Star Drawn Saga (Book 2): Lost Among The Dead (39 page)

Finding nothing really of use apart from a smaller version of one of the hooks she already had, Fran moved onto the next drawer down.

‘Ah,’ she exclaimed, finding a child’s pale blue plastic lunch box inside, the cartoon white haired girl stood beside a smiling snowman nothing more than a distant memory to her.

Plucking it from the drawer, Fran was pleased to hear the reassuring rattle of something sliding back and forth inside it.

‘Oh… damn,’ she sighed, opening the box to find only a unlabelled glass bottle containing a clear liquid and an old disposable lighter. ‘Now what?’ she muttered, crossly tossing the lighter back into the lunchbox.

As the lighter bounced off the plastic rim and clattered to the soot covered floor by her feet, Fran glared at it angrily.

‘Why couldn’t you be a knife,’ she mumbled, wearily bending down to retrieve it.

Wondering what she should do now, Fran’s thumb idly brushed against the lighter’s flint wheel, sparking a small flame briefly into life.

‘Idiot!’ she suddenly berated, a bitter smile twitching at her lips as the small blue flame suddenly popped out of existence again. ‘I’m in a smokehouse…’ she continued, reaching for the bottle she had found in the lunch box, ‘and what do you expect to find in a box with a lighter…’ she said, pausing as her fingers fumbled to unscrew its cap. ‘Yes!’ she exclaimed triumphantly, the sharp smell of white spirit hitting her nostrils. ‘A way out!’

Knowing if ever a desperate time called for desperate measures, that this was it, Fran began to flick the meagre contents of the bottle across the wooden door blocking her escape.

‘Right, here goes nothing,’ she mumbled, thumbing the lighter as she held it gingerly against the spirit-splashed wood.

No sooner had her thumb started to turn the small flint wheel, than with a single spark a wave of blue light leapt across the surface of the door, instantly igniting the alcohol with a soft ‘whoop’.

‘
Come on… burn… burn…
’ she willed, watching as the blue flame suddenly flared in places, changing to the welcome flicker of gold; telling her the fire now consumed the wood beneath.

Standing there for a few minutes, the heat from the spreading fire already pricking at her skin, Fran briefly wondered if she’d just made a terrible mistake.

‘Too late now,’ she coughed, backing away as the flames grew in intensity, already licking at the top of the door frame; the smoke boiling and rolling up towards the ceiling. ‘Yep… way too late,’ she repeated, grabbing the folded tarpaulin as she backed further into the room.

Dropping to a crouch by one of the old blackened shopping trollies, Fran quickly unfolded the tarpaulin and placed it over her head; all the while watching the worrying progress of the rapidly growing blaze.

‘
Shit, what have I done?
’ she thought, coughing as acrid smoke began to spread across the ceiling and drop down to fill the room; forcing her to duck even closer to the floor in the hope of finding clearer air.

But this was a waiting game and she knew it; a game of ‘chicken’ with her life as the prize. Fran knew she had to hold her nerve; too soon and it would have all been for nothing, too late and at best she would simply suffocate from smoke inhalation.

‘
Not yet… not yet…
’ she told herself, coughing as she peeked out from under the tarpaulin at the raging fire that now engulfed the door and ceiling, the noise of the blaze startlingly loud. ‘
Wait… just a bit longer… not yet… not yet…just a bit more… just…
’

And then before she was aware of her own actions, something snapped in Fran’s mind, something instinctive, wild and primeval; and with it she found herself moving. Jumping to her feet, she grabbed hold of the trolley handle and with a tug on the tarpaulin so that it covered her completely she charged as fast as she could towards the door, hunched over, pushing the trolley before her.

‘
Please!
’ she silently begged as she felt the front of the trolley slam into the burning door.

For a split second she feared she had just consigned herself to a terrible and fiery death but then with the splintering of burning wood and a blast of colder air rushing forward to greet her, the front of the metal trolley broke through.

