Studying the woman who leaned in over her, Blaire curved her chapped lips into a cryptic smile. Her mother did not look as she remembered her, but Blaire was sure that it was her. Settling comfortably in the woman’s arms, Blaire studied her with wild, dreaming eyes. Through her mother’s orbs two brilliant beams of light poured into Blaire, and she was comforted and warmed. All she saw through the tiny snowflakes that fell into her face was her mother’s gray outline against the black sky. Her mother’s gray skin illuminated in one place, and then in another, smoldering like ambers in a fire, savoring each glorious glow, her divine spirit sparking back to life.
“Mom,” Blaire called.
A strangely masculine voice responded, one that filled Blaire with an ease like being submerged in a warm bath, “You have done the right thing.”
“No,” Blaire cried.
“You did. You always do,” the voice said, enveloping her.
“Mm…Mom?” she called again, hardly able to formulate words as the stringent cold took root in her throat. The mother sucked the warmth from her child in one deep breath, and Blaire was suddenly freezing and shivering violently.
“It’s time to get up now.”
“But mom, I hurt.”
“Pain is good; it means you’re still alive. Just a little longer.” Her mother sang, “Go!”
A slicing squeal erupted from St. Sebastian shocking Blaire back into a groggy consciousness, and the blur in her eyes cleared. She was able to focus on the towering building, as another scream cut through the air, catapulting Blaire into full awareness.
It was hot, and her hair was slicked against her forehead with sweat. Once again she heard the explosion that caused her parent’s car to burst into flames, and it was so loud that for several moments all she could hear was a distant, incessant ringing in her ears. Her mother’s screams haunted everyone listening as she burned. Within seconds, her mother was no longer recognizable nor was her screaming, which was now just long, agonizing wails like that of a large and wounded animal somewhere deep in the forest. Blaire would swear that in all of the woman’s agony, she heard her mother yell out for her.
BLAIRE!
The scene of the accident burst into life with alarming sound that assaulted Blaire from every angle. Dangerously close, the noise grew, blaring sirens, people gathering, talking and screaming, the flames hissing, but louder than all was the silence that now came from inside the incinerating car. Through the tornado of flames, Blaire had witnessed her mother’s heavy movements cease altogether, and her low growling moan had finally melted into complete peace. Blaire was almost glad that her mother was finally dead, and that she was no longer forced to listen to the excruciating soundtrack of slow, agonizing death.
You have done the right thing, Blaire could still hear her mother’s voice. You always do.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Another scream from St. Sebastian propelled Blaire to her feet, and suddenly her legs were moving. Hot blood was rushing through her veins trying to find its way back to every limb of her body, warming her again as if the fire had followed her out of the dream.
Blaire made tracks across the yard, leaving the stone statue of the Virgin Mary behind to fade away in the deadly white blur.
As Blaire ascended the front porch steps, she began patting her coat in search of the keys. In its natural state of absolute fierceness, the cold had numbed her fingers and frozen her face, making it difficult to search. Blaire cursed at the thought of possibly having lost the keys in the snow. She gasped when she located them, they had fallen deep down into a pit of the coat through a hole in one of the pockets. Quickly, she unlocked the door and slipped inside, finally collapsing to the floor. Allowing the frost to melt from her pain-ridden body, she lay in the empty foyer, just breathing.
The building was alive with clandestine movement. Children were crisscrossing the halls, running, playing and crying. Blaire made fists with her hands and then released them. She moved her legs and her feet. The actions caused a wave of relief to flood her, as she realized that the bitter battle with the cold had not caused any prolonged damage.
“Anya,” Blaire called out as she grappled to her feet, stumbling down the hall, ripping off the outerwear that made movement difficult.
The light in Marko’s office was on. Anya was standing over his desk with the phone in her hand.
“Anya,” Blaire called to the woman, who yelled out in surprise as she whipped around to face Blaire. Anya’s terror-filled expression melted into one of relief at the sight of her friend. Blood was dripping from Anya’s hairline.
