Winter Dreams

by Shawn Keys

  But then he heard muffled sounds from behind him.

  He turned in place, and his eyes widened.

  Three twenty-something women were snared up against a wooden fence on the far side of the display. The fence surrounded Santa’s chair, which in spite of the fire, gave an immediate, wicked sort of appeal. Santa’s throne stood at the heart, with three tied up elves surrounding it. It was a vision from right out of a Conan book, except written as fan fiction for Christmas. A place for a lord with his harem of lovely captives surrounding him.

  Drake tried to shake that off. They were sexy; hell, were they ever! Sexy in a way that brought instant guilt that he would dare think about them that way. Dressed in green corsets, elf hats, dark hose and those killer green heeled boots, they were a vision. A dark vision: for they were tied up and gagged. Perfect for driving a fetish-lover wild given the right circumstances.

  There was a festive sort of accent to the bondage, too. The wraps around their ankles and bodies and arms were done with Christmas lights, lighting up their elf costumes and setting their faces a-glow.

  But there was no erotic fun in their expressions. Instead, only raw terror as they absorbed the flames spreading their way.

  The red-headed girl was swaying, looking half-overcome by the smoke already. That wasn’t a good side. The brunette was coughing against her rag, trying to force it out so that she could get as good a breath as she could. The sandy-brown haired woman (who looked strangely familiar, actually) was moaning against her gag, trying to get his attention.

  Drake was glad that none of them had managed to spit that gag out. It was probably uncomfortable as hell, but it was helping keep them alive by filtering the smoke.

  Crawling across the ground, Drake unslung the pack he carried around. He wasn’t about to leave it behind, and now it was going to come in handy. He tugged his canteen out from inside. He splashed a little of it onto their gags, then called out over the increasing roar of the fire, “Breath through that! It’ll knock down the smoke even more!”

  The brown-haired woman nodded frantically, then stamped her feet as if signaling what would really help!

  He nodded back. She was right. He pointed at her friend who was lolling heavily to one side. “Her first!” He squirmed over, then pried at the light strands. They were not tied well; rather, they had been looped over and over each other, creating a tangle. Effective, but not neat, and so not easy to undo.

  He got it done, then laid the red-head out on the ground. He warmed her cheek with his palm, tapping her a little. She didn’t wake up, but she groaned and coughed. That was something.

  Shifting over to the brunette, he untied her next. She tried to stagger up to her feet, but he grappled her down to the ground, laying her next to her friend. “Stay low!” He bellowed into her ear, then went for the last elf. She proved to be the easiest, as she was conscious enough to twist and move her wrists to help him get her free.

  Finally, the lights gave way, and she was also free. She darted her eyes around, trying to see a safe space to run in all the fiery jumble. She tore out the gag and screamed, “We’re trapped!”

  Drake flashed his gaze to his hole leading down to the basement. The remains of the tree had tumbled down and was covering the opening. Well, shit. He looked at the service door leading out the back. It was a torch. Yeah, no. Lastly, he darted to look at the welcome entrance for kids and their parents. Free. For now.

  “That way! Can your friend stand?”

  The brunette was still choking and coughing hard, but she was struggling to get up again. This time, Drake didn’t push her down this time. Now was the time to run.

  The sandy-brown haired woman nodded. “I got her!”

  “Then I got her!” He swept his arms under the swooning, half-conscious red-head. Storming at the door, he shouldered against it with twice as much force as he probably needed. He was not going to be denied. He blasted through, then fought to keep his feet when it gave way. The fragile door was almost reduced to kindling.

  Drake stomped away, putting distance between them and the fiery chamber. He noticed that they were in the middle of one of the mall’s recreation spaces. The owners had put plants and such in the area to make it look like a small garden. Normally, that was wonderful. This time, it was a fire hazard. Already, the flames were spreading.

  Drake didn’t stop. He hacked some of the smoke from his lungs, but kept carrying his burden down one of the spokes of the mall until they had put a good fifty yards distance between them and the center of the fire.

