Robert was brought back into the cell later that day, which almost shattered the dynamic of what I had going with Alexia, though I was glad to see he was okay. He’d alluded to being treated somewhat better, bandaged, and fed by Mallory. In my head, I knew it wasn’t my place to say, but I felt it would make them feel a little better knowing the truth, so I pondered whether to share my knowledge that she was their mother.
We decided it was worth breaking the locks with the metal rebar, all climbing through the ventilation shaft and running out into the night. No one would think about chasing after three missing kids; what could they say? Three kids that are abused are missing? We planned to run away, get to the nearest police station and tell them everything, using our scars, bruises, and tales to bring the place down and save the other kids in the process.
There was a youthful innocence about wanting to do the right thing that made our plan seem flawless. We’d decided to wait until night fell before making a move. There was an excitement in the air, as tonight was the night it was all going to happen.
Something was different with Robert though. He critiqued our largely innocent ploy as pointless and that we’d end up like George. The light that was in the room started to flicker gently, as though the bulb was on the way out. Thankfully, I’d pilfered the lighter previously. We tried our best to judge when night had fallen, using our fatigue as a measure of sorts. Keeping each other awake by talking about what we would do when we were out. It helped get us through.
Eventually, the time came, and we were psyched. I used that as an opportunity to tell them about the first night I escaped the room and found out their true origins. It hit them hard. Robert’s silence was deafening. Eventually broken with a simple question.
“She’s known all along and let us rot here?” he asked.
I defended Mallory. I didn’t pretend to understand why but told them she was in a difficult position. Alexia seemed happy at the revelation, compared to her brother.
I exited my cell equipped with the rebar and the lighter before managing to force my way into Alexia’s cell. One down, one to go. The light in the room flickered some more and started to fade. Robert asked for the lighter and held it near his cell to illuminate the lock.
I pressed harder and harder, and nothing happened. I was struggling and didn’t feel strong enough to win, but with my sister’s encouragement and my desperate brother’s plea for freedom. Sheer willpower gave me a final gust of strength and with a final push the lock released, breaking under the pressure. We were all free; our plan was finally in motion.
I knew where I was going so I led the way. I dragged the barrel over, to give us our stepping-stone. Removing the vent cover, I hoisted myself up, arming myself with the rebar in the event we stumbled across any trouble along the way. Robert helped Alexia up just after me and before long, like secret agents, we were all crawling through the vent space, waving goodbye to our cells and the horrible smell left behind from the buckets. It felt liberating.
In a moment of shock, I realised I was missing something; my father’s watch. I refused to leave without it. It was the only link to my past, and I needed it. It had helped me through my time here.
I turned my back and whispered to them I had to go to the infirmary and get my watch. Robert protested that it was a stupid risk to take but Alexia, appreciating the sentimental value of it, discouraged his chastising.
I agreed to get the watch, come back and meet them in the main vent as it came out at the reception area. From there, we agreed to bolt out the front door. With some arm-twisting, we unanimously agreed to the plan.
I knew where I was going. I left the vent, leaving my brother and sister in it. As I pulled myself out, Alexia begged me to come back. I leaned down to see if she was okay. She kissed me innocently on the cheek and said she was proud of me and that whatever happened, she loved how brave I was.
I felt rejuvenated and alive. We were only kids but forced to grow up incredibly fast given our experiences and learnt to love and live with each other. Robert looked on, shaking his head in youthful protest at the show of affection.
I snuck through the hallway again; appreciating this would be the last time. As I crept forward and peeked around a corner, my heart jumped out of my skin and I froze. I was tapped on the shoulder and thankfully didn’t scream, just exhaled in defeat. I couldn’t alert anyone else to my presence in the event they found my brother and sister. I turned my head slowly, with the rebar in my other hand, ready to swing. I stopped myself at the realisation it was Robert.
“I’m coming to help you, it’s the least I can do for you, little brother,” he whispered.
Relief swept over me and my heart retreated into my chest. We inched through the halls together and I motioned to the maintenance cupboard. We crept in and as I crawled in to the vent to retrieve my prized possession, I couldn’t sense my brother behind me at first. Eventually, he caught up to me and ushered me forward, telling me to hurry up. The most eerily sounding alarm started to ring.
That was it, we’d been caught. I panicked, thinking it was Alexia. Who raised the alarm? Father? Did he realise we were out of our cell.
“Keep going, don’t stop,” Robert pleaded.
I grabbed the watch and Mallory’s diary and got ready to turn around.
“We can’t go back, Sebastian. We’ve got to keep moving forward.”
I froze in confusion and after being shouted at to hurry up, emerged into the infirmary. Robert followed closely behind, the alarm echoing through the halls and the orphanage. It felt as if the room was getting larger and expanding. The sound of the alarm was ringing so much in my ears I started to block it out. I panicked thinking about Alexia.
“Where is she?” I barked at Robert. He suggested she was safe in the other vent, waiting for us.
That’s when he came clean and told me what he had done. Robert had started a fire in the maintenance room, using the various oils and flammable liquids to get it going; expressing that was why he took a while to catch up to me. He told me the entire place deserved to burn and the fire would light the sky enough to draw attention from the authorities.
