by Sara Clancy
The box rattled as something unseen struck the back, the sides, the lid. Groping. Searching in a blind, aimless way. As if none of the light meant a thing to it. The next blow rocked the trunk violently and the lid slammed down, hard enough to release a puff of rust into the mix of nauseating smells. The creature battered the sides, moving the box inches at a time, but it seemed unable to find the hinge again. Annabel squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lips to keep down her startled shrieks. Enduring each blow. Begging and pleading with anything that would listen that whatever was searching for them didn’t find the latch again.
Chapter 6
Jezebel didn’t move. Not when the assault had finally ended. Or the footsteps headed down the stairs. Or when the lantern light died away. She half-expected Annabel to protest the plan, to make a frantic grab for the lid with some stupid idea pouring from her lips. This is insane. We have to help the others. I’m sure we can talk to them. But Annabel lay as still as either one of them could manage. Crammed together in the tiny space, it was impossible to tell which one of them was shivering. There were only the fine trembles that rattled the items beneath them. She knew that the sound could barely be above a whisper. In the stillness, however, it might as well have been a scream.
The lights returned at times. Flaring and searching. While she wasn’t able to put a name to the beings that were making their way through the town, the most animalistic part of her soul hissed with absolute certainty. Death.
Movement rustled up from the streets and rattled below. Each time it drew close, Annabel would freeze up below her, not seeming to take a breath until the glows and sounds faded. Each of those moments increased in duration until Jezebel was sure she’d find her sister dead from suffocation. She waited with anxious dread for the light to dwindle, and the soft, desperate gasp signaled that Annabel was still with her.
Suspended in this state, time had no meaning. Minutes felt like an iron bar pressing down against her chest while passing within an instant. Her mind swelled as her body failed to supply the constant level of adrenaline. The stench of the rag and the humidity of their breaths turned the air stale. The items that had started as uncomfortable pressure steadily became excruciating, ravaging her already screaming muscles. Passing hours left locked and clenched in tight confinement worked upon her, turning every inch of her body into heavy thudding pain. Consciousness became slippery. Something that shrunk away from her as she fought to tighten her grip on it. Her eyes rolled and her throat became dry and hot. Even the sounds of the beings returning to the house was barely enough to steady her.
Footsteps. Heavy. Sure. Moving with a profound purpose as they crossed directly to the stairs and began to climb. They came back for us, Jezebel shrieked within her mind. It had seemed too much of a blessing that their hiding place hadn’t been found the first time. Was it just a trick? A mind game? Some kind of mental torture to keep us trapped in fear for hours? The consequences of that last thought rang through her as if she were hollow. At the beginning of the night, they had been stronger. Perhaps able to run. Fight. Think without the last dregs of crashing adrenaline turning their thoughts sluggish and fractured.
The footsteps found the landing. Stupid, girl. They grew louder. Creeping closer. Anna, I’m so sorry. Thunderous steps stopped before them, with only the thin, brittle wall of the box separating them. I killed us both. Rusted hinges released an earsplitting screech as the lid exploded. Ripped away from the body of the box and tossed aside, smashing into splinters as it collided with the wall. Without it, the walls couldn’t hold their position. They cracked apart, spilling them and the other contents out onto the floorboards. The harsh material twisted around her. It pulled taught as Annabel struggled, and she couldn’t tear it free. Her skin bristled with the unwavering knowledge that an unseen hand was reaching out for her. She didn’t know from where. Which direction she should shrink from. All she knew was that it was there. Coming ever closer.
Bells boomed. The strikes rattling the frail building until she feared it would split apart. Between the slow, rhythmic tolls, Jezebel caught the sliding grind of the doors closing again. A soft light encroached over the shawl as she managed to twist it around her finger and yank it free. A red mist bellowed before her. Thin and wide. As fine as particles of dust. It drifted as a single cloud. Inching towards the wall before seeping out between the minute cracks. The last traces left. Within the same second, the heavy castle doors slammed closed and, with a roar like a waking dragon, the bonfires burst back into towering infernos. Embers spewed from the tips of the fire as they licked wildly at the sky. The sparks drifted by the window, drawing Jezebel’s eyes.
While there hadn’t been a trace of natural light within the room before, the sun had long since inched up above the horizon. Swollen clouds muted the morning sun into something dreary and dull. It didn’t take long for the smoke to rise up and, seemingly finding something it couldn’t escape, fell back down to blanket the ground. Jezebel found herself unable to pinpoint the exact moment when the rain returned. It faded back like everything else. A matter of seconds, and the world returned to the state it had been when they had first arrived. As if nothing had ever happened. She watched the rain fall and splatter in through the open window, the droplets lit more by the firelight than by the sun. Smoke rolled in it, and the choking scent soon returned.
Twisting around, Jezebel checked for the box. It was a relief to find it still in broken shards, a small ounce of proof that something had happened. Releasing a sigh, she turned to her sister. There wasn’t a trace of color in Annabel’s face. Her chest heaved as if she forgot to breathe until her body commanded it. Wide, unseeing eyes saw nothing but the cracks that the mist had vanished from. The bells stilled and the world fell silent.
“Anna?”
Her little sister released a gargled, squeaking sound that didn’t come anywhere near words.
“Anna?” Jezebel tried again.
She saw it, Jezebel realized. I saw the ghost on the ship. She saw the ones here. Slipping closer, she gently clasped Annabel’s shoulder, trying to draw her attention. “Hey, can you hear me?”
The only response was the lifting of one trembling hand. It didn’t point at the wall like Jezebel expected, though. Instead, she kept twitching her hand, tipping palm up as if silently asking a question. Jezebel made no attempt to hide her sudden burst of laughter. She encounters the paranormal and is more concerned with questions than fear. The thought passed her head with its soothing sense of humor. A part of her was jealous. She couldn’t shake the thought that her encounter would have been easier if she could think like her baby sister did.
