by Sara Clancy
“No,” Jezebel found herself saying. “Look, we should stay in pairs. It’ll be quicker and there’s less chance anyone will get lost in the smoke. I’ll go with Anna. Henry, can you stick with Egil?”
Henry gave a reluctant, lopsided smile and nodded. “Okay. That sounds like a plan.”
Not a good plan, went unsaid but fully understood between them. Annabel gestured loosely to a few of the uninjured people that they had left. A cluster of them were huddled by the fire, muttering to each other in an effort to stay awake.
“I’ll ask them to keep an eye on the more seriously injured patients,” she said. “Ten-minute intervals should be fine. I don’t want to be gone for longer.”
Jezebel forced herself to smile. “Okay. Ten minutes of searching then we meet back here and decide what to do next. Everyone got it?”
With a loud, disgusted grunt, Egil pulled away from the group and threw the door open. Instantly, the rain and wind rushed into the room. The blonde didn’t pay it any attention. Jezebel couldn’t tell if it was anger or determination that coaxed Egil to walk out into the storm without his jacket. She snatched it off of the wall and forced Annabel to put it on before they hurried to catch up with him.
Their departure didn’t make much of an impact on the others. Few even bothered to lift their heads. Still, they tried to close the door behind them as quickly as possible. Once again, it was a two-person job to fight back the wind. Henry and Annabel were up to the task, while Jezebel and Egil lingered a few feet away, scanning the limited field of vision while they waited for their search buddies to catch up.
Although the smoke had been noticeable from inside the building, Jezebel had significantly underestimated just how much protection the walls had provided. Choking on every lungful, she pulled the edge of her shirt up to cover her nose and mouth. The material quickly soaked up the rain, making it hard to breathe. The air whipped across her exposed stomach like tiny hailstones. She couldn’t understand how such a strong, unrelenting wind was unable to disperse the smog. Her eyes watered, blurring her already limited vision. The glow of the bonfires pressed against the clogged air, creating hazy halos but offering little to see by. Buildings were little more than looming, one-dimensional shadows. No matter how loud the storm became, it couldn't completely cover the soft, sweet singing. The words remained unidentifiable. She didn't know why that bothered her so much, but it made her skin crawl.
“Henry,” Egil’s voice boomed over the roaring wind, commanding and sharp. “You’re with me. We’ll take the houses to the left. Girls, you go right. We’ll meet up on the opposite side of the town square.”
That primal instinct reared up again, ringing warning bells in the back of Jezebel’s mind. He’s not willing to follow a plan that’s not his own, she thought. And willing to repeat orders to make it seem like he got his way. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she couldn’t fault the addition to the plan. Half a loop and we can come back. With the rain striking her head like stones, it was an alluring prospect.
Before they could begin, however, the door wrenched open. People spilled out of the house. Jezebel couldn’t name them but recognized them instantly. They were the people by the fire. The ones that were put in charge of caring for the sick in Annabel’s absence. All four of them. The bells in her head rang louder as each one looked to Egil.
Since the sisters stood with their shoulders pressed firmly together, Jezebel was able, with a bit of effort, to read the small expressions that skipped across Annabel’s face. Mostly frustration and impatience. When Egil started to give the new additions their searching orders, Annabel balled her fists and stomped forward.
“I asked you to take care of the wounded.”
Even with the haze, it wasn’t hard to spot the anger that crossed Egil’s face at the interruption.
“Shouldn’t you stay with them, Anna?”
Hearing Rocca’s voice, realizing she was amongst those that had just dismissed Annabel so completely, set a flash of anger through Jezebel. But she held her tongue.
“If the child’s wounded, I should be there.”
Egil snorted.
Annabel ignored him and pressed her case. “We need to leave at least three people looking after the wounded.”
“You’ve only got three left that are wounded,” Egil snapped.
“Three left that still might die,” Annabel corrected. “And three walking wounded.”
“I think someone with a broken arm can take care of themselves,” one of the followers said.
“And clean up the shit?” Annabel challenged in a clipped tone. “Gather water? Keep the fires burning? Carry out the dead if it comes to it? Is the guy with the broken arm going to do that? Or does the heavy lifting fall to the woman with the shattered ribs?”
Before Egil could respond, Annabel continued.
“Do any of you understand how unsanitary it is in there? How quickly infections can take hold of someone with an open wound? How lethal they can be? It’s taken Jez, Henry, and myself just to tend to the basics and keep that place somewhat clean.”
“But you don’t need three,” Egil said.
“Henry. Jez. Me.” Annabel counted them off on her fingers. “That’s three. And even then, we needed you and Rocca to keep everyone else from completely falling apart. I’d like to come back to patients and not a riot.”
“It wouldn’t come to that,” Egil said through clenched teeth.
“Really?” Annabel gestured to the people gathered close to him. “Because they couldn’t be without you for five minutes. And they knew exactly what was happening!” Turning her attention onto the group, she added, “Did any of you geniuses even think to wake someone up before you left?”
Before anyone could reply, Henry’s low voice cut through the fog. “It’s going to be really easy to get lost in all this smoke.”
