“I’m sorry,” I told him, then I turned and walked away.
Eight (Emily)
The noise coming from next door was different tonight. At first it sounded like an argument, the two of them bickering loudly. I couldn’t remember ever hearing the Klingmanns raise their voices in the five or so years that they’d lived on the other side of that paper-thin wall, so my curiosity was immediately raised. I thought I heard the back door shut, so I figured that one of them had stormed outside to escape the other, perhaps have a cigarette to calm down, but the argument kept on going, as fierce as ever. At that point I started humming and deliberately banging the pots as I washed them up, hoping that they’d get the hint and keep the noise down a little. A minute later, I put aside the last of the washing up and held my breath. The argument had finished but I thought I heard one of them, probably Hetti, crying. Curiosity got the better of me and I pressed my ear against the wall, hoping to catch some little part of the drama, but by then everything had gone strangely quiet again.
“Crazy people,” I muttered, sitting back at the kitchen table and returning to the book I was halfway through. Father was already asleep upstairs and I didn’t feel like taking a bath, not after the previous night, so I spent the quiet hours reading some old novel about life in renaissance times. The romance of it all, the very idea of freedom of expression, had me daydreaming like a little girl. It wasn’t until I felt a sudden heat against my face and heard a strange background rustling noise that I tore myself away, realising something was badly wrong.
I was halfway up the staircase when I noticed black smoke drifting across the ceiling above. My belly clenched and I tore up the remaining stairs, my legs trembling the whole way up. When I got to the top and twisted around, I saw that the smoke was pouring out of my bedroom, gushing into the hallway in all directions. I could hear a terrifying crackling sound coming from within and through the crack of the open door I saw that the wall glowed orange, the light flickering and dancing.
“No,” I breathed, dipping my head and crushing my palm over my mouth to try and keep out the smoke. I hurried across and nudged the door open and a barrier of heat slammed into me, knocking me backwards and burning my cheeks. My hand fell away as I grabbed the bannisters and a finger of acrid smoke slipped to the back of my throat, making me retch and choke. Everything blurred. I bent over and hacked until my chest ached, staggering down the hallway towards my father’s room. “Papa,” I tried to yell, but it came out as a desperate whisper, dying on my tongue and my throat burned at the effort, as if I’d swallowed back a fistful of razorblades. The strangest thing was how tired I suddenly felt. I could just lay down right where I stood and close my eyes and drift away. I had to shake my head and slap my face to keep my eyelids from drooping.
When I reached my father’s room, I shouldered the door open and staggered inside, my heart leaping when I saw that the wall just six feet from his bed had caught on fire. Angry flames licked their way up the wallpaper, causing it to blacken and peel away in great chunks. Already the smoke had covered the ceiling and it was creeping down, filling the room with a dull haze. My father was tossing and turning in his bed, moaning loudly. I held my breath and staggered across, yanking back his sheets and grabbing his shoulders and shaking him as hard as my throbbing muscles could manage. At first he only moaned louder, but then his eyes edged open and he stared up at me, confused and frightened.
“What, what is it?” he asked. When he turned and saw the fire spreading across the wall, he snapped out of his stupor immediately. His face twisted in panic and he reached out and wrapped his fingers around my arm. “Lord have mercy, the house is burning!”
“I know that,” I wheezed back, trying to get a grip on him and lift him out of bed. He wrapped an arm around my neck and slowly I managed to drag him to the edge of the bed, where he dropped his legs over the side and planted his heels on the floor. By now I was sucking in the smoke with every breath and the stuff was getting in my eyes, stinging them like a dozen tiny needles pushing on the surface. Tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I gasped and pushed away from the bed, heaving my father upwards until he was stood beside me, our arms wrapped tight around each other. Then we started towards the door, fighting against the burning heat.
When we struggled our way into the hall, my hopes collapsed. The air was thick with rolling soot, so dense that I couldn’t even see the way through. I swallowed hard and turned to father.
