Black Empire: Frostbite (BWWM Interracial Romance)

by Tia Wilson

  “Keep your voice down,” Lana said angrily through clenched teeth. “They have no way of knowing I made a copy, we continue with our plan and hide out for a few weeks before we make our next move. We have enough cash to keep us going for a few months,” she said reaching across the table for Sara's hand, “We need to stay strong, we only have each other now. Please forgive me, I admit it was a mistake making a copy.”

  Sara took her hand and gave it a weak squeeze and said, “I’m sorry for flipping out on you. I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. Don't do anything rash with the copies, maybe we can use them at some point.”

  “Blackmail?” Lana asked.

  “I don’t know. All I do know is that the video is the only thing we currently have that might get us out of this mess. Maybe we can still leak it some how. I don't know yet whats the best thing to do for us,” She said squeezing Lana's hand in reassurance, “We will get through this together.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  It took the bus less than ten minutes to clear the limits of Reykjavik city. The road wound uphill through an ancient lava field similar to the one surrounding the airport. The city sat on a wide open bay and across this shimmering deep blue expanse snow capped mountains sat. The sky above was pale blue with wisps of pulled apart cotton dotting the sky. The road snaked into a high mountain pass and in the distance the thin spidery cables of a chair lift rose from the base of the mountain to a platform high above. The winter snows were all but gone from the face of the mountain save for a few grey white patches still clinging to the underside of large boulders that never felt any direct sunlight.

  Sara dozed with her head on Lana's shoulder who looked out at the changing landscape as Reykjavik faded farther and farther into the distance. Lana imagined how inhospitable this landscape must of been hundreds of years ago. The endless fields of jagged volcanic rock making any kind of progress slow and dangerous. Hardly anything grew in the thin layer of sandy volcanic soil. The only thing that seemed to be able to eke out some life were the patches of iridescent green mosses that clung to the undersides of some of the larger boulders. Lana marvelled at what life must of been like in a land shaped by the catastrophic and unstoppable power of a volcano. The landscape was unchanging as the bus accelerated up a steep hill and then they crested and the view opened up before her. The road ahead curved steeply down into a wide open area of fertile land. The grey sea banded the land on the right and high mountains stood in silent guard on the left. Houses dotted this wide open expanse and Lana could see spirals of steam rise up from the ground in several spots.

  Lana gripped the arm of her chair as the bus took the tightly curved road that eventually lead to the bottom of the wide open valley below. In her mind she imagined the brakes on the bus failing and the bus careening through the barrier like it was made of paper and then falling,falling,falling to the fields below. Every time the bus banked into a turn she thought this is it, this is the end. Lana let out a relieved sigh when the road straightened out and they finally reached the bottom of the steep slope. The jagged and dangerous looking lava rocks were now replaced by wide open fields of swaying grass, bales of hay in huge cylindrical rolls drying in the sun and herds of sheep grazing near the sea. The bus passed row upon row of greenhouses which glittered in the sun like oversized jewels. Lana saw colourful flowers, tomatoes and bright red and green peppers as they sped past. The bus passed through a tiny town whose centre had a huge display of flowers arranged by the side of the road into the towns crest of arms.

  The scenery began to blur as Lana's eyelids began to slowly close. The bus jerked and Lana awoke with a jump which also roused Sara. The bus driver called out, “We are at Vik, the bus will stop for ten minutes if anyone wants to get out to stretch their legs.” He pressed a lever and the side and front door of the bus slid back on hydraulic hinges. The smell of salty sea air wafted into the bus.

  “We are here,” Lana said stretching and rubbing her eyes. She checked her watch and could see she had slept for three or four hours. Her body was stiff and her neck ached from the weird angle she had slept at, her head propped up against the window. People milled around outside the bus stretching and yawning. The sound of crashing waves could be heard coming from behind the small gas station and shop they had parked in front of.

  “Its good to be out in some fresh air,” Sara said once they got off the bus. She pointed at a small street on a tourist map she had picked up at the bus station and said, “The guesthouses are down that way.”

  Directly across the road was a campsite that was half filled with tents and a few bright white camper vans. A group of men kicked a football between them as they hooted and hollered noisily. Kids swung on a set of bright orange swings and the smell of barbecuing meat was carried on the wind. The camp site was backed by rocky cliffs dotted with white from the nesting birds.

  Lana and Sara headed towards the village. A single main road lead towards the tight cluster of brightly painted houses of red and blue that made up the centre. A grassy hill towered over the village and perched atop it was a wooden church painted bright white. A large black raven sat perched atop the pointed steeple of the bell tower, observing the world about it. They found the guesthouse easily enough and within a few minutes the polish man with one slightly lazy eye had checked them in and given them a room key. Their room was on the top floor in a converted attic space and was designed in the simple nordic style of exposed wooden beams, simple furniture and clean lines. The sloping roof was studded with three large windows that slid open to views across the town and out to the sea.

