Into the Fire (The Mieshka Files, Book One)

by K. Gorman

  The first few flashlights bobbed into view, the distance turning them into pinpricks. Her heart jumped, but she forced herself to look. Two hundred metres away, she gauged. By the swing of their lights, she guessed they were walking.

  She eased herself down the escalator. Her hand trembled on the vinyl railing, toes feeling each step. Halfway down, the echoes caught up to her.

  The shouting had stopped, which worried her. These voices spoke quietly to each other, indistinct in their echoes. She kept going, forcing each step down into the dark. At the bottom, she turned to follow the bulk of the escalator back.

  When that ended, she held her breath and struck out into the dark. She angled toward where she thought the stores to be, listening. The voices were clearer now. They came closer with each step. Debris skittered away from her foot, hitting something just ahead of her. She reached out a hand.

  Her fingertips bumped into smooth concrete as the first flashlight swept over the scene. The edge of the upper floor was silhouetted against it, giving her hiding spot a hefty overhang. Two pairs of footsteps walked above her.

  “Did you hear something?”

  She cowered into what she guessed was a support pillar. She followed their footsteps on the ceiling, suddenly glad for the darkness.

  “She can’t have gone far.”

  “True.” The flashlight swept across the floor above, briefly illuminating a sagging banner on the railings. Two men walked into her view, trailing the guard rail. She slunk back, putting the pillar between them. Where were the rest?

  “Yeah, but you heard them talking. She has magic.”

  “Magic does not help her find her way.” Roger walked out of the dark as the two men jumped. She’d jumped, too. Through the pain, she hadn’t even noticed the tingling in her hand. She jammed the glowing mark into her pocket. “And if she knew how, she would have used it by now. It’s possible she is hiding, but more probable that she is lost.”

  That seemed to describe her fairly well.

  “Can’t you sense her? You have magic, right?”

  She paid close attention. The transfer mark linked them together. He’d helped her earlier. Was he a friend?

  Roger did not speak. In that silence, he said a lot of things.

  She saw one man take a step back from him. It seemed an unconscious decision. She was tempted to do that, too.

  “Magic does not work that way.” He said finally, gazing out over the space beyond the rail.

  “When you find her, don’t hurt her. I want to talk to her.”

  Mieshka shivered.

  The other men turned around to go. She relaxed. Roger did not go with them.

  Had he lied? Could he feel her through the transfer link?

  Just before the men’s light faded, his gaze passed right through where she stood.

  She cowered against the support, her raw skin unhappy with its surface. He couldn’t have seen her. It was way too dark where she stood.

  Was it a coincidence?

  As the men’s footsteps departed, she listened for a third set.

  It didn’t come. Either the man was inhumanly quiet, or he still stood there.

  She pressed her forehead against the cool concrete of the pillar. The darkness closed in around her. Those men had caught up with her, but where had the others gone? Short-cuts? Roger had walked out of the dark. Were the others in the dark with him? Her imagination produced a helpful image of them all crowding in the dark, leading with their guns.

  She tensed her jaw against the panic, shaking quietly against the pillar. She counted, mouthing each number. Focusing on calming her breath. After two minutes, she opened her eyes again. Not that it made a difference in the dark.

  She was her mother’s daughter, she reminded herself. Her mother would not be clinging to some post like a wuss. Her mother would march boldly into the dark, unafraid.

  But Mieshka was only her daughter, so she ventured a little less boldly.

  She was three steps out when a light popped on. She froze. Roger was still there. As she watched, he took the penlight and moved on after the two men.

  She stared at him. Should she call after him? He'd told her to run before, did that mean he couldn't protect her? Why had he waited?

  The darkness silenced her. And all the people that might be in it, hiding like her. Soon, the why did not matter. He was gone.

  She turned back to the darkness. Her cell phone could be used as a light, but she’d try without. As Roger had just demonstrated, having the only light in a dark place made oneself into a beacon.

