by Mason Sabre
It rendered Diana and James speechless, settling a darkness on them with what the smoke coming out meant. On the busier days, the smoke darkened the skies to almost black.
“I hope those things are the first to go with whatever this is. That we take them down.” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine how many Others they have burnt in …”
“James don’t …”
His knuckles were bone white as he pulled the car to a stop and glared at the monstrosity standing through the skyline. “One of my jobs at the facility, before I met you I mean, they got me to reanimate the corpses sometimes and then have them walk themselves into the fires.” He met her gaze with eyes filled with horror. “People think just because a corpse is dead, that when I stuff the soul back in and get them talking again, they don’t feel anything. No brain power, you know?” He tapped his head. “But they do feel. I used to hear the screams of the dead in my dreams.”
Diana slid a hand into his. “Oh, James.”
“If this Prisoner does anything, I want to be part of taking those chimneys down. It all needs to be over.”
Chapter 4
An occasional stop for a drink, something to eat and to swap over with the driving, Diana and James had driven pretty solidly by the time he pulled the car to a proper stop at the side of the road. He rubbed at his eyes with the balls of his hands and then rolled his shoulders to push out the knots forming there before they settled into his neck and made every movement sheer agony. “It'll be dark in an hour or so,” he said. “Maybe we should find somewhere to bunk down for the night?”
All Others were forbidden to be out after dark, but to get to the rendezvous point, they needed to travel for four days, and there wasn’t shit in the way of places to stay. Exile didn’t boast the pleasures of a hotel or motel to just stop at and rest for the night.
“These woods will be thick enough?” Diana asked, as she strained to peer out of the window to them.
They’d already decided on camping. It was the safest bet, and if they got in deep enough, no one would find them. The only people to roam the woods were shifters, and James sure as hell preferred a shifter coming across them, rather than a sweeper or a money hunter. Although, if any shifters had been out, they’d better be on their way home. It wasn’t Moon Night. Moon Nights were the only nights shifters could break curfew.
There was little Humans could do about Moon Night. Scream and shout all they wanted, but that Luna cycle would turn shifters whether or not the Humans liked it. It was simpler just to make the exception.
“There’s a path just over there,” James said, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. “Didn’t look used, just sort of overgrown. Maybe we can throw the car there for the night and then hike into the woods?”
Diana shifted in her seat. From where they were, she could make out the lights coming on along the main road at the other side of the field. Just the sight of them strummed her heart and made her think of what they’d left behind.
“We’re doing the right thing,” James said, sensing her worry, or just knowing her too damn well he could read her.
She slumped back. “We didn’t say goodbye to anyone, or sorry. I …” She patted his hand and gave herself a moment. “Ignore me. I’m just tired. Are we setting up in there somewhere for the night?” She meant the big patch of trees close to them. It was dense and dark, even before the sun had fully gone down.
“It’s as good as any. If we drive the car down this path and cover the tracks, I don’t think anyone will find it, but if they do … I want to be far enough away from our car. Looks like there’s a farm there, or maybe it was. If we shove the car up there, then maybe they think it’s part of that or something.”
It seemed possible. She couldn’t see so much of the farm James mentioned, but there was a roof, well there was part of a roof. Most of it was missing. Just the structure of it protruded out into the sky. “There could be a barn we could put the car in. What about the chickens and the food?”
“They’re fine in their cages in the back. It isn’t hot.”
“It gets stuffy.”
He shrugged. “I’ll crack the window a little. Finn can come with us.”
James let himself stretch again before starting the engine and turning the car around to drive to the path. “I swear, I could sleep for a week.”
“You and me both.” She had driven some distance. It was amazing how driving could take it out of a person. Just sitting and steering and little else. It made her wish she could go back to her own bed and lie in it for the week. Lying on the hard ground for the night was not appealing, and whoever had described Exile as being small, was an idiot in Diana’s view. It was huge. A big place for people to get lost in, for Humans to hide Others and stow away the shame of what they did in the name of science. Others ran to Exile to escape things, and more often than not, found an even harsher nightmare. It was such a screwed-up reality.
As they pulled onto the path, if they needed any confirmation that the farm was old and abandoned, they found it with the first gate. It was off its hinges and buried in the long grass that had grown around it. Bits of weeds and grass grew in haphazard ways along the path. James drove ready to throw the car into reverse if they got to the farm and found something they didn’t want to see—Humans.
There wasn’t much of a farmhouse when they reached it. From what they had seen, Diana had expected more. “Is that it?” she asked, leaning forward for a better look.
“Aye, looks like it.”
She knew the property would be a shell, but this was downright decrepit. The barn, the roof they’d seen and mistaken for the farmhouse, was in the best shape and that wasn’t saying much.
“Wait here a second.” James stopped the car, got out and went to the barn. The large doors wobbled a little, and for a moment seemed like they would fall back, but James got them open, and then he stared into the darkness, hands on his hips.