I told him he was stupid and that wasn’t the plan. Realising the only way was forward and the building was starting to come alive with screams, shouting, and panic, we pressed on. We had to get to Alexia and hope we could all get out together. I was furious with Robert. He put the plan at risk.
When I walked up to the door, the infirmary door was locked. We both started to panic realising we were trapped, as going back through the vent was suicide. Smoke started to follow through the vent, but I refused to give up.
All our fighting, all our planning and plotting was nearly for nothing. I started to bang on the door, furiously. The alarm was enough to drown out the banging. Robert watched from behind, with a blank face, appreciating his stupidity at this point. He pulled off his shirt and tried to cover the vent as best as he could. His bloodied bandages were visible. It was impressive that his youthful body could take such a battering and he could still stand next to me. He couldn’t cover the entire vent, but he didn’t stop trying.
We must have been in the room for a good ten minutes, trying to break our way out. It was terrifying. The entire time, I was thinking about my sister and how scared she must be. I banged harder on the door to the point my hand was throbbing in pain.
I grabbed Robert’s shirt and pulling it away made a puff of smoke enter the room, causing me to cough. I wrapped it around my hand and picked up the metal again, striking the door some more. Eventually, it started to give way and one of the panels started to come off. We started kicking the panel, finally revealing an exit route. The glow of flames could be seen through the hole. I poked my head out trying to see what was going on, when the awful alarm, screams, and banging of footsteps from scurrying bodies started to take my focus. Robert collapsed, appreciating the magnitude of what he had done.
“The screams, Sebastian. It’s my fault,” he said with
a remorseful tone. I grabbed his head by the chin, turned his head up to mine and told him that he would be damned if he didn’t get up and help me find his sister, our sister. He nodded, and we forced our way out through the small hole in the panel of the door. It was a tighter squeeze than the vent, but we made it. I went first, and as I squeezed through, the watch fell from my pocket back into the infirmary. Robert turned, grabbed it and passed it to me, smiling in the process whilst saying he had his little brother’s back.
Robert was a little bigger than me and struggled to get through the hole. I pulled at him and he screamed as his body was dragged through the wood. Eventually, he broke through the gap and we made our way down the hallway.
Staff members and children were being led out of the building, amidst screams. Selfish adults pushed by us to make it out, without little care or attention for who stood in their way. As we roamed the halls, we walked past one of the children from the dormitory, who had collapsed, possibly from smoke inhalation or from being trampled; it was difficult to tell. Their body was facing the wall, so I turned them around to see a familiar face: Erin.
I urged Robert to look for Alexia and that I would help Erin. I started to drag Erin, mustering all my might, starting to become overwhelmed by the heat of the fire. I was struggling to breathe, as flames were dancing around me. With my last ounce of strength, I pulled on Erin and everything went black.
I came to, being carried out by a man in yellow. I was fading in and out of consciousness, the ringing of the alarm occasionally breaking in and out of my auditory senses.
I snapped my eyes up to a handsome man who had given me his breathing apparatus, risking his own life to provide me air. He led me to the fire engine, shouting about where the ambulances were. My body weakly re-adjusted to what was going on, oxygen finally coursing through my body.
All I could hear were screams, echoing in the moonlight. Huge, orange flames filled the night sky as they raged uncontrollably; the blaze met the skyline without so much as making a disturbance to the vast cosmos. As peaceful as it met the night sky, it was causing anarchy on the ground.
I couldn’t be heard because I could barely breathe myself, wheezing slightly. I looked down at my blackened hands, as a paramedic raised an oxygen mask to my face. I looked up and Alexia’s small hands were hitting the glass of a window frantically at first but started to slow. I felt horrible, my sister was in mortal danger and I was doing nothing about it.
This snapshot in time would eventually become my mental genesis. That feeling of how it could have played out differently. What would have happened if I went upstairs? If I removed the flammables in the basement? Stopped the fire starting completely? This day was a living nightmare that would plague my mind and I’d re-live it constantly. I’d play it back like an old VHS where I would write a happier ending every time.
I jumped off the back of the fire engine and tried to run towards the building to help but only made it a few steps before collapsing again.
The kind soul that saved me grabbed me and told me to relax. I pointed at the window where Alexia was, and he gestured that I was a tough one. I’d battled the fire once before: I could do it again for her. Believe me, I tried but failed. My body had given up.
My arm dropped to my side, but my eyes remained fixated on the window. I felt as if Alexia looked right at me and our eyes met, despite the shroud of the smoke. I felt her love for me. I felt her fear. I felt the heat of the fires touching her soft skin, and sweet smile. Then the shroud took over and the window blew out with a crash of glass trickling like water to the ground below.
Servicemen shouted orders at one another, directing the flow of the hoses in a united front.
Like demons emerging from the fire, the last few bodies ejected themselves from the upper floors of the building. It was tough to watch them fall to the ground with an almighty thud. That also etched into my mind over the years. Dreams where I was falling constantly and couldn’t wake up. Feelings of impending doom when I was having a panic attack, my heart sinking with butterflies in my stomach as I balanced in the flaming night sky, waiting to crash to the ground.