“Just keep on walking, papa. Hold on tight and keep on walking.” He nodded, coughing into his fist. Then, not wasting another second, I squeezed his arm and pushed into the cloud. Immediately I had to close my eyes, shielding them from the pungent smoke. The pair of us staggered forwards into the thick of it and I followed the bannisters, sliding one hand along them until I felt that we’d reached the top of the staircase. My chest was already burning but I kept my lips clamped shut, slowly releasing my breath through my nostrils.
I was about to stretch out my foot and feel for the edge of the stairs when I felt father shudder and then fall limp beside me and the sudden weight knocked me off balance. My fingernails scraped down the wall as we collapsed together to the ground and the impact knocked the breath from me, making me suck up more of the filthy air. Gasping and choking, I desperately scrambled to pick myself up. I could barely even tell which way was up any longer, my senses dull. Blinded, I groped my way to the wall and then reached out and found papa, lying still and silent just beside me. I tried to get my hands beneath him to lift him up, but I didn’t have the strength. My entire body was shaking and my chest was on fire and I felt my limbs growing numb, so I did the only thing I could. I grabbed him by the arm and used the last of my strength to drag him across the carpet, towards the staircase. By now I wasn’t even thinking. Instincts had taken over and all I knew was that I had to get us both out of there, or we’d be dead for certain. Inch by painful inch I pulled him to the stairs, finally forcing him up to the edge. With one last frantic heave, we both went over.
Everything became a wretched, painful blur. All I can remember are snippets of the next few minutes, half-slipping, half-crawling down the staircase. We were out of the smoke now, but the air was still hot and heavy and toxic. I tried to take in too much at once and retched violently, the force of it burning my throat even more. Still I kept on going, my left hand curled around my father’s arm. He was unconscious, tumbling down like a rag doll beside me, but I couldn’t leave him alone in here. I had to get us both out.
Somehow we made it to the bottom of the stairs and I immediately tried to rise to my feet, but a sickening dizziness overcame me and I collapsed sideways into the enormous ornate mirror hanging beside the front door. The thing came crashing down and I followed it, landing hard on the broken shards of glass. Their razor edges sliced into my flesh but I barely even felt it over everything else. My gaze dropped and I saw thin rivulets of blood trickling from the cuts on my palms and I paused, suddenly wondering if any of this was real. Surely just a terrible dream…even the pain was slipping away now…
No, no, I couldn’t do this. I had to get him outside. I crushed my teeth together and rolled off the broken mirror, then I grabbed the coat stand with trembling arms and slowly dragged myself upwards. Smoke swirled above me hypnotically but I looked away, hacking again to clear my lungs of soot. The pain in my hands and wrists flared up and I felt the tiny shards of glass pushing deeper into my flesh, but I kept on going, kept pulling until I was finally back on my feet.
I reached out to the door and jerked it open and the smoke immediately gushed out and the cool night air swept in, washing over my face. After sucking in a glorious breath, I clamped my hand over my face and staggered back to my father, still motionless at the bottom of the staircase. Quickly I hunched over and tried to grab a hold of him to drag him outside, but my fingers were suddenly useless, refusing to grip. The pain was gone but my arms felt like sticks of lead and just as I was about to cry out in frustration, my legs
betrayed me too, folding up beneath me. My strength all used up, I collapsed over father. Darkness came, too insistent this time to blink away. I whispered to him that he had nothing to worry about, then I drifted away.
Nine (Katherine)
I stood by the window and watched the spooky orange glow which lit up the sky, just beyond the trees. I’d seen this before, one other time. The clouds had glimmered like that when the English soldiers first came, when the town had burned all night long. That time the glow was so bright that it almost felt like daytime. I remembered standing up on the cliffs and seeing clear across town, from one end to the other, at some time just after midnight.
“Something bad’s happening,” I whispered to Katz, who was curled up by my feet. He didn’t budge, lazy dog. Probably dreaming about squirrels. I left him to it and went down to the basement, taking the torch that Captain King let me keep as a prize. It was much better than the candle, really powerful. I followed its white hot beam to my treasure chest and kneeled in front of it, pushing back the lid. The gun was sat on top of the pile and I carefully lifted it out with both hands. I still hadn’t built up the courage to try it out, but I felt better just knowing that it was here if I needed it.
