“Hamed!” the woman calls as Uri passes. “Don’t go!”
The man turns. “I have to Nareen. It’s my duty.”
“Duty? No! You’re wrong. They’re wrong!” Desperation rides her voice.
The man ignores her and Uri walks behind him as the woman shouts a final “Come back now, Hamed, or never come back!”
Hamed flinches but doesn’t look back. Instead, he pulls at the straps of his rucksack and strides with a more determined step. The clink of glass adds a chime to the steady pad of his footsteps as Uri walks the same path. A door slams shut and Hamed flinches then seems to sag, his head bowed.
The greens and blues of the sky disappear and the sky explodes into a brilliant red. Stunning! Uri stops to watch the vermillion sky, the city is bathed in a red hue, the colour reflected off myriad windows, casting its glow over the grey concrete and stone blocks of the buildings, the seem to catch fire. As he scans the horizon, he recognises the outline of his own apartment block. Viktoria and Anna! If they wake to see this they will be terrified without him. Picking up his pace, he breaks into a run.
Out of breath, and with legs aching from the ten flights of stairs he’s taken two at a time, he’s at his front door. Each time he wanted to stop he thought of Anna afraid in her red-lit bedroom or sitting in the dark. Each time he’d powered his thighs harder. The door opens to silence and he slips unnoticed into the darkened rooms.
Shoes off in the hallway, coat hung on a peg, he pads through to the living room. The air is warm, the room lit by moonlight casting deep shadows. The fiery red hue has burned away and now the heavens glitter with stars. Uri takes a carton of juice from the fridge and begins to fill a glass then stops. The shops were either empty or locked so their supplies would be limited until normality returned. He can’t let Anna go without, or Viktoria for that matter. He fills the glass to a quarter full and replaces the carton in the fridge. The juice is tepid, without its usual chill, but it quenches his thirst and he needs the carbohydrates. His belly growls. He definitely needs to refuel.
He swings the door wide, grabs the torch from the counter, shines its light on the array of neatly-stacked food, and pulls at a plastic carton—the remains of the last meal Viktoria had cooked, one of her from-scratch Italian dishes – vintage cuisine she calls it when they eat it the following day. He walks to the window and takes a large spoonful. With the rich taste of sun-dried tomatoes and garlic hitting his taste buds he looks to the sky. The stars, so incredible in this dark sky, are something he will never grow tired of. There should be a blackout every night.
Flashes of orange dot the other side of the city.
Frowning, he leans to the window. Fire climbs the skyline as tower blocks burn. Hell is on earth for anyone trapped there. God help them, he certainly couldn’t.
Viktoria lies still in her sleep and her skin is delicious next to his as he slips in naked beside her. She murmurs as he strokes his hand over her belly and round her back, pulling her to him, squashing her naked flesh to his. Overwhelmed by emotion he holds her soft body to his.
“What is it?” she asks through the dark.
He grunts and draws in the aroma of her neck.
“You missed us, huh?” she asks.
“Uhuh,” he replies and pulls her tighter.
She strokes her hand through his hair, used to his need for her after a job.
“Shh!” she says stroking his cheek. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
He kisses her neck and then her mouth and loses himself to their love.
WITHOUT A BASEMENT Rashid has no choice but to work higher in the building. Perhaps this would be better anyway? He mounts the stairs and begins his work. Shrugging the backpack off, he takes out the plastic water bottles. Whoever thought of putting petrol in the bottles - Faisal he thinks - was a genius! The bottles held the fuel well, he could fit loads in his bag, and they were fun to squirt at the walls. He takes four bottles out. He needs to be just a little higher in the building. Tucking the bottles under his arms he climbs another flight.
Slam!