Jezebel was still contemplating why he had randomly started stating the obvious when Egil hummed thoughtfully.
“Right. The last thing we need is to be looking for everyone else.” He rose his voice to address the four people that had followed him. “We're not going to expand the search to the connecting streets until dawn. Keep to the town square. Use the bonfires as a focal point. Stay with a partner.”
After a bit of contemplation, he instructed someone named ‘Kera’ to go and wake up ‘Jim’. Jezebel didn’t recognize either name. For a blissful moment, she believed that this wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Annabel. That her head-strong little sister would give up on the idea of joining the search party and they could both stay inside.
That didn’t happen.
There was a brief comment that Jim should set the candles in the windows so the search party would know when they’ve completed a loop. And then all talk was over. There was nothing left to stay. No other reason that could keep them in the general safety of the doctor’s office. Annabel sensed her reluctance and wrapped her slender fingers around Jezebel’s palm, clutching tight as they set out.
Only a few fevered seconds had passed since they had first stepped outside, and she was already drenched to the bone. The miserable sensation of it worked with her dread to make the seconds drag. Gagging on smoke and twitching with harnessed anxiety, she longed to go back inside. She felt exposed. Like the smoke was filled with eyes. All of them watching her. Waiting. Helplessly, she looked to the window, to the sill she had been sitting at only a few moments ago. A candle appeared. Its glow was small and weak but still seemed to taunt her and her fears. If it weren’t for Annabel’s unwavering grip, she would have bolted for the door.
One small tug was all it took to get Jezebel to fall into step with her little sister. For some reason, she had thought that movement would have made her feel better. She was wrong. Every step made her stomach twist just a little tighter. And, while she knew there was nothing to see, she continued her constant vigil. Their shoulders pressed tight. Almost to the point of pain. Making it impossible for them to get separated. Since Jezebel wa
s the closest, it was her job to drag the fingers of her free hand along the wall, waiting for the rough sensation of stone to change into splintering wood.
Finding the window proved to be the easiest part. They had all the will to pry the wood away from the window frame, but none of the upper body strength necessary to complete the task. It took a mixture of sharp jerks coupled with harsh wiggling to work the bottom two planks free. That provided just enough room for them both to clumsily and somewhat painfully slide inside. Once within the protection of the thick walls, it was a bit easier to breathe. The upside of the bonfires being the only source of light was that it was easy to spot any openings big enough for someone to crawl through. Any crack or gap allowed was marked by the golden hue. All they needed to do was quickly scan the latticework of light and shadow to know that there wasn’t any other entry point. At least, nothing large enough to admit anything bigger than a rat. All the while, the singing was a low constant hum. It never grew louder or dipped lower. Neither distance nor obstruction had any effect on it. It always sounded exactly the same.
Quickly, they began to build up a routine. Break in, quickly scan the room for changes in the light, take a few moments to enjoy the cleaner air, and then move on to the next house. True to form, it didn’t take long for Annabel’s attention to narrow down onto the task at hand. All traces of fear had been smoothed away from her features. Her movements were direct and sure. Never faltering nor shaking. Nothing was done without purpose. If she actually did feel anything close to what was rampaging under Jezebel’s skin, she had shoved it all into a box in her mind. Perhaps she'd look at it later. Perhaps it would remain sealed until her dying day. Only time would tell.
Jezebel tried her best to emulate her sister but couldn’t ignore the alarm bells that were ringing in the back of her head. She bit her tongue until she tasted blood. It worked for a while. However, as they slithered into the fourth house, she couldn’t keep silent.
“Where is everyone?”
The outburst earned her an arched eyebrow but little else from Annabel. Water dripped from them to smack against the floorboards. Each impact resounded in the unnatural stillness.
“Look at this place,” Jezebel continued. Now that she’d started, she wasn’t going to stop until she had voiced it all. A part of her was desperate to have her sister join her in her paranoia. “The furniture. The decorations. The dust. No one has been here in years. Centuries, maybe.”
“It can’t be that long. Everything’s in too good of a condition.”
The Wilhelmina flashed across her mind’s eye. “It’s like this place is stuck in time.”
“It’s a ghost town,” Annabel replied hastily but not convincingly. “It happens.”
“What happens exactly? People coming all the way to abandoned towns to start bonfires. Then just change their minds and leave. Oh, but they lock the place up first. Because not boarding those massive castle doors would be irresponsible.”
Annabel stared at her for a long moment. “What do you want me to say?”
“That this is weird! That I’m not going slowly insane. That you’re scared, too.”
Like a placid lake made of flesh, Annabel met her gaze. “It is. You’re not. And I’m terrified. Do you feel better?”
“No,” Jezebel mumbled, managing to puff her cheeks out, a silly attempt to break the tension.
The corner of Annabel’s mouth quirked up. “Good. Suffer.”
Startled screams broke from both of them when the church bells began to toll. Slow, thunderous booms that violently shook the walls.
On the first strike, the bonfires flared with a hellish fury. The wind roared like a death rattle.
With a final, crackling gasp, the fires died.
Instantly, the darkness swarmed in and blotted out the world.