“It’s okay. It’s just me.”
“The phone’s dead.”
“I figured.”
“It’s Natalka.”
“I know.” Blaire said.
“I knew too.”
“What?”
“I knew, but I just didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t know that children, little children, could be capable of such a thing. Her mother was ill, and she was suspected of drowning Natalka’s two younger twin brothers a year before Natalka was brought here. Their drowning was considered an accident, but her husband knew she did it. One of the reasons that Natalka’s father brought her here was because he was afraid that her mother was going to go after her next. Even when Natalka was brought here, her mother still saw the boys and talked to them.”
“What was the other reason?”
Anya hesitated.
“Anya!”
“Because Natalka saw them too. Neither she nor her mother ever accepted the death of the boys and continued on as if they were still alive. They still saw them, spoke to them and all, and her father was afraid that she was becoming like his wife.”
“How could you not tell us this? You let her hurt Travis!” Blaire shouted.
“I didn’t know! I swear I thought that Travis was an accident. I never really believed that she could harm anyone. When you were gone, she came into the boy’s room where we were hiding, picked the lock and attacked me. We thought we were protecting her. I’m sorry, Blaire. I never thought anything like this would happen.”
“It’s okay, Anya. We just have to hold it together until we can get out of here with Travis and the kids.”
“Marko…” Anya stuttered.
Blaire simply shook her head in response. “Where’s Natalka?”
“I don’t know. Once I fought her off, the children scattered. I couldn’t gather them. I thought of the phone, and I ran down here.”
“Where’s Ivan? Did you see Ivan?”
“No. What are we going to do?”
“We have to find her,” Blaire said as she grabbed Anya by the wrist and dashed back into the hall. “Gather the children as best you can and get them back in the room.”
“They’re everywhere. I can’t,” Anya cried, wiping a mass of blood-soaked hair from her face in one messy swipe.
“Look, Anya, it’s only you and me now, and we have to protect the other children. Try to gather as many children as you can and lock yourselves in the boy’s room; push the dresser in front of the door. I need to check on Travis and I have to try to find Ivan. Once you gather up the kids and I get Travis, I will come to you.”
“I’m scared,” Anya revealed.
“So am I, but we have no choice. Be careful and I will come to you soon, okay?” Blaire said, but the woman still seemed dazed.
“ANYA!” she yelled trying to jolt the young worker from her confused state. A stunned Anya nodded in compliance.
“I will be there soon,” Blaire said as she slipped into the dark hall.
The laughter of children haunted the oversized building. “Dream a Little Dream” burped back to life on the record player in the playroom, loud and intrusive as if the walls themselves pumped the music into the air like speakers.
Blaire crept up the stairs, and on the second landing, there was a small figure in the shadows. She gasped and stepped down as the shadow moved closer and into a stream of moonlight.
> “Bo!” she cried in relief. “Bo, are you okay?” The boy nodded. “Have you seen Ivan or Natalka?”
The boy shook his head to indicate that he hadn’t. She grabbed his hand and hurried down the hall where she ran into another child, and also took him by the hand. Blaire led both children to the boys’ room and placed them in the closet.
“Stay here,” Blaire instructed. “Do not come out, no matter what until I come back for you, okay?”
“And whatever you do, if you see Natalka, you run,” Blaire commanded before she closed the door.
Blaire thought of Travis, knowing she had to hide him. She raced back down the stairs and burst into Travis’ office, all white and clean and smelling of disinfectant.
“Bingo,” she whispered.
Blaire pushed the wheelchair out of the office and down the hall to the elevator, pushing it under the sheath, she then stepped inside in a miserable attempt to conceal herself. Blaire pressed the button with the faint hope that Latif had gotten the elevator fixed before he fled with her valuables. A guttural rumbling began in the shaft. Under the sheath was a small makeshift table, which displayed a buffet of tools: a hammer, a wrench, and a pipe among some other implements that she didn’t recognize. Blaire caressed the cool metal surfaces of all of them and settled on the pipe, which was easy to hold but still offered some weight.