  He could still smell smoke on the air. He also noticed the sparks and tongues of flame were already starting to carry. There was a good chance the whole central hub of the mall was going to go up in flame, and that was if they got lucky and it stopped. It could easily spread over the entire complex. There was too much old construction; not enough marble, too much wood, and lots of clothing stores to help fan the flame.

  He settled his charge on the ground. The other two stumbled up beside him.

  Drake said, “There’s still smoke in here. We need to get your friend outside.”

  The sandy-brown haired elf nodded back, understanding that smoke inhalation would keep getting worse with the haze in the air. “I see an exit that way!”

  Drake nodded. “If you see a fire-box along the way, pull it!”

  They kept struggling along. They found one of the red pull-boxes a dozen steps later. Yanking on it, the claxons and alarms immediately whooped into life. Drake was praying for sprinklers to come on, but apparently the mall either didn’t have any, or they were malfunctioning.

  They got to the exit just as they saw a security guard come into view on the other side. The guard started yelling and pounding on the outer doors and reaching for his keys to open them, while Drake unlatched the inner doors from his side. They met in the middle of the airlock between.

  The guard yelled, “Who are you? Why are you in there? The whole mall is locked up!”

  Drake spat some of the grime from his mouth. “Guess not. Prop those doors open! As long as these heaters are working, they’ll help keep the cold at bay while the smoke clears. If the fire gets closer, you can drag the girls outside.”

  The guard looked to the sandy-brown haired woman, who he apparently knew. “Cara, what the hell is happening? I thought you three were long gone! Is Karin alright?”

  Cara shook her head. “She needs an ambulance, and soon.”

  Beside them, the brunette choked and coughed, sounding nearly as bad.

  Cara rubbed her back, “Tricia needs one, too. Can you get on a radio or something, Gus? See if help is on the way?”

  Gus nodded frantically, only to stop as he saw Drake get back to his feet and look like he was ready to walk back into the mall. “Where do you think you’re going, stranger?” He sounded suspicious, already judging Drake harshly from the ragged look to his clothes. They were weirdly clean, but screamed ‘homeless guy’ from the poor quality and condition.

  Drake was already partly smudged again from the soot and smoke. So much for being clean, he sighed. He stopped long enough to scowl at the guard, “Are you sure no-one else is in there?”

  Gus pointed at the parking lot. “No cars out there!”

  Drake pointed at the women. “And yet… here they are.”

  Cara interjected, “Patrick! It was Patrick! He trapped us inside. He was going to let us die so he could collect the insurance!”

  Gus was shocked. “That’s impossible!”

  Drake was through hearing the guard talk about what was possible and what was not. He seemed like a nice guy, but totally out of his element. Drake directed his question at Cara instead. “Did he tell you anyone else was in there?”

  She shook her head. “He was surprised to see us.”

  “Are you absolutely certain?”

  Cara clearly wanted to say yes, but in the end, she shook her head.

  Drake nodded. “Then I’m doing a lap inside, as far as I can get. Get
Gus on the radio. Hope that I don’t bring anyone else out.” He opened the glass doors. Smoke and heat blasted out at him from the captive space inside.

  Cara handed him her former gag. “Wet it down. Do what you showed us. And keep low!”

  It was all good advice, so Drake just smiled. He wetted the rag down a little more, then covered his face with it. Oddly, though it was filled with smoke, he swore he could taste the strawberry of her lipstick on it as well.

  He vanished inside, bending low. He regretted his life-choices almost immediately. The fire was picking up steam, fed by the ventilation churning through the ductwork. He considered getting down into the basement and shutting it all down. But he wasn’t a mechanic. He didn’t even know if that was a good idea.

  Instead, he ran from store to store. Most of them were locked. He had to make due with screaming into the spaces through the grates, calling out and then listening for any replies. He made a fast round of the first floor, but dared not go up into the top floor. The smoke was too heavy, and the heat was probably building up fast near the ceiling. He could get cooked before he knew it was happening.

  He’d done what he could. He trotted back toward the exit when he saw a lithe, elf-dressed form emerge from the smoke. Squinting, he called out, “Cara?”