His heart races, and he stops to listen. Footsteps sound on the staircase above but seem to be walking up to the next floor. Another door slams and the footsteps disappear. Who was up at this time of night in the dark? Never mind, they wouldn’t have legs to walk on soon. He laughs. The only good kafir was a dead kafir. Bin Sayeed was right. They’d bring this stinking, pig-eating country to its knees and then make it their own—it’s people slaves to them, its women their whores. Hah! He squirts the fuel over the wall. It stinks and he coughs then writes his name in petrol. It leaks on his hands and he wipes it over his jeans. He’d have to wash them before his mother found them. No! He was a man now. He would tell her to wash them and to shut up if she complained.
He throws the empty bottle down then makes his way to the next level. He squirts the walls and this time spins on his toes, spraying the petrol in a twirling arc. Like he said, Faisal was a genius. The bottle empty, he throws it down the stairwell then steps down to the next level. He checks his pocket for the tenth time. Yes, it was still there; his rectangular lighter. Once he’d finished, he’d stand and watch. An ache passes over him. He needs a cigarette—best not to have one just yet! He laughs at his own joke then pulls up the top of another bottle.
Five minutes later and his job is done. All four bottles are empty and three levels of the stairwell are doused and ready to light. He has six bottles remaining for the next tower block. There were eight targeted for this area tonight. What a blaze that would be! What a lot of pig-eating kafirs would burn.
He reaches for the lighter and flicks his thumb over the teeth of the wheel. It turns and sparks but doesn’t light. Insha’allah this time. He tries again. It doesn’t spark. The thought that perhaps God doesn’t will it crosses his mind, but that is too much for him to cope with and he dismisses it. No! What Bin Sayeed said is right. All non-believers must come under their rule and this was a war, God’s war. Yes, but what if everything you have been taught is wrong? What if it’s all a lie? Shut up!
He frowns as he takes a step, coughs then slips as his foot slides over the fuel that has dripped from the bottle. His head hits the concrete step and pain shoots across the back of his head. The lighter, held tight in his hand, sparks against the rough concrete. A flame leaps out and his hand catches alight. He stares at the never-ending return of the stairs as it climbs higher and higher to the ceiling of the tower block unaware that fire dances along his skin as the pain in his neck becomes excruciating. He strains forward and screams. The pain is immense. Has he broken his neck?
The smell of singeing wafts into his nostrils and the pain in his hand is suddenly unbearable. He lifts it. Fire is burning his flesh and running up his arm. He tries to roll. Stop, drop and roll. That’s what he’d been taught. He pushes himself to the side and flaps at his arm. He screams in agony as the break in his neck shifts. He can’t move! Within seconds the flames are eating the liquid he’d sprayed across the walls and down the steps. Within another, they are eating the paint on the walls and devouring him. The flames spread along the denim of Rashid’s jacket and down his legs before enveloping his head and burning through the cloth to his skin. He screams and his body shunts down the steps as he writhes in agony. His last scream comes as flames enter his mouth and he sucks them down into his lungs.
CHAPTER TWO
Uri draws a circle around Viktoria’s belly button as she lays back on the pillows. Even through the grey light in their bedroom he can see that she is smiling.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asks.
“Uri! You always ask that,” she laughs. “Couldn’t you tell?” she teases.
“So ... you came?”
“Hah! You know I did.”
He bends to her lips and kisses her gently. “Good.”
“Uri?”
“Yes?” He lays his head on her shoulder and strokes at the soft skin of her breast.
“Tonight ... yesterday
... did you ... did you kill someone?”
He sighs. No! Unfortunately, not. “It’s my job, darling.”
She sighs.
“And you know that I have no choice. The Family come first.”
“Family! Pah! We’re – me and Anna – we’re your family.”
“Viktoria,” he says in a soothing voice. “We’ve been over this so many times.”
“Yes,” she says quietly. “Yes, but I want to leave the city, Uri, I don’t want to bring our daughter up here.”
He agrees. “I can’t just leave. Perhaps ... perhaps we could get that house in the country and you could live there with Anna,” he suggests though it hurts to say it. He was willing to make the sacrifice of not seeing them each day if it meant a better life for them.