Somewhere in the distance, Anya’s voice bounced off the walls and Blaire was tense with anticipation. The elevator gave a gruff belch and the doors strained to open, releasing the stale, yellow emergency light. Blaire jumped into the cage and pressed three until the doors closed. The elevator coughed and rattled all the way up to the third floor where the doors drew open to a cold hallway. Her body was trembling. Hurriedly, she exited the elevator, pushing the wheelchair toward her room. The door was slightly ajar, causing her stomach to churn more intensely. Cautiously, she pushed the door open and stepped inside to find that Travis was okay. Blaire turned and opened the closet door wielding her pipe, but it was empty. After locking the bedroom door, she went to Travis whose skin was almost translucent. She bent to listen to his breath which was shallower than ever.
Blaire laid the pipe on the bed and began pulling his limp body into the wheelchair, struggling with his upper body to fit him properly into the seat. Finally, she placed his feet onto the pedals.
“Here we go,” she said with ragged breath, as she shoved the pipe into the seat behind Travis and pushed him out into the hall.
It was quiet as she started toward the elevator. Blaire pressed the elevator button repeatedly while keeping a close watch on everything in the hallway. Outside the window at the end of the hall, the snow continued to fall peacefully as if nothing bad was happening anywhere in the world. Blaire heard the elevator moving laboriously up the shaft, and she was terrified that the noise would be heard by whoever or whatever was watching and waiting. Blaire jumped at the sound of the dresser screeching across the floor in room 3C.
“No, no, no, no, no, no…” Blaire chanted to herself in a whisper.
Something in the room began humming, softly at first and then louder. Blaire grabbed the pipe in one hand and pressed the elevator button frantically with the other as a slow whine erupted from her throat. In 3C, footsteps crossed the floor and stopped just in front of the door. Blaire was barely breathing when the doorknob turned, and the door began to open with a creak.
Just as Blaire lifted the pipe, the elevator door sprang open, and she clamored inside, pulling the wheelchair in after her.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Blaire instructed the elevator, as she pressed the first floor button four times before the doors decided, after much wavering, that they would close. The light in the elevator began to flicker, and Blaire held the pipe close to her chest as the antiquated machine shook and burped its way down the shaft. It hiccupped and stopped just below the second floor.
“Move, move, move!” she said, hoping to will the machine into action as she pressed the first floor button several more times.
“Ms. Blaire…” Natalka’s recognizable voice called to her from the second floor, where she was standing just outside the elevator doors. Blaire gulped and stepped back until she was pressed firmly against the far wall of the elevator, her chest pumping rapidly.
“Ms. Blaire, are you in there?” the soft voice goaded.
Blaire pressed herself even further into the wall, hoping to disappear into the cold, dark metal. She wished Travis would just wake up, wake up and save her. Blaire cupped her hands over her mouth to keep her cries from spilling out. Two armies of tears charged down her cheeks.
“Ms. Blaire, I know you’re in there.”
Blaire tried to quiet every movement of her body inside and out.
“I can hear you breathing!” Natalka’s voice disintegrated from a sweet song into a demonic calling, deep in tone and by the end of the utterance, it was dripping with resentment at the fact that Blaire was still breathing. Blaire screamed at the demonic growls that then exploded from Natalka, as she began trying to pry the steel doors apart with her little painted fingernails. Blaire beat at the meddling fingers with her weapon, but the pipe was big and long, allowing the small fingers to escape the blows. Blaire patted her body and found her lighter in her pocket. She placed one foot on each arm of Travis’ wheelchair and hoisted herself toward the top of the elevator doors where she held out the flame. The chair shifted under her causing her to lose her balance and the blaze. She lit it again as she watched the fingers working diligently to wedge open the doors. Now there was more space in the entrance, almost enough for Blaire to see out, but she had no desire to see what was just on the other side. Blaire hit the first floor button several times, and then went to reignite the lighter. When the flame was close to Natalka’s fingers, she held it as steady as her shaking body would allow. Suddenly the young girl felt the red hot sting of the fire and withdrew her meddling fingers in haste. Blaire saw the greasy, black hair whip backward, and she caught a glimpse of the blood shot eye of the wild girl before she was gone. Becoming completely unsteady on the wheelchair in the commotion, Blaire wobbled and fell, hitting the elevator floor.