  It was, and she called back, “I wanted to help!”

  “You should have stayed with your friends. I’ve looked as far as I can! No-one is calling back.”

  “Did you check the offices?”

  That made him pause. “What?”

  “That jerk Patrick said he was doing this for the insurance money! He could have gotten trapped back there or something!”

  Drake grimaced. Whoever this Patrick was, it might serve him right to be caught by his own trap. Shaking that off, he asked, “Where is it?”

  She jerked her head to the side, and led him to a smaller, less grandiose entry door into the offices in back. “That’s it!” She was wearing a wet rag in front of her face too, but she coughed up badly, gracefully pushing the fabric out of the way to spit away the grime.

  Drake was worried. “You could head back.”

  She scowled at him. “I’m not leaving you in here alone! Now hurry so I can get back to my friends!”

  He huffed in reflexive humor, liking her determination. Turning toward the door, he smashed it open with a kick. He pulled back, waiting in case fire came out at them. Nothing did, so he ducked in and raced deeper into the office area. “Anyone in here?” There was a haze on the air, but the fire hadn’t reached in yet. When it did, all the paper and wiring was going to light up like a bonfire.

  Cara called out as well, checking the rooms on the left. “Can anyone hear me?

  A cough sounded from somewhere ahead. A croak, and then a man called, “H-he… hel… help!”

  They struck deeper, checking corners. Drake called out, “Where are you?”

  “B-by… ph-pho… photo… cop…”

  Photocopier. They both got it at the same time, and both of them darted up to the room. Cara shoved at it, and found it sealed. “Damn.” She pounded on the door. “It’s locked!”

  A choked voice sobbed from the inside, “Som…someone…l-locked…me in…please…help!”

  Drake wasn’t about to let a fragile door like this get in his way. Not after all they had been through. Whoever did this was really scorching the earth. We’ll need every witness we can get! Drake lined up with the door and kicked it hard, smashing the door right off the hinges. He marched into the room with the large machine.

  They found an older man crouched in the corner, coffee splashed over his pants and an ink smear on his cheek. He grunted at Cara, “Recognize him?”

  Cara nodded. “Mmmhmm. This is Gene, the head accountant.”

  “CPA, huh? Alone on a Christmas Eve? He’s going for stereotype of the year.”

  Cara smirked, but smacked his arm. “Just get him, alright?”

  Drake was already stooping to hook the guy’s arm around his broad shoulder. “Come on, man. We need to get the hell out of here.” The smoke was thick in here, even if the heat wasn’t up high. Noxious fumes were pouring in through the ventilation system. Gene was older, probably why he had collapsed so early on. Whatever health problems he suffered, they were going to make the damage to his lungs worse.

  Cara slipped under his other arm. Framing the fragile man, they supported him all the way back out to the exit. Drake glanced behind, seeing the fire crawling outward from the center, looking completely out of control. “Come on, we need to hustle.” They upped the pace, and less than a minute later they were out into the now-chilly entryway.

  Two ambulances were backed up to the entryway. Off in the distance, the first fire-truck was blaring its siren as it peeled into the parking lot. Further away, more sirens were emerging from the various corners of the city; among them, the tell-tale tonals of police cars, more fire trucks, and more ambulances as well.

  Tricia was sitting up on the edge of one of the ambulances, an oxygen mask over her face. Karin was laid out on the stretcher in the back. Vital machines were hooked up to her, and there was a clear beep beep beep signaling steady signs of life.

  Cara might have cared about Gene a little, but her friends were on a whole other level. She darted forward and into the truck, screaming out, “Karin! Oh my god, is she OK? Is she going to be OK?”

  The paramedics immediately started trying to talk her down.

  No sooner had they confirmed that Karin would survive than Cara descended on Tricia. She started hugging her until Tricia could barely breathe anymore.

  Leaving them to their reunion, Drake ushered the crippled Gene into the arms of other paramedics. He helped the old man climb the steps and into their waiting arms. Soon after, the hacking accountant was on the stretcher, getting the oxygen he needed to bring him back to level.