  So she angled toward the wall, where she could follow the shops. She wanted to find another, more distant escalator before she tried her cell-phone plan.

  ***

  Chris edged away from the breaker panel, listening for movement in the dark. His hand trailed along the wall beside him. He stopped when he came to the door.

  He had done this before. It wasn’t hard. Squinting into the dark, he wished he hadn’t given Meese his only flashlight. The panel was two floors down, wedged between a storage room and the furnace. It had taken him a few minutes to get there.

  Now he had to move. He wasn’t the only one who knew where the electrical room was.

  He turned his head to the left, considering his options. They were few.

  Hide or run.

  He went over the route in his mind. The stairs were easy. He could follow the railings. Two flights up, and he could break away on the first floor of the mall. If he got lucky and beat the mob to the second floor, he could bypass them onto the third floor. Nobody looked up in a search.

  It all depended on how fast they figured it out. If they fiddled around with the second-floor plug for a while, he’d be home free. If one of them knew where the circuit panel was…

  He straightened up. He’d done this before.

  He ran, taking the stairs two at a time. On the landing, he paused and listened, eyes straining upwards for any light.

  Nothing. He slowed at the first floor landing. Break out here or risk the third floor?

  Third floor was the better option.

  As he took the first step, the service door slammed open on the second floor. He froze. A flashlight beam swept across the cinder blocks on the opposite wall.

  Inwardly, he swore. He should have hidden. Now he was caught. If he opened the door, it would make a noise.

  He retreated back down the stairs, trying to be quiet.

  They were faster. Soon, the light swept on him.

  “Breaker box, eh? Get him.”

  He ran.

  ***

  Mieshka shivered. After stumbling in the dark, her sweat had gone cold.

  She started to worry.

  The mall was endless. She’d adopted a half-jog on the debris-littered, peeling linoleum. Thrice, she ran into things and pulled her cell phone out for light. Twice it had been old desks or displays, overturned and full of cigarette butts and empty bottles. The third time, mannequins posed tall in front of her, the light gleaming off their bone-china skin.

  Maybe that’s when the fear had returned.

  She slumped miserably on, her left hand trailing the walls and window displays. She hadn’t heard anything for a long time. Maybe it was time to move up. She’d have to go to the top if her half-assed plan had any chance.

  She looked toward the middle of the mall. Nothing but darkness. Her fingertip bumped against a crack in the window. Before she could think, a sharp pain snatched it away from the window.

  She choked off her initial yelp into a hiss as she curled her hand to her chest.

  Right. Not all windows down here were whole. She turned her wrist so her palm faced her chest. One-handed, she slid her phone from her pocket, unlocked its screen, and held it above her hand.

  Ah. It probably looked worse than it was. There weren’t any major arteries in fingers, were there?

  She squinted at it. There was a lot of blood. All her Kleenexes were in her backpack. At school. Next time, s
he’d be prepared.

  Next time? Was she really considering a next time?

  It must have been the endorphines.

  After thirty seconds, the cell phone display timed out. She should have tried to find the light she’d lost. It probably hadn’t been too far from where she’d hid.

  Then again, those men had also not been far from where she’d hidden.

  She shivered again—not because of the cold—and looked into the dark around her, seeing nothing but blackness and retinal burn.

  Fuck it. She’d use the light.

  The cell phone was no replacement for the flashlight she’d lost. Its light was anaemic. Rubble-strewn linoleum spread around her. A quick look at the glass told her she’d gotten off easy. And, as she looked around, she realized just how lucky she’d been. Not ten feet ahead, shining in the wan light, two hypodermic needles lay on the floor. There was a dark stain near them.

  She cringed from the sight and wandered away from the wall. The escalators had been in the middle, right? She listened carefully. It was too quiet down here.

  A support beam ghosted out of the dark, decorated with a thin red ribbon. Behind it, a mannequin’s head lay on its side. Someone had drawn a moustache on its upper lip.

  She followed a line of benches, sales stands, and children’s rides, swiping a finger across her phone whenever the screen dimmed.