‘Yes!’ she hissed from under the tarpaulin, her momentum sending her and the trolley crashing through the disintegrating door, just as a burning panel broke free and hit her hard on the shoulder. ‘Ouch!’ she cried in surprise as the unseen burning wood slammed against her before being knocked aside.

But the momentary pain of the blow was a small price to pay for her escape and as Fran felt the traction under the wheels change from the bare concrete of the smoke house to the smooth tiled floor of the Dome, she knew she would gladly pay this price over and over again if it meant she could settle some scores with the residents of White Oak Park.

Skidding to a stop a few metres from what was left of the burning door, Fran threw the tarpaulin away, dropped to a crouch and trying to supress the urge to cough, looked around; scanning for danger. Just as she had thought, she now found herself at the far end of the moonlit Dome, somewhere to the left of where she had encountered Wendy earlier that evening. Knowing it was foolish to be out in the open, Fran, darted away from the trolley and made for a patch of dark shadows to her right; slipping one of the large hooks from her belt loops as she ran. Coming to a stop by a large water barrel, she glanced back the way she had come and to the smoke house that at the moment was certainly living up to its name. For within the few minutes she had taken to check her surroundings the blaze had started to engulf not only the rest of the room but had also spread to the long wooden planters either side of the burning door. Even as she watched, sparks of burning foliage were lifted up by the warm air currents only to come down again a few metres away, igniting somewhere else; rapidly expanding the fire, one tiny glowing ember at a time.

‘
I hope the whole fucking lot burns,
’ she thought, watching as yet more of the precious crops became engulfed by the spreading fire. ‘Not that they’ll have to worry about food… for long,’ she said, a dark and cruel look in her eyes as she watched the crackling flames a moment longer before finally turning and slipping away between two of the raised growing beds.

For Fran knew within the next hour or so, one by one, she would unburden the residents of White Oak of such earthly needs and when she had finished a new and insatiable hunger would bloom within each of them, consuming all that they ever were. For now she would tip the scale of fate against the living, she would lead the Dead to them or simply kill them herself; but either way she would make sure they knew it was her that had consigned them to their unending damnation. They had brought this hell upon themselves and if she had her way there would be no quick release from their torment. She wanted them to suffer, to know their fate and what awaited them. Only then as the seconds of their lives ticked away, filled with the horrific knowledge of what they were to become, could she say she had kept her word to Kai, Mike and Sam; only then could she allow this need for revenge that raged inside her to finally be replaced with the true and all-encompassing grief that she needed to truly mourn her loss.

Running through the warren of planters, raised beds and vegetable patches, Fran silently made her way back to the side door that Wendy had used; all the while the golden glow of the fire behind her growing, pushing back the silvery darkness of the night, bit by bit.

‘
It’s around here…somewhere,
’ she thought to herself, her eyes searching the wall of dark rabbit hutches, their shadows as yet untouched by the encroaching light. ‘
Ah, there it is!
’ she continued, at last noticing the break in the row of darkness that could only be the door.

Keeping low, Fran began to edge forward. She was just passing a wide knee-high planter overflowing with the broad leaves of some sort of squash or pumpkin, when she paused and reached for something she had noticed lodged in the damp soil.

‘Now… that’s better,’ she muttered, testing the weight of the small gardening fork in her hand, ‘not much… but better,’ she continued, at last slipping the butcher’s hook back onto one of her belt loops before darting across the open space towards the door. ‘
My machete would be better though,
’ she thought to herself, making a quick search for her dropped weapon as she ran.

If it was still there, lurking somewhere in the deep shadows, Fran couldn’t see it and as she finally reached the door, she turned to take one final look at the Dome behind her. In the distance she saw the flames reflecting merrily off the curved ceiling of the Dome, growing brighter and brighter as the fire spread unchecked, and as she watched the changing colours, so vivid against the dark night sky beyond, Fran realised she could never come back here. For just as Kai had died, so too had part of her died in that room of ash; and in the void that his death had left within her, something cold and unforgiving had rushed in to take its place. She knew she was no longer the woman Kai had fallen in love with, the very absence of him changing her, and worst of all, Fran knew no matter what happened, she could never be that woman again.