  “Wow this place is beautiful,” Lana said sliding a window open and breathing in great lungfuls of the bracing sea air.

  “Its so peaceful around here, I could get used to this,” Sara said as she lay down on her singe bed, the thick eider down duvet puffing up around her.

  Lana let out a contented sigh and rested her arms on the sill and looked out at the white tailed arctic terns swooping through the sky to snatch up beakfuls of insects. She could hear the puttering chop of a small engined boat somewhere off in the distance and the rhythmic roll of the waves. Kids laughing and playing echoed up from the street below and Icelandic pop drifted up from a radio playing close by. Lana crossed the room and slid open the windows to survey the view from this side. The church over looking the town dominated her view as well as a range of mountains directly behind it. The mountains sides bore deep scars in the soil caused by massive boulders tumbling down during another era. The mountains were topped by a thick wispy layer of clouds that looked like they could tip over the edge at any moment and engulf the town. The views from both sides of the room where equally as spectacular and Lana smiled to herself for the first time in what seemed like forever. Maybe things would work out for them after all she thought.

  “I’m going to head out for a walk and maybe pick up some snacks from that small market we passed on our way here. Do you want to join me?” She asked Sara and actually hoping that she would say no.

  Sara wriggled on the bed like a cat in a sunbeam and said, “I’m too comfy. I might catch up with you if I don't doze off first.”

  “See you later,” Lana said and left.

  Once outside Lana decided to head back to the gas station and take a footpath she had seen that lead towards the sea. The town was very quiet with nobody about as she followed the foot path back out of town. The last house on the block was a cottage painted a bright blue with a red corrugated metal roof. A man in his sixties with a floppy straw hat on and pushing a manual lawn mower looked up and waved in Lana's direction as he saw her approach.

  “Welcome to Vik,” he said in his melodic Icelandic accent. It sounded like the chirping of a high energy bird Lana thought to herself.

  “Thank you,” Lana said stopping to admire his garden. The grass was clipped short with a large weather worn bone sitting in the middle of it. “Whats the bone from?” she asked.

  “Thats a spinal bone from a whale. We were o
ff fishing in the middle of the biggest school of mackerel I had ever witnessed and this beast of a whale breached right under my boat. The boat capsized and by the grace of God myself and my crew of five survived and managed to get back to shore.”

  “What happened to the whale?” Lana asked.

  “We mounted a party to go out and kill the beast. You have to remember that while its not fashionable to kill them now, this great beast had destroyed my boat and ruined any chance of me making a livelihood for the season. There was no shortage of men in town who were more than happy to join me in the hunt. Ill spare you the bloody details. This bone you see here was my trophy after we caught and killed the great beast. The strangest part of the whole thing was I never fished another day after that, I totally lost all interest in fishing. I haven't been on a fishing boat since then and that would be nearly thirty years now. Sometimes you get a message from the sea telling you when to quit and you ignore it at your peril. Sorry for going on, thanks for indulging an old man in one of his dreary stories. My name if Jonas by the way. Where are you from?”

  “I live in New York and my family is from upstate. Im Lana by the way and your story was cool. There are not a lot of fishermen were I live, so your stories could never bore me,” she replied giving him a warm smile.

  “Well thanks for indulging me. Are you here on a vacation?”

  “I’m here with a friend, we might stay a couple of weeks to kick back and relax. We both needed a break,” she said.

  “It was good to meet you Lana, maybe I’ll see you around again. I might even bore you with another of my stories,” he said with a slight chuckle.

  Jonas repositioned his hat on his head and went back to pushing his old fashioned lawnmower, he gave Lana one last friendly nod as she headed off towards the sea. A black cat sat in the middle of the footpath absorbing as much sun as possible and it slowly turned its head and watched Lana as she approached. Lana bent down and ran her fingers through his sun warmed fur and the cat emitted a deep throaty purr. The cat rolled over exposing its plump belly and Lana gave it a scratch until it put its paw against her hand and pushed her away. Lana felt relaxed and dare she say to herself that she even felt a little happy. The town of Vik was already beginning to charm her and she had been here less than an hour. She headed towards the footpath to the beach and with each step she put her old life farther behind her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lana stood on the worn ribbon of a path that weaved towards the sea. At her back the scrub covered mountains were starting to lose definition as they became encased in a low rolling fog. The white steeple from the matchbox size church broke through the wispy confines of the fog, the only man made structure visible in the encroaching gloom. Ahead of Lana and currently blocked by a small tufty tunnock thrashed the raging grey waters of the Atlantic ocean.

  Lana crested the hill and gazed down at the black volcanic sands of the beach. Arctic terns spun and arced through the air, their rising and falling song pacing the sound of the crashing waves. Behind her the fog moved on of its own volition, a mass which desaturated everything of colour in its slow move towards the sea. The dried carcass of a small crab lay at the wash line and Lana flicked it over with the toe of her boot. To the right the beach curved gently towards a rocky cliff dotted with thousands of nesting birds, to the left the beach faded off into the oblivion of a huge cascading flow of fog, drifting like clotted cream off the edge of a bowl. Lana choose oblivion and walked towards the inviting nothingness of the fog.