  After a few minutes, the escalator sloped down out of the gloom. She stepped up it, cringing quietly when her sneakers clanged against the metal. Halfway up, she let the phone time out. As she emerged on the second floor, she looked for lights in the dark.

  None. Excellent. Although slightly less excellent since she didn’t know exactly where they were. Far away, she hoped. She turned left and considered the next escalator.

  How far did this mall go up, anyway?

  She swung up it. The cut stung as she bumped her bad hand against the rail. Blood smeared on the vinyl. Her sneakers tapped her way up. Her thighs were weak. They’d started to burn on the first flight. A sense of height grew, the darkness deepening the space around her. She held her phone to her chest. She could not afford to lose that over the side.

  Another escalator sat, unmoving, at the top. She climbed that one, too

  Two storeys later, there were no more escalators. The ceiling curved overhead in a slow arch. Strong enough to stand, even with a city on top of it. Plywood covered what might have been skylights. The sky here wasn’t much to look at, she supposed.

  Just as she looked for a table to stand on, with the thought that maybe another metre would matter to her reception, her phone blooped.

  She cringed again. It was loud. She even thought she heard it echo.

  It continued to bloop as several text messages came in, all at once. She smothered it against her shirt.

  Which was silly. She’d be talking on it next.

  After several tense moments of silence, she un-smothered it, searched her contacts, considered who to call. Mo’s card was in her pocket. Could he get there faster?

  No, the mob had probably swamped his place by now.

  Aiden answered on the third ring.

  “Hello.”

  “It’s Mieshka.”

  There was a pause. She thought she could hear something in the background. People, perhaps?

  “Oh good, I’ve been hoping to talk to you. Something’s come up. Can I convince you to come in? There’s something I think you can help with.”

  Hysteria bubbled up. She almost giggled. The conversation sounded so normal.

  “Mieshka?”

  She swallowed. Her voice sounded thin. “I’m Underground, hiding in a dark shopping mall with a mob of angry people after me.”

  He was quiet. She snapped her head toward the escalator. Had she heard something?

  “Your people skills are astounding. Where did you say you were?”

  “Shopping mall. I’m on the top floor.”

  She was fixed on the dark. She had started to shake again. She couldn’t see anything.

  “Good thing I put a tracking spell on you. I’ll be right there. Are you safe?”

  She strained to hear. There was definitely something moving. Footsteps. In the dark.

  “Someone’s coming.” It felt good to tell someone. He would take care of it. No more bumbling blindly.

  Metaphorically, anyway.

  “What kind of someone? Have they seen you?”

  “I’m the only one talking in this place. They’ll find me.”

  “Right. Well, hide. I’ll be there soon.”

  Just before he hung up, she heard him say, “Right, you two—”

  Click.

  And then she was back to the darkness again. Not quite alone. Over the lip of the railing, she saw a flash of light.

  CHAPTER 9

  The flashlight illuminated the dirty, streaked Plexiglas. By its steep angle, it must have been fairly far down. The second floor, probably. It seemed to see the most action. Mieshka was on the fifth. A distant tapping filled the distance. Footsteps.

  She sucked in a breath of dusty air and forced herself to turn away. Using the thin light of her phone, she skulked closer to the storefronts. Shadows bent away from her light. Other things moved in her peripheral vision. She ignored them. Where could she hide? All the stores had windows. Granted, the grime on the glass might be enough to hide her. She considered one with a large banner draped over the front. That would be too obvious a hiding spot, wouldn’t it? They’d probably look there, first.

  The footsteps came closer. One floor down, she guessed. She jogged a little way up the hallway, picked a store, and darted in among the rubble. Old sales signs and discounts were flattened to the ground. Vacant racks lay on their sides, crowded near the front. Toward the back, a group of naked mannequins huddled in the feeble glow of her phone.

  She eyed the sales counter. It was sturdy—it had to be, or it would have been on the floor with the sales racks. An open beer bottle stood on the counter. There was a dark liquid at the bottom.

