by Sara Clancy
“Back away from the door. Now!”
The light danced. Did they listen? Clutching tight to the handle of the bucket, she lunged the last few steps, coming up beside Henry. He shifted, offering her just enough space for her to glimpse outside. The group was small. Logically, she knew that. But the sight of them all clustered close, driven mad by fear and paranoia, carrying torches with murderous intent in their eyes, made them seem like thousands.
“Are you insane?” Annabel screamed down to the gathered crowd. “You’re going to kill us!”
“We can’t risk infection!”
She couldn’t pinpoint who spoke, but the voice wasn’t recognizable. Not Rocca or Egil. Where are they?
“They were trying to sneak out!” someone else shrieked. “They could kill us all!”
“We don’t even know they have it!” Annabel’s words were ignored entirely but the group didn’t become silent.
They called for blood. Shout and raged for death. All in the guise of self-preservation. She sucked in a deep breath, but Henry’s hand on her forearm stopped her.
“They’re not going to listen,” he said.
She couldn’t take her eyes off of the mob. A woman she couldn’t name paced back and forth between the building and the crowd. Annabel couldn’t understand what she was saying. She didn’t need the words. The sharp edge of her tone and the way she kept gesturing to the children within the group said enough. She’s using the kids as an excuse to kill us.
“This is insanity,” she whispered.
“It’s fear,” Henry replied. His eyes skirted towards her. “We’re the only thing that they know they can fight.”
“It won’t solve anything.”
Her comment deformed into a broken hiss as the mob closed in. At first, the rain-soaked building refused to catch alight. It was a losing battle, and with cracks and sputters, the shielding awnings began to light. Henry muttered something under his breath. His fingers trembled as he clutched the side of the bowl. Steam rolled up from the water within it. He swallowed hard, steadied his hands, and dumped the contents out of the window.
Shrieks exploded as the boiling water rained down upon the others. Henry whipped around and pressed his back against the crumbling wall. The trembling had returned, harder than before, and he buckled forward under the weight of it. The bucket slipped out of his fingers. It rattled across the floor as he cupped his ears, desperately trying to block out the sound of the agonized screams he had created.
“Jez!” Egil’s voice boomed over the cries.
His eyes closed and a relieved breath brought him to his knees. He’s hoping Egil will stop all of this, Annabel realized. She tried to find that same hope but only felt cold.
“Everyone, stop this!” Egil continued. “Jez! Get out here! I know this was you!”
Henry turned to Annabel. She could only shrug. What response is he looking for? In unison, they both gathered themselves, trying to create a somewhat calm appearance.
“Actually,” Henry called out, obviously trying to buy himself a bit more time to school his features. “That was me!”
Annabel saw the quiver of his jaw and rushed to add, “And we have more! Keep your people away from us!”
“You want to be a doctor and pour boiling water on defenseless people?” Egil replied.
“You guys just tried to burn down a hospital!” She whipped around to glare at him through the open window. “You were going to burn us alive! I could poison a town’s water supply and still have the moral high ground here!”
Egil stood a few feet behind the group. Only a few turned to look at him. The positioning left a bad taste in the back of Annabel’s mouth. Is he still in control?
“You couldn’t keep them inside. We can’t just let you infect us all!”
Annabel forced her battered fingers tighter around the handle of the bucket. Her swelled skin shifted with the pressure. Each heartbeat collided against her ribcage and her blood rushed like a raging torrent, leaving her lightheaded and weak. If they come, throw the bucket. Her mind raged against the thought. The possibility of inflicting that kind of pain upon another living person. For the sick, she told herself. It’s our death or a little pain. Again, her mind fought back the idea, challenging the notion of a ‘little pain’ by drawing attention to her own hands. Do it for Jezebel. Annabel’s rapid breathing slowed. Her shaking body became as still and cold as stone. For Jez. I can do this for her. I will.
Then the church bells started to ring.
Chapter 10
“It’s too soon.” Jezebel said the words aloud as if it would somehow force reality to fall in line.