“Well we’re not parking the car in there,” he said as he came back. “Place is flooded out and filled with rusted machinery.” He squinted out the way they had driven, out to the road and to the path. “I don’t think anyone will see us from here. The house is hard enough to see over all that tall grass. I don’t think anyone comes this way much anyhow.”
She got out of the car. “You’re wanting to stay here?”
Most of the house was in ruins; perhaps the centre was still intact. The main door was standing in place, and there was a room to the side, that from the outside appeared to have all its walls and windows.
“Just for the night?” He stood with his hands on his hips, those strong legs, the reminder of the man she had met … watched, stared at. The kind face who’d come to her, whispered to her, told her it was okay, and he would get her out. She slid up to him, pressing her side against his so he had to lift his arm and drape it across her shoulder. “Finn is with us, anyone comes, he’ll hear them. Might be better in here than out there. Plus, there’s a field. Might afford us some rabbit.”
“We’ve got vegetables in the car and water. If we make a fire, I can make us a broth or something.” Killing rabbit made her tense. Not that she wasn’t a meat eater, but she didn’t want to see it … didn’t want to see the animals killed.
“It’s been ages since we ate anything substantial.”
“Vegetables can be substantial.”
He kissed the top of her head. “You know what I mean.” She did. Meat in their town was a rarity. Meat in any town was a rarity. Any food was shared between the people of their town, so once things got divided up, there wasn’t much per person. The main meat they ate was fish, but then that wasn’t what James meant, and she knew it. Proper meat.
“Are you taking Finn?”
“He’s okay here. I’d prefer he stays with you.”
They scouted the house. There were two rooms left, a kitchen which was missing most of its stuff. It had a sink, and by some miracle, when Diana tried the tap, she expected the entire thing to fa
ll down, with the sound it made, like a low rumble of a monster getting ready to spew out at her, but then it jittered, and brown liquid came out, soon followed by water.
There was a lounge too, well sort of. There was a fireplace at one wall, but no furniture. The room had glass in the windows still, but some floorboards were missing, or just rotten. There was a nest in the corner, or what had been a nest. Finn went straight to it, knocking it all away with his muzzle, but whatever creature had used it as a home was long gone.
“You okay here, while I go hunt?”
“Yeah. Me and Finn, we’ll cut up veggies and get the pot going.”
A pause. “If anything were to happen, you’d leave, right? You get you and Finn out of here, no heroics.”
“James …”
“I’m being serious. If anyone came, and I was out in the field, you’d make a run?”
No. She’d not. She hated that he was even asking it. Hating that he was even thinking it. “I’d not leave without you.”
“You would if that meant getting yourself to safety.”
“Nothing will happen.”
“But if it does,” James said, pushing. “I don’t want you to sit here and wait. You run. I’ll find you, okay?”
Diana gave him a weak nod of confirmation, and they both knew it was a lie. She’d not leave him, no matter what happened. Her life was nothing without him in it and if someone got hold of him and ended his life, she was sure as hell she’d want to go too. He was James, her James—he was her life.
She and Finn watched as James’ form disappeared into the tall grass in the field nearest the house. He slung his crossbow over his broad shoulder, and for the flash of a second, she saw the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago, walking … that strong man. The man with the kind face and the courage of an army as he’d lifted her out and carried her to safety.
“Shall we make dinner?” She asked Finn, running her hand through the dog’s fur.
Finn gave a quick flick of his tail and then waited until she moved. Diana went around the back and see what was there. She found more grass, more weeds and discarded things from whoever had owned the house before.
The kitchen door was in one piece and it swung when she pulled it open. The kitchen itself, aside from the sink, had four cabinets, part of a counter and a set of drawers that had fallen in on themselves.
“Oh, bingo,” she said, when she opened the first drawer. There was cutlery in there. Not much, but enough. She pulled out a knife and cleaned it on the edge of her sweater. She tested the knife on one potato and it cut in through. “It’ll do,” she said to Finn.
She had Potatoes and leeks from storage with her. She peeled them, chopped them and then daring to use the sink, which gave the same god-awful noise, she filled the pan with water. At least the fireplace was big enough, and it had one of those hooks to hang the pan on, so she could make the broth there and not have to make a fire outside in the garden.
As the broth simmered on the fire, Diana sat herself on the floor and leant against the wall just to watch it. It felt like days since they had left the house, weeks since they had seen anyone, and a lifetime ago, since she had been in her own house. It was hard not to wonder what people were doing. Did Jeff manage to make anything to eat? Had Nathan made it through the night okay?
It would be a couple of days before anyone realised she or James were missing, Diana decided. There was no need for everyone to see everyone else on a daily basis. Letting out a sigh, she closed her eyes and rubbed at Finn’s head. He had his head resting across her thigh and was enjoying lying there and being petted.
“Look,” James said, when he came back, mouth set in a wide, victorious grin, hand holding two rabbits by their feet. Both dead.
That got Finn’s attention. He got up and dashed over to James, tail wagging, whole body going with it. “Easy, boy. You’ll get some.”
“I hope you’re planning on skinning and gutting those yourself. I found cutlery in the drawer. You can do it at the sink.”