“No! Uri, we would miss you too much.”
He’s relieved though a little irked. It could work. “Then you’re going to have to put up and shut up,” he laughs.
She slaps at his arm with a gentle tap then goes quiet. “Uri,”
“Yes?”
“Kiss me again.”
“You’re so demanding,” he laughs and leans into her.
Slam!
He jolts and turns to the open bedroom door.
“I wish they would be quieter!” Viktoria says with annoyance. “It’s the middle of the night—it could wake Anna.”
“Shh!” Uri says as he tries to focus on the noises outside. He turns and throws the covers off his bed as he discerns the shouting from the corridors. Cold washes over him as he becomes aware of the anguish in the voices. “Get dressed Viktoria! Get Anna and get her dressed. Quick!”
“What is it, Uri?”
“I don’t know, but something is wrong.”
He pulls on yesterday’s jeans then takes his gun from the box on top of the wardrobe. Shouts and screams reverberate through the building as he opens the front door but the hallway is dark. He slams the door shut and strides to the window that overlooks the street. Smoke billows from the floors below. His hands tremble. Fire! The building was on fire!
“Uri?”
He swivels from the window to his wife. “Do we have a fire blanket?”
“No! Why would we need a fire blank-”
“The block is on fire,” he says trying to keep his voice low. Anna, standing next to her mother, stares at him through the moonlight.
“We need something to protect ourselves if ...” He stares back at Anna, her white-blonde hair grey in the light. He couldn’t bear it if-
“We should stay here.”
“No!” They didn’t stand a chance if they stayed in the flat. “No. We have to get out of here.”
“Towels.”
“Towels?”
“Yes, I’ve seen it in a movie—they used wet towels to get through ... get through the fire.”
“Sure. OK. Get towels then—wet them—enough for the three of us.”
“Daddy!”
“It’s alright, Anna,” he croons to the half-dressed child. He takes her jumper from Viktoria and crouches, pulling it over the girl’s head.
“We need to seal the bottom of the doors and make sure all the windows are shut!” she calls after him as he runs to Anna’s room.
“No. We have to get out.”
“But the safety advice—the policy is that we stay in our flats unless there’s a fire inside.”
“Yes, but that’s assuming help is on it’s way. There is no help, Viki, not tonight.”
“Why?”
“The blackout—everything is down. There are fires burning across the city.”
“Yes, I know, but-”
“They’re burning because there’s no fire service to help put them out.”
“But-”
“No buts, Viktoria. We’re going to have to save ourselves. No one is coming.”
A sound of pain and fear gurgles in Viktoria’s throat and Uri’s chest tightens. He has to get them out! Think! There wasn’t a fire escape on the outside of the building like their previous home so their only option was to go down the stairs. Perhaps the fire was coming from above—one of the flats upstairs—maybe?
“Wet the towels and meet me back in the hallway. We’ll go down the stairs.” She stares at him in fright. “We’ll be OK,” he soothes though his heart beats at a rapid pace.
“There’s no water!”
Uri stops. Of course!
“Do we have any water?”
“A bottle—in the fridge.”
“Use that then.”
“On the towels?”
“Yes, on the towels—sprinkle it on them or something.”
He finishes dressing the girl and with her safely in his arms, head on his shoulder, grabs a damp towel and covers her shoulder.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” Viktoria nods, the fear obvious in her voice.
At the front door the stench of smoke is unmistakable. Voices rise then cut off as a door bangs open then shuts. At the end of the hallway a heavy fire door leads to a dark stairwell. Viktoria falters.
“We have to go down,” he says with a hand on her back. She resists for a second then follows him. Smoke rises to meet them and Anna coughs.
“Hold the towel over your mouth and nose, Anna,” he says rocking the child’s shoulder.
“Don’t want the towel,” she refuses and pushes her face into his shoulder.
“It will help you breath,” he cajoles.