The dull, resounding tolls remained, unaffected by any other sound. Everyone was silent. Frozen in time. They flinched at each strike of the bell. The flames spurred in an unfelt breeze, spitting out embers like a warning. The metal latches that held the gates in place creaked and groaned.
Suddenly, everything was movement and terror. The people that had been trying to light them on fire now pounded against the door, desperately begging for entry. Others sprinted for shelter, disappearing into the fog. Kassidy and Auto were already trying to barricade the door, although Jezebel couldn’t decide which of the threats they were trying to keep out. Finding the door now locked to them, the screams rose, shrill and frenzied. The sound cut right to Jezebel’s core and she moved without thought. Prying the door open, she leaned her torso out and tried to gain the attention of the people.
The fires spit and howled. Light rapidly dwindled. Hands grabbed her bare flesh. Some from within, some from outside. Chaos and hysteria turned reality into split seconds of time, each standing independent of the other, a dozen things existing at once. Someone was using her as a ladder, clawing at her in a desperate attempt to get inside before the last of the embers died. At the same time, someone inside roughly shoved and yanked her around, using her as a human blockade to keep the others from entering. Crushed between the warring forces, Jezebel grappled for balance. A last painful shove flung her sprawling into the mud. Feet trampled by her, barely more than shadows in the last rays of light. The rain had stopped by the time she crawled up onto her feet. An icy breeze swept through the town, curling the fog and killing the once blazing bonfires. The last thing Jezebel saw was the wooden planks lock into place across the window.
“Let me in!” She burst forward and tore blindly at the slates. “Anna!”
“Jez?” The response came from an upstairs window.
It was filled with more confusion than fear. In a second, Annabel figured out what had happened and desperately called for Henry. Jezebel peered into the darkness, trying to catch sight of them in the upper window. There was nothing. Only familiar voices that sounded louder as all the others fell silent.
“Henry, Jezebel’s outside,” Annabel rushed. “Can you reach her? Your arms are longer.”
Terror kept Jezebel from finding amusement in that thought. While the medieval homes were squat, short structures, the idea that they would be able to reach her was ridiculous.
“Can you climb up here?” Annabel asked. “No one’s up here with us. We can pull you through the top window.”
Jezebel searched the side of the building for a hand hold. Maybe the doorframe, she thought. Or there might be a crack in the stone. Something deep enough to give me a boost. Her hands found nothing. Get up! Get up! There has to be something!
“Jez?” Annabel whimpered like a frightened child. “I’ll go downstairs. I’ll force them to open the door.”
“They just tried to kill us,” Jezebel said. She rushed on before her little sister could respond, “I’m going to find a hiding place. Stay here. Do not open that door. I’ll come back.”
“No,” Annabel spoke the word like a child, petulant and dripping with unshackled terror.
There was a rush of movement from somewhere above. Whispered words and creaking floorboards. Jezebel stretched her neck to search the darkness above her but could only make out shadows. She
clenched her teeth and drew on the tone of voice that all protective older siblings eventually mastered.
“Anna. Stay here. Hide. I’ll be–”
A low rumble cut Jezebel’s sentence with surgical precision. Like before, the unfamiliar sound was instantly recognized by every soul within the town. The gates are opening.
Pinpoints of hovering light flickered to life within the depths of the darkness, the tiny orbs smeared by the thick mixture of smoke and fog. Growing bright. Swelling. No, Jezebel thought. Just coming closer. Her mind screamed at her to find somewhere to hide but fear kept her feet rooted in place. Smoke, ash, and the last gasps of rain swirled around her. A constant reminder that she was out in the open. A pained thud made her whip around. She barely managed to smother a shriek as a hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed her arm.
“Come on,” Henry whispered as he tugged on her.