Tonight, I took the gun upstairs and slept with it on the windowsill beside me.
Ten (Terry)
I’ll give this to the krauts. They know how to throw a fucking good bonfire.
When word spread about the show, most of the squad came stumbling down with their whiskey and wine to gawp at the spectacle. King, being his usual superhero suck-up self, decided to pitch in with the utterly helpless firefighting operation. Got to admit, their efforts weren’t completely pointless. The mere sight of two dozen idiots running around like their arses were burning, desperately trying to put out a raging fifty-foot fire with a bunch of flimsy hoses, was probably the funniest thing I’ve seen since I signed up. A striking victory for morale.
In well under half an hour, about seven or eight houses in a row had burned into cinders. The cretins managed to actually get their act together and work as a team and they didn’t give up until the flames finally died down. Then everyone, soldiers and locals alike, stood around staring at the remains and shuffling their feet awkwardly. I was just glad that Mick was laid up in the infirmary. If he’d seen what had happened, he’d have flipped out big time.
For a while I sat there, inhaling those gorgeous smoky vapours and the bitter tang of burned wood, until King and Shaw came across to spoil my mood. Shaw was wearing his usual cross-eyed scowl and King looked as put-out as ever. I smiled up at them as they hovered over me.
“Greetings, chaps,” I said and immediately Shaw piped up.
“Didn’t feel like helping out?” He fixed his grim look on me and I shrugged.
“Looked like you had it all under control,” I replied. “Anyway, thought I’d been signed up for police work, not fireman duties.” Shaw snorted.
“It’s called being a human, shit head.” He started to do the whole finger-wagging thing, but King cut him off.
“I’m going to help the doc get the wounded back to infirmary,” King said and he nodded at me. “I need you to question everyone in the area, see if you can find out what started the fire. Alright?”
“I guess so.” I sighed and eased myself up, straightening my jacket and brushing the dirt from my trousers. “Better crack on, then.”
“Pair up with Shaw,” King said and both me and the souse shot him a filthy look. “Is there a problem?” he fired back and I had to bite my bloody tongue.
“Course not,” I said, “sounds like a wonderful idea.” I glared at Shaw, then started towards the gathered crowd without waiting for him.
You wouldn’t have to be a psychic to predict how useful the locals were with our inquiries. If they actually bothered to reply, it was either with one-word answers, or usually just grunts. Most of them just shook their heads and fucked off. Still, it didn’t really bother me too much, partly because I’d expected it and partly because the cold front was really getting on Shaw’s tits. After the twentieth brush-off, he even started muttering under his breath. I had to clench my jaw to keep from breaking out in a massive grin.
“Looks like we’re stuck in the town of the blind,” I said to him with a cheery tone as we walked through the masses, searching for someone who hadn’t ignored us already. “No one ever sees a thing.”
“Thankless task,” Shaw grunted back, letting out a bitter sigh. He stopped on the spot and shook his head. “The hell with it, let’s go to the infirmary, speak with some of the wounded. Maybe they’ll be a bit more open to helping out.”
We could’ve walked to the infirmary in about ten minutes, but there were plenty of waiting trucks so we hopped a ride and made it there in less than two. If I’d been alone I’d have just walked it, but with the unwanted company I was grateful for the ride. Who knows, the soft prick might’ve tried to make conversation if we’d sauntered over together, straighten out our difference or some bollocks. When we reached the cold grey building, all of the lights were on and a huddle of five fellas were stood by the entrance, smoking and passing a bottle. I recognised one of them, Moss, a mental bastard from Wigan. He came across as a bit of a toff, but he was only too happy to jump into a ruck. I’d seen him take down three krauts in about ten seconds using just his bayonet. One unlucky fucker even got it right through his balls. Moss was going to just let him bleed out, until this young lad called Jimmy Day saw pity on the twat and put a bullet in his ear. Moss had to do the same to Jimmy about three days later, when the lad got pinned down by a collapsing ceiling. I’d never seen anything like that mess. Jimmy was completely gone, right up to his ribcage. Everything below that was just mush, trapped beneath this enormous slab of concrete, but the poor bastard was somehow still alive and fully conscious. He’d gone numb at least, but he knew what was coming. He kept on crying for his mother and begging us to pull him out, until Moss couldn’t take it anymore. I’d have done it myself if he’d left it any longer.