“Ouch! Ms. Baker that hurt me,” Natalka said in a baby’s voice. Blaire heard a foot step lightly onto the top of the elevator.
“No…” Blaire said to herself as she looked up at the square door in the roof of the elevator car. Natalka was going to come in through the top, and there was nothing that Blaire could do about it.
“Why would you want to hurt me?” she said, as her footsteps walked circles over Blaire’s head.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Natalka. I just want you to stop, okay?” Blaire began to hear something other than Natalka’s voice in the background, as a soft humming permeated the walls of the elevator.
“Well, I just want to play with you. Kind of like a cat plays with a mouse.” Natalka’s baby voice giggled.
“Stop, Natalka!”
“Hmm, I might, but only if you say please.”
“PLEASE!” Blaire screamed through her sobs.
“Pretty please….” the baby voice instructed her.
“PRETTY PLEASE!” Blaire screamed again, and suddenly the footsteps that were pacing the top of the elevator stopped.
Blaire looked up…and she waited.
“Sorry!” the baby voice sang as it turned deep and haunting once again. A tremendous thrashing exploded as if an animal was ripping the top of the elevator to pieces. Blaire shrank to the floor, putting her arms over her head for protection. In the next moment, the humming was loud and strong, and the commotion ended abruptly.
“Not you again,” Natalka said, speaking to someone else.
Blaire reached up and punched the first floor button, and the elevator shook to life and began its rumbling movement once again.
“Ah, yes!” Blaire cried out in joy, jumping up and down with a delirious glee that despite the small victory was entirely out of touch with her reality. “Yes, yes, yes!
Ha, ha!” she said, laughing as the elevator jerked and shifted down the shaft until it landed grumpily on the first floor. Blaire gripped the pipe like a baseball bat as the doors opened. Her chest was heaving up and down as she placed one foot outside the elevator, moved the sheath, and reviewed the empty corridor. Blaire grabbed the wheelchair and bolted out into the hall, so quickly that she failed to notice the hammer missing from the work table. Blaire was almost at the door of Travis’ office when she realized someone was watching her. At the end of the hall was a small silhouette of a person, who signaled to her with a flashlight that blinked on and off.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
“Ivan,” Blaire called out.
“Shhhh,” the boy warned as he waved her toward him.
“Ivan, come here,” Blaire said.
She stood and watched him, but he didn’t move toward her. He extended his arm again and motioned for her to come to him. He was a ghost of a boy, summoning her. She wasn’t sure why, but she trusted Ivan and began wheeling Travis in the boy’s direction. As she got closer, she could see a large patch of fresh blood on the right shoulder of the ragged white gown that he was wearing. Just as Blaire approached Ivan, he disappeared down the next corridor. Blaire came to the corner and peered down the hall where Ivan stood waving her into the cafeteria. Blaire pushed Travis down the hall, through the double doors of the cafeteria and into the kitchen.
“Ivan,” she whispered frantically. A light flashed in front of her, and she held up her arm to shield her eyes. Ivan signaled for her to come, deeper inside, before disappearing into his surroundings once again. Blaire crept toward the back of the kitchen, pushing Travis along. She maneuvered the wheelchair around a corner just in time to see Ivan pushing a set of rolling metal shelves from in front of something.
“An elevator?” Blaire whispered. She knew of no elevator shafts on this side of the building.
“Where does it go?” Blaire asked.
“He will be safe in the basement,” Ivan said.
The Unwanted (Black Water Tales Book 2) Page 26