Whether it was the words or motion, she wasn’t sure, but Jezebel found herself snapped out of her terrified stupor. Each latched onto the other, sprinting off into the darkness, fleeing the arrival of the Plague Doctors and the approaching light. Henry, possessing a far longer reach than Jezebel, was able to keep her away from the buildings and following the walls at the same time. The thick layer of mud gave way to broken stone under her bare feet, both still slick and threatening to bring her to the ground. It was impossible to run for long. The heavy smoke choked their lungs and burned their eyes. Henry turned sharply, dragging Jezebel along behind him. Left. Right. Back and forth until she lost all concept of where they could be.
They had long since left the light behind. The air hadn’t thinned enough to allow the moonlight in. There was only darkness. Oppressive and cold. The first touch of stone against her shoulder almost made her scream. She jerked away, those few steps smacking her back into another wall. An alleyway? Henry forced her on by his grip on her wrist. As she moved, she waved her free arm from side to side, trying to gauge how much space she had to move. Her fingertips grazed buildings on either side.
I hadn’t actually seen him. The thought lodged in her brain like a burning spike. What if it’s one of the doctors? What if it’s a trick? All that came from her mouth was a weak call of his name.
“Egil and I went down this way last night,” Henry whispered.
The walls fell away and the pattering of their feet became loud thumps against cobblestone. Henry paused and Jezebel was grateful. Her lungs were screaming for oxygen but unwilling to draw the filthy air into her lungs.
“Where now?” she asked.
“Over here.” His voice had lost some of its confidence, but his grip was firm.
They hurried across the way and ran straight into something solid and unyielding. It hit her around the hips, forcing her to double over. She shot her free hand out to break her fall. Her palm found only open air, and with a sudden jerk, she was wrenched back before she could fall. Henry pulled her in a curved line before coaxing her to sit. The object she had just run into was still there for her to lean against. A low wall to protect them from the eye line of any followers. She groped at it as she panted, trying to sum up its dimensions.
“Is this a well?” She was careful to keep her voice low, worrying only after she spoke that he wouldn’t hear her.
“I found it last night,” came the reply. “It saved me.”
Her brow furrowed. “They’re afraid of water?”
A breathless gasp of laughter slipped from his throat. “What? No. But I think the red ones are blind.”
“The red ones?”
“You didn’t see them?” He paused only long enough to swallow before continuing. “They came with the doctors. These figures, they were wearing red, hooded cloaks. They were the ones that came inside. The ones that followed me.”
His voice failed him, and pressed tight against his side, Jezebel felt him shudder.
“They’re blind?” she asked.
“One of them followed me,” his voice broke a little but he forced himself to go on. “I saw it in the light of the doctor’s lanterns. It moved ... funny. Groping and stumbling but always following. It knew I was there. It just couldn’t find me.” He fell silent for a long moment before sucking in a broken breath. When he spoke, it was with a fake sense of conviction. “We keep moving, we’ll be fine.”
They settled into silence, each trying to ready themselves for another sprint. The hours were starting to wear her down. Every muscle screamed in protest of strenuous, constant use. Her stomach rumbled, her throat burned, and she felt lightheaded even as her skull threatened to crack under the pressure that had wrapped around her head.
“Why are you doing this?”
She didn’t know why she asked the question. It didn’t seem all that important right now.
“It seemed like the smarter option,” he said.
Jezebel wished for a little bit of light so he could properly witness the look she was giving him. “How?”
“Anna was about to jump out,” he said. “I don’t know how to take care of sick people.”
“Is that why you keep helping us? Protect the doctor?”
The question seemed to catch him off guard. “What? No. Not really. We’re in trouble. We have to help each other.”
“And you don’t like Egil.”
“I don’t know him enough to not like him,” he corrected. “But I like you guys. And Anna let me be useful. I think I would have gone mad if I had to just sit there and watch all of this.”
Jezebel smiled weakly. “I know the feeling.”
A soft glow cut through the darkness. The walls of the well served as their shield. It kept them shrouded in a pit of darkness as the light crept around the edges. They drew closer to each other. Shrunk from the weak beams. Bit their lips in a desperate bid to keep silent. Footsteps struck the stones. Each one louder than the last. Vibrating through the ground.