  Light outside quickened her pulse. She hurried around the counter, dodging a misplaced mannequin’s arm. Fuck, this place was creepy.

  More bottles filled the cubby-holes under the counter. She squatted, smelling alcohol and cigarette smoke. Great. She’d picked the hangout spot. As she sank down, her phone caught a small white button under the till. It was labelled ‘panic’.

  She resisted the urge to push it. In fact, she tried not to touch anything. Her finger still hurt. She thought she felt blood crawl down her wrist.

  She waited. The tap of boots on the escalator sounded as alone as hers had.

  It stopped. The light swung around, indirectly illuminating her store. As the shadows returned, she had a moment of pure flashlight envy. Why did she have to go and lose hers?

  The store darkened again. Her knees ached from squatting. Tight denim cut into her circulation.

  She listened. The person had three choices: they could go across the bridge to the other side of the mall, turn right away from her and follow this side of the mall back the way he came, or he could come toward her.

  The footsteps started again, softer on the linoleum. They came closer.

  Joy.

  A door creaked open. The store with the banner? Glad she hadn’t hid in there. A few seconds later, it creaked again. The footsteps continued.

  She ducked down as light flashed her way, lingering on the store’s contents. It limned the counter’s edge.

  It left. The store dimmed. Not quite the full dark she’d experienced earlier in the mall. Their flashlight splashed some light back to her. She had a dim view of the mannequin arm and beer bottles. She breathed again. Beer bottles were fine company, she decided.

  She risked a look over the counter. The light was on the hallway. It back-lit them enough to give her a profile.

  Her phone received another text message.

  The ponderous bloop was deafening in the quiet. The light swung back. She hit her chin o
n the counter as she ducked out of sight. Too late. She’d been seen.

  Broken glass crunched as they entered the store.

  “Come out. I know you’re there.” A male voice.

  She hid a groan, rested her forehead against a cupboard. Well, at least she’d gotten the call off.

  Her knees cracked as she stood, leaning on the counter with the heel of her hand.

  He had a gun. She froze when she saw it, tensed her hand into a fist. Her injured finger drove a nail of pain up her nerves.

  She just couldn’t win today.

  The flashlight was next to the gun, and they were both pointed at her. She squinted into the light. Darkness behind hid his features.

  “Come out from behind there. Slowly. No magic.”

  She did so, carefully picking around the bottles. The injured finger had become numb. She felt warmer than before.

  Weird. Didn’t shock made people cold?

  “I said no magic!”

  “I’m not, I—” A flash caught her eye. Her hand was glowing. Lines moved up from the transfer mark, following her arm.

  The tracking spell.

  “It’s not me!” He wouldn’t believe her. “Don’t shoot!”

  The gun went off. Heat flashed over her. She flinched back, stumbled over the mannequin’s arm and careened into the rest of the doll family. They made hollow sounds when they fell over. She landed on top of them, scrambling back to her feet.

  She wasn’t hit. The glow faded from her skin. Only the transfer mark stayed lit. Behind the flashlight, she saw another glow. Orange, just like hers had been. She stared at it.

  “You just shot an unarmed girl.” Aiden spat out of the darkness. The boy spun around, gun and flashlight going with him. Meese considered hiding back behind the counter.

  “S-she was doing magic.”

  “No she wasn’t. I was.”

  Fire erupted out of the dark. The gun went off again, although Mieshka suspected that the bullet hit the ceiling rather than anything important. The fire knocked the gunslinger off his feet. Gun and light went flying. She saw them clatter under a sales rack.

  The fire vanished. The room went dark again, except where the flashlight’s beam sliced across the floor. She saw a limp hand at the edge of its beam, just where the light blurred into the dark. In the umbra. The transfer mark still glowed. The smell of smoke lingered.

  Glass crunched. Aiden’s foot stepped into the light. He picked the flashlight up and pointed it at the man who lay prone on the floor. The man wasn’t moving.

  “Are you hurt?”