‘Goodbye…’ she softly whispered, whether to Kai or her former self she honestly didn’t know. ‘I’ll miss you.’

And with that she opened the door and slipped silently into the night.

***

Dennis was mumbling something in his sleep as he rolled over, his thick bare arm flopping over the side of the bed, exposing it to the chill night air. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the cold slowly creeping into his fingers and even as his eyes darted back and forth across his closed eyelids, his dream morphed and evolved to include this tiny fact from the real world.

‘We need you… Dennis,’ Emma was saying to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she took his hand in hers, raising it to her lips; while behind her three strange brown rabbits up on their back legs danced across the windowsill, ‘I need you…’ she continued, softly kissing his fingers.

‘Your lips… are… cold,’ he commented, watching mesmerised as she moved from one finger to the next, caressing him with an icy touch. ‘Emma… your lips…. they’re so cold.’

‘So?’ she murmured, tilting her head to one side as if she didn’t understand his objection.

‘I…’ he started to say just as the young woman’s tongue snaked out between her pale lips to lick his thumb.

Behind her Dennis noticed that one of the rabbits had stopped its merry dance and was now watching them, shaking its head quite disapprovingly.

‘Ignore him,’ she whispered, flicking her head toward the rabbit; her eyes never leaving Dennis’, ‘he’s just jealous.’

‘Just jealous…’ Dennis repeated, a smile twitching at his lips as Emma continued her cold seduction; much to the annoyance of the rabbit that thumped its back leg angrily down against the windowsill.

‘See,’ smiled Emma, her lips parting, ‘what did I tell you… jealous.’

‘Yeah… jealous,’ said Dennis, enraptured by the young woman in front of him; the repeated drumming of the rabbit’s back leg barely registering.

With her mouth opening wider, Dennis watched as Emma licked her oddly blue lips before slowly taking his thumb into her mouth.

‘Jesus!’ he gasped, shocked as his thumb was suddenly enveloped by a wave of icy numbness.

‘Hmm,’ Emma groaned with pleasure, her eyelids slowly dropping.

‘Emma…’ whispered Dennis, the movement of the cold wet tongue in her mouth strangely erotic against the warmth of his thumb. ‘God… so… cold…’ he continued, aware her actions were having the desired effect on him. ‘God… I… I want you…’

With her eyelids fluttering open, Emma looked up at him and smiled; her teeth playfully biting down before releasing him.

‘Really…’ she smiled, kissing his thumb one final time before slowly moving his hand down to cup her breast. ‘Well, let’s see what we can do about that…’ she continued, yet even as she spoke she turned to glare annoyingly at the rabbit that was still thumping its back leg angrily. ‘Look... perhaps… perhaps you should just get that…’ she went on to say, turning back to Dennis as the sound of the thumping changed and grew strangely louder.

‘What?’ he replied, unsure just what she meant; his eyes flicking to the little rabbit behind her again.

‘Oh, I’ve got a joke for you,’ said Emma, suddenly animated; all thoughts of sex seemingly forgotten. ‘Knock-knock…’

But before Dennis could offer a bemused reply she continued, repeating herself over and over as if stuck in a loop; her words mirrored by the thumping of the disapproving rabbit’s foot.

‘Knock-knock-knock-knock….’

‘
Door!
’ the word suddenly emblazoned across Dennis’ sleeping mind, jolting him awake.

‘What! Jesus! Yeah, yeah, I’m awake… I’m awake,’ he grumbled, shaking the sleep from him as he swung his legs over the side of the bed; forcibly flexing the cold fingers on his left hand to get some warmth flowing back into them. ‘I’m coming… just hold your horses…’ he called again, readjusting himself in his underwear as he walked across the moonlit room; vaguely hopeful it was perhaps Emma paying him a visit so he could at least put his arousal to good use after all.