“You want some?”
Diana grimaced. “No. It’s okay.”
“Suit yourself.”
She got James a spit set up in the fire, so he could cook both the rabbits, she was glad he skinned them himself and then washed away all the waste from it and discarded everything else.
It didn’t take long for the aroma of food to fill the air and make Diana’s stomach growl even more than it had been before. She still wasn’t going to eat the rabbit no matter how hungry she felt. No thank you. She could make it through the night on bowls of potato and leek broth.
When they had eaten their meal, James brought in the blankets from the car and they used one to line the floor where they would lie. Diana rolled up a coat and used it as a pillow to cushion her head from the harsh floor, but even with that, she knew in the morning, she’d wake with an ache in her shoulder.
They’d let the fire burn down to just smouldering embers. The reds, giving enough light for them to see, but allowing enough dark for them to get some sleep.
“I don’t think I’ll have a problem sleeping tonight,” James said as he curled his body around the back of Diana’s, one hand dropping over her hip to hold her in place. Finn, as if in tune with what James was thinking, curled up in front of Diana and the two of them protected her on both sides. Typical dog, taking the fire side. She gave him a scratch on the top of his head and then settled with her own arm draped over him.
“I bet I’ll be asleep before you,” she teased. “No snoring.” She paused a moment and let the sounds of the room filter into her head. The fire crackled so lightly, it was barely detectable. There were crickets outside, too. They played their songs of the night, and she tried not to think about what other creatures might come around the house, mice, rats … She had to snap her brain shut before those thoughts went crazy and she went to sleep in the car. “Do you think there are mice in here?” she asked after a moment, giving into the thoughts.
“Maybe,” James said, and it was with a sleepy voice.
“You’re supposed to say no,” she said, twisting so she could look at him.
“I promised never to lie to you.”
“But you can lie about mice.”
He inhaled. “Sorry. I didn’t see the mice clause in our marriage vows. There’s no mice.”
She waited a moment. “Are you saying that because I told you to?”
A tired blink. “Yes.”
“James …”
Before she could say whatever was on her mind next, he grabbed her face and kissed her. “Go to sleep.” It was a sleepy, soft kiss, but it was warm and comfortable, and it was safe, so safe.
She smiled against his mouth and brushed her hand through his hair. “James?” she whispered, but he was already asleep, and she smiled at him. “I’m so lucky to have you.” If James wasn’t with her, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Although, if James hadn’t been with her, she’d be dead now. He had saved her life when he had got her out of that place she spent so much of her life trying to forget. James made that possible. He made anything possible. “Sleep tight.”
It was still dark when she woke up again. The fire had gone out and she rolled over to face James, but that side of the blanket was empty.
“James?” She sat herself up, making Finn jump, but he only raised his head for a second, and then lowered it again to his paws.
“James?” she asked again. The sound from the other room said he was in the kitchen, and when she got out of bed and went in there, she found him bent over the sink, his shoulders shaking. “Are you okay?”
The sour smell of vomit reached her as she moved into the room and she put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from gagging on reflex. She was never good with someone else being sick near to her.
“James?”
She waited for him to stop retching and for when he turned the tap on and rinsed his mouth out.
Her own stomach gave a queasy knot, and she had to deci
de if she had whatever he did, or if it was just the thought as she stood and watched him. Ever since she could remember, if someone got sick around her, she’d get sick too.
“Bad rabbit, I think.” He coughed and heaved and a second later, vomited again. Huge splatters of the water going back into the sink. “Go back to bed,” he said between heaves.
She didn’t listen. In sickness, she had promised him.
Chapter 5
Daylight broke, and the sun shone straight through the window into Diana’s face. She tried to put an arm across her eyes to shield it out and bury herself back into the sleep she’d crawled into, but it was too late. Her mind had already woken with the break of daylight. There was no way she was getting back off to sleep, even though her eyes stung, her head throbbed, and every part of her conscious mind screamed at her it was tired.
Letting her arm drop to the side, she rolled and went to sprawl out across James, but he wasn’t there. She was met with the vacancy and the coolness of a blanket that hadn’t been slept on for a while.
“James?” Half awake, half asleep, Diana rolled onto her side to face where James was meant to be. James was in the kitchen. He had to be. He’d already spent much of the night there, bringing up whatever his body could seek to rid itself of. God, she’d never seen anyone vomit as much as he had. How his body held that much inside it, she had no clue.
Half dazed, Diana pushed herself up and listened for more of the telltale sounds of his sickness. Five times he’d been up in the night. Five times of retching, coughing and banging his fists against the sink, as his body didn’t let up or let him breathe. It was a godsend when he had fallen asleep.
Finn was lying by the door. Apparently, his peaceful sleep was more important than anything, and he had got tired of the up and down James had been doing and put himself at the other side of the room. He lifted his head to Diana, licked all around his muzzle, stretched and then put his head back down.
There were no sounds at all when Diana pushed herself up and off the blanket and staggered to the kitchen.