Whatever almighty being orchestrated this evening, at least I knew they had a sense of humour. I recognised Father screaming in pain as his tibia bone protruded through his trouser leg. What karmic justice. Father’s walking stick lay next to him with the bone from his good leg pointing into the night sky. It must have been a bad landing, but he was breathing. The servicemen ignored his plight, focussing more on the children in need.
Through the smoke a serviceman carried out the lifeless body of a girl, arms and legs heavy, neck falling backwards; I looked on helplessly and watched it happen as if in slow motion. Everything went silent; I started to zone out and couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was my beautiful sister. I promised to help her. I promised to save her, and I failed. That was one of the reasons I became a perfectionist and never stop in my pursuit of doing the right thing.
A nearby nurse’s guttural scream filled the night, contending with the flames. It was Mallory. The shock of seeing her lifeless daughter obviously pushed her over the edge. The sound made me shudder. That same sound clearly hit someone else as a serviceman had pulled my brother Robert out. He looked on at his sister, lifeless, fully aware that he was the one responsible. He never uttered a word, never moved, his eyes wide open in defeat. His pain must have been unimaginable.
I closed my eyes and continued breathing deeply through the mask. I passed out.
Weeks passed, and as I was nursed back to health, I was visited in the hospital by the man that saved me. He visited every day, and his strength and bravery inspired me. I was proud to one day call him dad, the same man who would later stand next to me as I got married, Henry. The entire town, the world, was affected by what came out from Fort Rose.
My dad made a point of making sure I was never hurt again. He cared for me and his service made me decide to follow in the life of good. I was accepted into another family, as a brother, and a son.
I later found out that Mallory had Robert institutionalised, and then disappeared herself, with remnants of the staff at Fort Rose being held accountable for what they did to the children, except Cyril. Somehow, he got away, scot-free.
The pain from that part of my life subsided over time but left suitably deep scars. I dreamt of that night frequently, waking up screaming, waking up crying. I’d clutch my real father’s watch and sleep holding it tight. I always asked myself whether I was responsible. The fire started because I went looking for the watch, whereas if I’d left it, we could have run into the night.
My new parents were incredibly patient, even managing to keep the other kids calm, who were afraid of me. They were afraid because I couldn’t sleep without wetting the bed or screaming some nights. My whole family was patient with me, helping me, moulding me, and restoring my broken soul.
I grew up stronger than ever, with a passion for making sure that justice prevailed.
I grew up, swearing I would never let the damage of Fort Rose seep into my soul again.
Never would I allow myself to feel as helpless again.
Chapter Ten
The feeling going through me, the feeling of being lost took me back to that fateful night. My wife was in the arms of the devil and I was no closer to catching him. I felt like weeping, but it would do no good. I thought about the comfort of my biological mother’s touch, caressing my head, as well as a tentative Mallory, tending my aches and pains.
Then I thought about the comfort my wife brought me and it brought me full circle. I thought back to the youthful innocence I had as a child, that was slowly, but surely, chipping away at me throughout my years; then I compared it to now.
Part of me wished I was a child again, as even though I lived amongst demons and predators, I never truly understood the gravity of the situation. I knew I was in danger, but how much danger, it was too great for my young mind to comprehend.
Now, I knew the ramifi
cations of my failure to catch Arthur, the finite possibility of a future without my wife. My anxiety started to flare up, I felt dread. I ran every possible scenario through my head except the one that would actually make a difference, the positive outcome.
I felt a creeping loneliness washing over me. Michael wasn’t anywhere to be seen despite his offer of support; perhaps he was scared off by Arthur’s latest move. I didn’t hold it against him. Like my younger self, I was shouldering the burden of the situation upon my own shoulders, though the sheer weight was dragging me down. Like Atlas holding the world, I felt powerless.
Wait.
Atlas? The titan that was condemned to hold us to the celestial heavens, often pictured as holding the world. A penny in my darkened thoughts dropped. I thought about Atlas. I thought about the clues and the riddles and enshrouded in solitude, felt a spark of hope. Re-energised with my mind giving me a clue. I had to find what everything meant. From the lucid dream, to the riddles and clues, it all had to tie together into a nicely wrapped package. One that could blow up in my face.
I lifted my head up from my dining table and took in the view of my work. It felt quite pointless. Days, weeks, maybe even months of time poured into finding Arthur Henderson, and I was always behind the curve, never ahead of it, and now my wife was in danger. I had enjoyed my job, up until now, protecting those that deserved it.
It took a long time for the scars of my childhood to heal, though in the space of about thirty-six hours, Arthur stuck a knife in them and made my mind enter that terrible place again. I wished Henry were still with me, I could use his support right about now, or even his wife Isabella. Both were no longer with this world, but two shining stars that burned brighter than one hundred suns.
Those people were living, breathing angels, I’m certain of it. I remembered how proud they were of me as I graduated from the Police Academy and when I got my first detective’s badge, Henry and I celebrated with one too many drinks, much to Isabella’s distaste. Despite everything, she still thought that one night was enough to be a bad influence on me.
Dancing With Devils Page 19