  With every footstep in the soft damp sand Lana could feel herself relax a little more. This was the first time she felt like she could relax in a long time. It felt like they had done nothing but run scared and watch their backs now for the last forty eight hours. Everything had fallen apart so quickly back home, would she ever even be able to return? Lana didn't want to think about that or anything right there so she concentrated on the sound of waves and the eery whisper of the winds whistling down from the mountains. She walked on robotically trying her best to push away the horrors of the last few days. She walked on in a half daze. A smudge of charcoal in a world of drifting whiteness.

  Lana's foot sank into a shallow hole of damp sand. The shock of the cold water filling her boot snapped her out of her trudging trance. She tried to pull her foot out and her other foot began to sink below the surface with a loud sucking sound. She pushed down again to leverage herself out of the boggy hole and her legs sunk in deeper. The cloying black sand was now up to both her knees and she could feel herself getting pulled in deeper. She tried to kick her legs and it felt like she was encased in cold wet concrete. Dark brackish bubbles popped on the surface of the sand and as the cold spread up her legs Lana let out a long loud scream for help. The rapidly approaching fog seemed to swallow up her screams, folding it into the soft white peaks. Lana's skin prickled as the fog enveloped her in its ghost like veil. She shouted again at the top of her lungs, the screams of a flailing ghost heard by nothing more then birds high above the fog bank.

  Cold water shocked her as it filled her underwear and grit and dark sludgy sand flowed over the top of her belt buckle. Her skin buzzed as she twisted back and forth at the hips trying to wriggle free. The sand was now past her her stomach and the earth emitted great bellowing wet slurps as it sucked her ever deeper. She pounded on the surface, thrashing wildly about to try to get some sort of leverage. Her body felt compressed and she could feel the air being pushed out of her lungs by the weight of the sand. Her fingers scratched and reached about wildly trying to find some stability. Everywhere she grabbed she was meet with nothing more then damp shifting sand.

  She screamed again as the sand pulled her down further and covered her shoulders. Her scream came out as nothing more than a raspy whistle. The fogged rolled on, the waves crashed and the birds called.

  She stopped trashing and tilted her head back to in a vain attempt to slow her demise. Her arms were sucked beneath the surface. She felt disconnected from her body as she gave into exhaustion. She couldn't fight anymore, the heavy wet volcanic sands felt like she was encased in a metal coffin all movement restricted to the fluttering of her eyelids and the laboured crushed activity of her lungs.

  A cold sludge of sand and water flowed into her ears as she sank. The only sounds she could hear was the thud thud thud of her heart. It was faint and off in the distance as the earth swallowed her whole. The fog broke above her, a tiny moving window that allowed her to see a fleeting shock of the most vivid blue sky. She croaked out one final plea for help and then held her breath. The thud thud thudding of her heart grew louder in her ears as she sank below the surface and oblivion wrapped her in its gritty embrace.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  AS A BONUS TO MY LOYAL READERS PLEASE ENJOY THE FOLLOWING FREE NOVELLA:

  Black Squall house stood at the end of a curving tree lined road on the outskirts of London. Many years ago the well trimmed trees neatly flanked the road as you travelled towards the great house. Now most of the ancient elms stood blackened and dying, bereft of all leaves as if burnt by a rampaging flame. The once pristine road which had chips of italian marble embedded in the surface that shimmered as you passed along it, was now rutted and potholed from years of neglect. The house itself was an imposing red brick victorian structure that at one time had been a free hospital for the poor and destitute. It was rumoured that a rich and powerful man involved in the mining business had established it after he killed a young boy in an automobile accident. Wracked with guilt he set up the hospital to help people less fortunate then him. His name was to be found no were on the deeds, no ceremonial plaque was on the outside of the building bearing his name. The mysterious benefactor never revealed himself to anyone and the hospital continued to run smoothly for decades. During the sixties when it was believed that the great man had died, the hospital and its grounds were donated to the local government who took over the running of the place. The once imposing and grand building slowly began to fall into disrepair as suc
cessive governments cut budgets and slashed funding.

  At the tail end of the nicotine streaked seventies a larger more modern hospital was built in a neighbouring town and this signalled the end of Black Squall house in its current incarnation. Once again the house was put on the market and once again an unknown buyer purchased it. The building was reopened in the late eighties as a boarding house for impoverished and homeless men. The cheques for the upkeep of the building and employment of a staff continued coming but as the years rolled on they got smaller and smaller until the budget could only provide for a skeleton staff for the last ten years. The building lay mostly empty with around twenty elderly men boarding, most of whom had been there for years.