spent a night away from home, not ever in her whole life.
“Sshh,” the nun replied, putting a finger to her lips, “if you don't keep your voice down, you'll wake all the other little girls, and you don't want to do that, do you?”
“Where is she?” Wendy whispered, with tears in her eyes. The tears stung her sore skin, but she couldn't hold them back. “Why am I here?”
“My name is Sister Julia,” the nun replied, reaching down and taking Wendy's hand in hers, “and I'm just the orderly for tonight. Mother Superior will talk to your properly in the morning. That's her job, you know, and she's very good at it. It's best that you hear -” She paused, as if she'd caught herself just in time. “Well, she'll explain everything. She's very good at explaining, and at making people feel better.”
“I want to go home.”
“Of course you do.”
“Right now!”
“Why don't you get back into bed and try to sleep?” Sister Julia asked, trying to lead her back along the aisle but not managing to get her to move at all. “I know you must have a lot of questions, Wendy, but I'm not in a position to answer any of them for you. Mother Superior will talk to you in the morning and -”