Jezebel found herself thanking everything she could that she had been forced to strip off her shoes and dress. She didn’t have any soles to squeak against the stones as she shifted into a crouch. No rustle of fabric as she moved. It was harder for Henry to fold his long, gangly frame into the restricting shadows. The light brightened until it appeared as candle light. The line between it and the shadows was as thin as a scalpel cut.
Heart hammering and bracing herself against the side of the well, Jezebel leaned to the side, desperate for a glimpse of what was coming. Of the creatures she had only seen as shadows. The fog rolled over the stones, glowing in the soft haze of lanterns passing by the mouth of the narrow alleyway. A small raspy squeal broke the silence as a dark figure crept through the visible patch of air. It took her a moment to realize that it was the creature’s nails. Coming down the alley with its arms outstretched, it dragged its nails along the stone walls, creating the ghastly noise. Jezebel didn’t dare push herself up any higher but squinted, hoping to get one good glimpse through the smoke.
Cold sweat gathered on the back of her neck as the figure took shape. Tall. Deathly thin. Draped in a long robe that rippled as it moved. The darkness couldn’t touch the rich crimson of the cloth. Even while everything else faded into shades of black, even when she couldn’t see any of it clearly, Jezebel knew that it was red. The same color as the petals.
Slender hands reached out before it and spread wide. It found either side of the alley opening. One digit at a time, it curled its hands around the stone’s edges. From this distance, she couldn’t completely see them. Yet she knew. As if the image had been burned into the back of her eyes. Skeletal thin. Skin rotten and brittle. Exposing every bone, joint, and tendon. The fog parted slightly, allowing her a quick glimpse of the creature’s hands. Dead skin flaked from its palms and joined the hovering ash as it pushed forward. Every few steps, it would swing its head from one side to the other. Searching. Seeing nothing. The thick, hanging hood kept its face completely hidden.
Half-gliding, half-lumbering, it came closer. Watching it move made Jezebel’s stomach cramp painfully.
A cold breeze slipped down her spine, bringing with it the almost uncontrollable need to cry. Its steps were louder than its frail body had any right to create. Gradually, it crossed the open area, circling around towards Henry’s side of the well. He sunk back, careful not to make any noise that might draw the hooded figure. Jezebel tried to give him enough space to move but was quickly approaching the rim of the light. The thought of entering it made her limbs shake and her breathing kick up into a hurried pant.
Glancing between hooded specter, the ring of light, and the opening of the alleyway made her dizzy. Her skin prickled. Every hair rose up. It had become a certainty in her mind that she was going to be attacked. The only question was from where the strike would come. The figure was at the side of the well now. It reached a hand down to place it upon the rim. A clicking sound accompanied its every movement. Like bare bone striking stone. Jezebel bit down on her tongue. Blood smeared across her taste buds. Bitter with a metallic edge. The pain and taste of blood kept her from screaming. Kept her mind present and her senses heightened. The crimson figure loomed above them, only inches away, head still turning from side to side as if searching the horizon.
Tearing her eyes from the specter came with a physical pain. But the hypersensitive need was there, the pull, the drive to check behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Her heart seized. What had been nothing but a bottomless abyss only a second before was now broken by the blooming, spreading pinpoints of light. There were a half a dozen other alleyways and they were all now filled with approaching crimson figures.
She placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder, not brave enough to tap in case it created a sound. He swept an arm back. At first, she thought he was brushing her off. Then it clicked. The crimson figure was only about a foot away now and it was coming closer. He needed more room to retreat. She squeezed her fingers and he glanced back. The additional lights washed the open area with an orange glow. Weak, but still enough to glisten off the lenses of his glasses. His hand came back and latched onto her. The wild thought to run passed unspoken between the two of them. Almost to mock their slither of hope, the bellowing smoke curled away like crashing waves to expose a half dozen deep shadows. Lumbering but graceful. Tall and deathly thin.