“Alright, Moss,” I said as we brushed past and he flashed me a wink.
“Wighty. Heard you got transferred to detective duties. What’s the Major’s plan, have you take out every last German so there’s no one left to police?”
“All too happy to oblige,” I replied and he laughed and shook his head. Shaw stopped beside us and I almost expected him to tut and roll his eyes.
“Don’t encourage him,” he told Moss. “He’d probably do it just for a dare.”
“I’d do pretty much anything for a dare,” I said, turning to him. “Someone want to dare me to break this fella’s face?” There was a murmur of laughter behind me and Shaw fixed his usual glare on me.
“I’ve got a dare for you,” he said with a sniff. “I dare you to go lie down in the middle of the road, until a truck runs over that melon head of yours.” Another rumble of chuckles erupted from the huddle and even I cracked a smile at that one. Fair play to the lad, he had some balls. Of course, I still had a deep desire to rip his sack off and shove it straight down his fucking throat. I would’ve shot right back with a few more choice obscenities, but he turned and buggered off into the infirmary before I even opened my gob, so I just turned and smiled at Moss instead.
“Tetchy little bastard needs his diaper changing. Be right back.”
I caught up with the dour bastard in the corridor, packed out with what I guessed were relatives of the wounded buggers inside. We squeezed through the gathering, catching either hacky or terrified looks from the lot of them. I guessed that the rumours of a soldier offing that girl had spread around the whole town by now. We might’ve been looked at like dog shit these past few weeks, but now we were the biggest flaming heap of dung imaginable. Might as well be wearing swastikas and carting their children off to death camps.
“By the way,” I called out to Shaw as we side-stepped through a gaggle of women, “always meant to ask. How’d you lose those two fingers? Some kind of unfortunate wiping
accident?”
“Nope,” he hollered back over the chatter of the crowds. “Happened when I was fooling around with your mum. Her cunt was so cold, I got frostbite. Good thing I tried my fingers first.” Again, the prick got me to grin. Not bad, Shaw. Not bad.
“I thought you’d be the kind of stiff, uppity twat that was above making mother jokes. Guess you’re even sicker than I thought.”
The doc’s workroom was just as packed with sweating, shaking bodies as the hallway. Most of the patients were sat around or slumped against the walls as the doc scarpered between them and he already looked agitated as hell, probably because he actually had to do some fucking work. King was in the far corner, talking with one of the local men who had a bandage slung across one eye. Shaw strode over and I scanned the crowd, looking for Mick. His bed was now occupied by two sickly-looking old men, sat side-by-side on the mattress and taking it in turns to hack up phlegm into crinkled hankies, between shouting at each other over Christ-knows-what. I wondered if Mick had been discharged early to make some room, but then I spotted him hunched up in a wooden chair just behind the bed. He had his knackered leg up on a crate and a bewildered expression plastered across his face. I wandered over, intent on cheering the poor bastard up.
“How you doing, dearie,” I asked him, pulling up another crate and dropping down onto it. The mug didn’t seem too happy to see me. He was just peering around at all the injured ninnies, his head bobbing like an excited dog’s.
“What’s going on,” he asked, all timid as usual.
“Big old fire, down the west side of town. Same street we were lurking in last night.” The mention of that stretched his eyes even wider. “Don’t worry,” I told him with a grin. “I’m sure your bird’s alright. Heard some couple got burned into bacon and an old fella copped it, but that was it.” I glanced around at the ashen faces. “Shame she’s not in here, you could help nurse her back to health.”
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