  Drake slumped back, putting a hand up against the side of the ambulance. He closed his eyes, struggling to cram the flash of panic back into his brain. Now was not the time. Now… is… not… the… time…

  It was the critical moment. Adrenalin had kept him going inside near the fire. But he was coming down from the high, and passing through the point when his heart was still pounding but he hadn’t returned to total calm. Just chill… the fuck… out! You’re not over there anymore.

  A calming voice intruded. “Are you alright, Sir? Come on. Sit down. Let me take a look at you.”

  Drake tried to push the paramedic away, but he lost the fight with the tenacious, insistent medic. Eventually, he was sitting on the edge of the ambulance as well, an oxygen mask strapped around his face, breathing deeply and trying to cough the last of the crap out of his chest.

  His vision cleared to see the legs of a suit waiting for him. Drake cast his gaze upward, taking in the ample body of a middle-aged detective. Drake hadn’t even seen his shield yet, but he knew the guy was police. Live on the street, you got a feel for the good ones and the bad ones. Not all that many were truly corrupt. That wasn’t the problem. But some were willing to give a break to people already hurting. Others weren’t. Some were being scrupulously fair; Drake could respect that too. Others were just dicks. Cops weren’t the exception; there were dicks in every trade.

  First impression? This guy was one of the dicks.

  Giving the guy a chance, Drake unhooked his oxygen mask and asked, “What can I do for you officer?”

  The guy took a sip of his coffee, trying to act casual. But he was focused on Drake with a sort of unhealthy intensity. “Wanted to talk to the great mystery hero. Seems that you’ve had quite the night. Got a name? No-one seems to know it. I don’t know what all the secrecy is about.”

  Drake fought to keep an annoyed frown off his face. Antagonizing the guy wasn’t going to help anything. “No secret. No-one asked. David Drake. Most people just call me Drake.” His tone made it clear he would prefer that trend to continue.

  The detective chewed on that. “Well, I’m Detective Michaels
.” He gestured to the thin, rake of a man standing next to him. “And this is Fire Inspector Bishop. Falls on us to clear up the mess here tonight.”

  Drake nodded. “Glad to hear.”

  Michaels studied the ragged clothing hanging off Drake’s limbs. “Got any ID?”

  It was a loaded question. “No.”

  “Uh huh.” No surprise to him. “Don’t suppose you got yourself a Social Insurance Number?”

  Drake eyed him carefully. “I do. I even remember it. Won’t do anything for you, though. Got a bank card, too. Still doesn’t do squat. Don’t got nothing with my picture on it. But that’s my name.”

  “Uh huh.” Again, there wasn’t much surprise there. “You willing to come down to the prescient and tell us a story about what happened?”

  It was nearly the last thing Drake wanted to do. It also felt inevitable. What the hell? At least I’ll be warm for Christmas Eve. “Sure, Detective. Give me a second. I need to make sure the ladies are fine. Then we can go anytime you want.”

  Before the two of them could really object, he pushed off and strode over to the other ambulances. When he wanted to, he could still move with a deliberate sense of purpose that caught most people off guard. He wasn’t rushing. But he wasn’t hesitating or waffling in a way that was alien to most civilians. This was the confidence that the special operations arm of the USMC had given him; make a choice, then roll with it and deal with the consequences. Don’t stop. Keep moving forward. If a RECON marine stops to ponder, that’s usually when they end up dying. Think on your feet.

  He stepped up to one of the paramedics who was filling out some paperwork. Drake looked around and asked, “I see the girls. Where’s the accountant we dragged out of there?”

  The paramedic smiled. “Oh, hi. Umm, right, he had a bit of a panic attack. They took him in a different rig to the hospital. But he should be fine. He didn’t inhale nearly as much as the girl in the back.”

  Drake nodded, then slipped toward the rear of the ambulance.

  Cara was finally getting herself checked out. She was up in the ambulance with a blood pressure monitor wrapped around her arm.