***
My eyes opened in the semi darkness of an underground tunnel. I sat up and confirmed what my mind struggled to tell me: it was another vision. My friends were gathered around my body in the foyer of Spectra while some deeply buried part of me had traveled across almost a century past and was deposited once again in the tunnels beneath a burning orphanage. I gained the best bearings I could gather in the dark of the tunnel and headed in a direction which felt like the right way to go.
I soon emerged from behind the shabby shelf system which covered the entrance to the tunnels. I heard the commotion of the fire and people making attempts to escape it. Soon Susan’s little form rushed into the room and began the scene I had watched and interrupted once before. She unearthed the small wooden box and placed the key in it and reburied all of it. I watched as she tried to climb the ladder to escape. I watched as Pine entered the room and threw the ladder and the girl on it aside to keep her from getting away. That was the point at which I had stepped in before. This time I was bound and determined that I would not interfere. Instead I would observe and see the rest of what I needed to know.
Pine was instantly on top of her. She scratched and slapped as hard and fast as she could but he was too powerful to be fended off by her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her into the air above and in front of him.
“Where is it,” he growled the question. “Where is my key?”
“I don’t have it,” she said crying. “It’s gone, I don’t have it.”
“Don’t play games with me, darlin’. I play rough.” He dropped her and she landed in a heap on the floor. She cried even harder and everything in me wanted to rip him apart with my bare hands. But this was the past. I needed to see what came next, horrible though it would be.
She started to stand and he smacked her hard across her young face. She fell to the ground again and screamed in pain. The report of his hand as it connected to her face was startling. He leaned over and grabbed her by the front of her little white dress and began to drag her away back down the tunnel. She struggled against his grip but he took no notice. He just continued on. When they passed directly through me Susan’s whimper stopped for the briefest of moments. I turned and followed them.
After a short time we came to Pine’s chamber where there was a makeshift bed and a steamer trunk. He threw Susan at the trunk. She landed on her knees in front of it then looked back at Pine, fear aglow in her eyes. He stared back at her like a predator contemplating the angle of attack.
The boy with the ruined face I had met at the elevator lay facedown on the dirt floor of the chamber. A pool of blood had gathered beneath his head and started to soak into the dirt. I remembered seeing an earlier part of this chain of events from Susan’s perspective. The boy had stayed behind in this room and planned to delay Pine as she had tried to escape. The boy had shrieked and then was silenced. Now I saw why. Pine had killed him.
Susan screamed when she saw his body lying there. Pine ignored her lament.
“Open it,” he said.
“I told you I don’t have the key,” her voice trembled.
“Then open it the other way,” he said with slow deliberateness.
She kept her gaze on the man then shook her head.
“I ain’t going to ask you again, darlin’, open the damn trunk or I’ll make you sorry.” I could tell he meant every word and I believe Susan understood this also. Nevertheless she shook her head again.
He took three slow strides to close the distance between the two of them and towered over the girl. Then the assault came. A swift slap found its mark across the right side of her face. It was soon followed by a backhand slap to the other side. She lay facedown on the floor cradling her face in her hands and weeping. He stood above her like a stone colossus not caring one ounce about her pain.
“Are you ready to cooperate with me now? If not there’s plenty more where that came from.” He was an immovable object. She weighed the truth of his words and elected to believe them. She turned to the trunk and placed a hand over the lock and closed her eyes. Her face was a maze of concentration and terror as she worked. There was a click beneath her unmoving hand. She had picked the lock with her mind.
Then Pine was behind tossing her aside. He threw open the trunk. At first there was greed all over his face. Then there was puzzlement. Then anger. He slowly turned his head. I followed his gaze and saw Susan backing away from him inch by inch.
He stood from his crouch and became the image of pure rage. “Where are my things,” he demanded in a low voice.
“They’re all gone,” Susan said with defiance. “We gave them back.”
“You’re going to pay,” he said as he stalked toward her. “You’re going to— argh…” and then he was cut off. Susan had planted her feet and raised her arms out in front of her, fingers splayed out. Pine flew backward with great force and smacked against the open lid of the steamer trunk. He slid down into the trunk his legs and an arm dangling over the edge. He was dazed from the impact and Susan ran forward and placed his legs and arm inside the trunk and slammed the lid down on top. Then she placed her hand over the lock as she had before and locked him in.
The girl backed away from the trunk. That’s when the pounding and the river of obscenities started from inside the trunk. Pine issued every dark oath he could imagine. I looked from the trunk to young Susan. She stared at the trunk indifferently. Then she turned and walked back the way she had been dragged.
I followed her and the sounds of Pine faded behind us. The last coherent thing I heard him say was, “If I die in this thing I swear I’m coming back for you. I swear it!” A chill ran down my spine at the prophecy. Soon I was out of earshot and grateful. I thought as I walked behind the girl about how Pine must have died cramped in that Steamer trunk maybe through dehydration or perhaps smoke inhalation if enough smoke from the fire above found its way down the tunnels. What was interesting to me was that he had not died in fire.
I had somehow assumed the blaze was the cause of his death because his ghost seemed to thrive on it so much. Fire preoccupied me as we walked back to the cellar.
Susan finally made it back to the cellar and stood in the center of the room by the ladder. She looked at the downed ladder and then up at the opening on the floor above where it should have rested. The opening was wreathed in fire. Just then the floor above creaked, groaned and gave way. Blazing wood tumbled down and landed on the girl. A burning piece rested on the side of her face, giving her the familiar burn scar I recognized.
The cellar door to the outside flew open. A police officer descended the stair and saw Susan. He immediately began shoving wooden beams aside and was rewarded with several burns of his own. He finally cleared enough of the wood away to free Susan. He plucked her unconscious form out of the wreckage and ran outside. More of the floor above collapsed and it was over.
A Ghost of Fire Page 42