In the stairwell the smoke thickens and his eyes begin to burn. They had to make a move whether she covers her face or not. “Just hold on tight to Daddy!” She nods into his shoulder. “Viktoria. Hold my arm and keep your back to the wall. Follow me down.”
Uri slides his hands along the walls, feeling his way down the stairs until they reach the next landing. Heat! His stomach rolls and he grips Anna tighter to him. A door bangs below and then footsteps tap against the concrete risers. As the pounding of feet grows louder Uri realises the fire must be on a lower floor. “Go back, Viki. We can’t get out this way.”
“But how-”
“It’s blocked. The fire is below us.”
As he turns to retrace his steps the running feet reach their landing and a body bangs against his shoulder.
“Ugh!”
Uri lurches forward. Anna yelps as his fingers dig into her.
“Get out my way!” a man grunts. He coughs as he pushes past Uri then clambers past Viktoria, slipping on the concrete steps. “You can’t get down that way,” he shouts back as he stumbles forward. “There’s fire on the stairs down there.”
“How many floors?” Uri calls after the man.
“On the second floor. I’m going to the other stairwell,” he calls back then disappears through the door.
“Follow him,” Uri urges and takes the steps two at a time.
Heart pounding, he runs along the corridor. Anna’s head knocks against his shoulder. Ignoring her complaints, he holds her tighter. She begins to wriggle.
As they pass through one set of double doors and then another they come to the fire door marking the emergency exit. Viktoria pushes the bar down and swings the door open. Smoke billows out, the heat overwhelming.
“No!”
“Get back,” Uri urges as smoke engulfs them.
The door swings shut.
“Let’s go back to the flat. We’ll be safer in there.”
“No, Viktoria. The fire is below us.”
“The roof?” she suggests.
“The roof,” he repeats and is silent for a moment as he processes the thoughts. He imagines them on the rooftop, safe for the moment, but if the fire continued ... no, that was no good. “No, we would be trapped there. We’ll have to jump down.”
“Jump! But we’re too high!”
“We have to get down to the lower floors and then jump. It’s the only option.”
“But both stairwells are full of smoke.”
“The other one wasn’t as thick. We can at least get down one more
floor, maybe two.”
“Go back again?”
“Yes, as far as we can.”
Without waiting for her reply Uri runs back along the corridor. Viktoria at his side, he sprints to the stairwell. The smoke is thicker but they work their way down two floors before the heat and smoke make the stairs impassable.
With Anna clutched in one arm, and the towel held over his nose and mouth in the other, he pushes at the door and bursts through into the hallway. The door slams shut behind them. The space is alive with panic-ridden voices and through the grey light a group has gathered near the window.
“We have to go up!” a man shouts.
“If we go up, how will we get down?” another argues.
“The roof! We can go to the roof.”
“Try the other stairwell,” a woman suggests.
“Both stairwells are impassable,” Uri replies.
The voices stop for a second then break out into a cacophony of fear.
“The fire is below us. The only-”
“Then we go up!”
If he didn’t take control of the situation they’d die here like startled sheep. Please let them understand his English!
“Shut up!” he booms. In the next second the hallway is silent. “We cannot go up or down.” Uri replies. “We-”
“Fire safety policy is that we stay in our flats,” a voice calls from the back of the crowd.
Policy! What did policy know about the blackout? Nothing! “Policy is only if fire is in your apartment. The fire is burning all apartments downstairs.
Someone whimpers.
“The fire is out of control. All the escape routes are blocked off.”
“We go up then!”
“No! Listen. No one comes to rescue us. If we go upstairs we burn there.”
A woman sobs and Uri hugs Anna’s head to his chest covering her ears.
“We have to go up!”
“No!”
“If we can’t go down then we have to go up!”
“We should stay in our rooms—it’s what the policy-”
They didn’t listen! “Didn’t you hear me? There is no one to rescue us from roof. You have seen fires across city?”
Blackout & Burn: A Complete EMP Thriller Series Page 20