Chapter 5
Annabel’s lungs squeezed tight. Within a second, she was dizzy with panic and struggling to think of what to do next. It was barely a relief to learn that there was nothing wrong with her vision. That her previous head injury hadn't caused her brain to swell. It’s the bonfires. The realization didn’t settle the fear that rampaged through her veins. The contained infernos had survived the worst the weather could throw at it. Why would they go out now?
Desperate for answers, she snapped around to face the window. There wasn’t even a hint of smoldering embers. Unable to believe what she was seeing, she lunged forward. Before she could take a step, Jezebel latched onto her hand. How she had been able to spot her in the complete darkness baffled Annabel, but she didn’t have time to think about it. Jezebel yanked hard, dragging her back into the depths of the house.
The church bell gave one last tremendous strike, releasing a resounding toll that rang hollowly as it ebbed away. The following silence was deafening, amplifying even the faintest trace of sound, turning her heartbeat into a torrent surging through her ears. Even the wind had died. The rain had stopped, cut short as if it had never been there at all. Their heaving breaths stirred the thick air. Jezebel soon shook off her hesitation and began to pull at Annabel’s arm with more force. The wet soles of their shoes squelched against the floorboards as they shuffled. They had barely taken a few steps before a new sound shattered the stillness and brought them to a halt again.
A metallic thud. Heavy and sharp.
Standing utterly still, their throats swelled shut and their hands shaking, the sisters strained to hear whatever followed. An icy film chilled across the pit of Annabel’s stomach. With rising desperation, she willed to hear the crackle of the fires. A single howl of wind. A return of the pelting rain.
There was nothing.
A sudden, resounding crack made them both jump. Jezebel clamped her free hand over Annabel’s mouth, stifling her little sister’s scream before she knew it was coming out. Eyes wide, Annabel searched the room, refusing to admit that there was nothing to see. Not the faintest hint of light met her gaze. There wasn’t even enough to separate the shadows. No impressions of furniture layered against the walls. All that existed now was thick, impenetrable darkness. A slow, grinding sound inched into the stillness. Dragging out. Steady and unrelenting. Without having ever heard it before, she could instantly name the source.
Prying two of Jezebel’s fingers away from her mouth, Annabel whispered, “The gates are opening.”
The allure of finally having some kind of help made her surge forward again with a single-minded determination. She didn’t get an inch before Jezebel jerked her back. It was as if smacking into her sister jarred her brain, dislodging her thoughts from their set track and allowing the rest of reality to flood back in. A split second of confusion and she became aware of just how wrong this situation was. Of the unspoken promise of danger that curled around them and filled the silence. It was as if a dam had been burst inside of her, allowing pure, icy dread to flood her chest and rob her of her breath.
Jezebel’s hand fell away from her mouth. While she didn’t make a move to release her grip on Annabel’s hands, Annabel found herself tightening her fingers, clutching her sister with a childlike need. Reason hadn’t entirely fled from Annabel’s brain. It told her now that she was being silly. Logic and planning had always guided her in the past, and she clung to it now, wanting to shove aside the fear that was building inside her. We came to the town for help. This is our first chance and we’re missing it! The thought felt like coming up for air after drowning. Someone started those fires before the storm came. Of course they would come back. Maybe it’s just a local festival or something. It was clear, reasonable thinking. And she told herself that she believed the explanation. Still, she didn’t put up any resistance to Jezebel’s insistent pulls. Couldn’t mutter a word of protest between her shallow, rapid breaths.
It was clear to her now exactly how poor her situational awareness was. The house they were in was tall and narrow. A rectangular box with nothing to disrupt the line of sight. Still, she had completely failed to notice the staircase that was built along the le
ngth of the back wall. Jezebel found it easily and forced Annabel ahead of her. Unprepared for the steps, she tripped, falling hard onto her knees. The painful thud echoed in the silence and both girls froze. Waited. Nothing is out there, Annabel assured herself. The words were hollow and cold. Because she knew that there was. Every long-ignored instinct screamed and wailed within her skin, demanding to be heard.
Her senses dwindled away as the seconds slowed. There was nothing to see or hear. All mixed scent of smoke and mold that had followed them since they had arrived dissipated. It felt like her body was closing down.
“Go,” Jezebel breathed and, with a trembling hand, pushed at Annabel’s back again.
Slowly, cautious of every gasp and grunt of the chipped wood, she stood up and ascended the stairs. The steps bowed slightly under her feet. The ancient, rusted nails that held them in place strained and rattled. It was a whispered threat that they would fail. Images of the damage that could be done flashed across Annabel’s mind. Broken limbs and open wounds. None of it scared her as much as the thought that they were drawing attention. She would have rushed back down it if weren’t for Jezebel’s constant pushing against her spine.
There wasn’t a railing. Something she learned after grasping for it and finding empty air. Momentum almost took her over the edge. Clenching her teeth against a startled cry, she staggered back, pressing her side against the wall as she hurried the rest of the way. Instead of a landing, the staircase led straight to a narrow hole cut roughly into the roof. The ravages of time had attacked the last few steps more than the others. They rumbled with the sharp, splintering sound. Dust spilled down upon her. The vibrations cracked what little plaster remained on the walls.