“Did you see that?” Annabel mumbled. Not waiting for a response, and with her hand still flipping back and forth, she continued. “It ... it went through the wall. It ...”
“I didn’t see.”
Annabel snapped her head around, her brow furrowed, mouth gaping. “I only caught a glimpse.” Having that out, the other words followed in a rush. “But it was red. A dark red! Like dried blood. It crumbled into dust. Or mist. I know that sounds insane, but I swear, it’s true.”
Jezebel tightened her grip on his shoulder. “Anna, I believe you.”
She stuttered to a stop. “You do?”
“Of course.”
It was almost possible to see the moment her brain shook off its shock and started to whirl again. All gears, cogs, and direct lines of thought.
“What did you see on the ship?” she asked.
Jezebel made the mistake of hesitation. It gave Annabel’s mind that split second to remember the others. The thought wouldn’t have had time to cross her head before she was on her feet and bolting for the door. A nighttime of inaction had left her legs numb. It made her stumble more than step, which worked in Jezebel’s favor, because it meant she could catch up to her fleeing sister. They staggered down the stairs, both barely catching themselves before tripping over their own feet. The far wall at the bottom kept both of them from falling over. An
d each pushed off of it to propel themselves towards the door.
Thick smoke was already curling around the edges of the door, eager to taint the air within. Annabel didn’t pause to hurl the door open and ran into the haze. Entering the murky air instantly reduced Jezebel’s vision to only a few feet in every direction. Beyond that, there were only shadows and smog. Still, with a trace of sense about her, Annabel kept to the wall, retracing the path they had taken to get her. Jezebel was able to keep her sister in her sight as they worked through the haze. Suddenly, a door flung open and a towering cluster of gloom lunged towards them. A scream ripped from both of them and they staggered, leaving the safety of the wall.
“Sorry, sorry,” Henry’s unmistakable voice chanted with an easy quiver.
“Henry, is Egil with you?” Jezebel asked, more to break him out of his stupor than out of any concern.
“No. We got separated when ...”
“Did you see them?” Annabel rushed forward a few steps.
Startled, Henry retreated, half falling backwards through the door he had just come through.
“The red cloaks?” she pressed. “Did you see them?”
“I don’t know what I saw,” he said in a meek whimper.
It wasn’t the answer she wanted. Deciding that there wasn’t any reason to hang around anymore, Annabel started running again. The sudden dismissal caught Henry off guard and he was left standing in a stupor. He probably would have remained there for hours if Jezebel hadn’t grabbed his arm as she passed, forcing him to trot along behind them. For all their racing, his long legs let him easily keep pace.
It wasn’t until Annabel reached a second large gap in the wall that she realized she had gone too far. All the doors looked the same, each marked with a deep red ‘x’ and the words she had seen before. Lord, have mercy on this house. Seeing them all, one after the other, made the hair on Jezebel’s neck stand on end. It hadn’t occurred to her the night before, but there was no reason for the messages to be in English. It’s almost like they’re meant for us. Her attention shattered as Annabel suddenly stopped short.
“What is it?” she asked.
“There’s a gap,” Annabel asked.
Jezebel could just make out the dark shape of her sister’s arm as she waved it out before her.
“We didn’t pass a gap on the way here, did we?” Annabel whispered.
The bonfire crackled madly from within the haze, covering her soft, hesitant words. Jezebel tried to think. It was as if her brain had just deleted the journey. It no longer seemed close to important.
“I can’t remember. Maybe they just didn’t put the candles up like we thought they would.”
“Or snuffed them out when …” Henry’s words trailed off and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Back and forth with a restless energy. “When the gates opened,” he finished at last.
“We should head back,” Annabel said, her voice nothing but solid conviction. “It took us way too long to pry the planks off for us to have covered that much distance.”
Neither sister dared to leave the wall as they turned, so Henry ended up leading the way. They only got a few steps before the screaming started. The voices rose up in a chorus of blood-chilling cries, joining with the pelting rain and the low, drool squawks of the startled ravens. The three of them ran towards the noise, each with a tight grip on the shirt of the one before them so they wouldn’t get lost. In their haste, Henry’s larger stride meant nothing, and they all soon collided with the small crowd pouring out of the doctor’s office.
Caught in the middle of the swirling hysteria and blanketing smoke, Jezebel was battered about between the moving bodies. The panicked cries morphed into bellowed names. While the crowd surged forward, no one went too far from the safety of the doorway; of the soft, meek light that the now lit candles in the windowsill offered. Annabel released her grip on Jezebel’s soaked shirt. In the chaos, she caught sight of her dark hair slipping into the doctor’s office. Checking on the patients. Jezebel tried to follow but couldn’t slip her bigger form through the small gaps between the people.
“Egil!” someone declared.
Jezebel failed to both recognize the voice or pinpoint the speaker. It didn’t matter either way. The information hurled at the approaching blonde was the same as it came from different sources. Someone was missing. Even though the smoke had reduced him to barely more than a few colored splotches, all Egil had to do was lift his hands to silence the group.
“Everyone, get inside,” he ordered, his accent thick and crisp, wavering slightly with the residue of fear. “We’re going to do a head count and give time for the search party to return.”
A few people lifted their voices in protest, but it didn’t have the same fever it had before. There was a pacifying sense of relief to have someone in charge. His placid but stern voice soon had everyone filling back into the building. Instead of taking advantage of the space, they clustered close in one corner. Jezebel longed to join them. To just slip into the safety that the group offered. It took a concerted effort to force herself to walk over to her sister instead. By all appearances, Annabel was oblivious to everything happening around her. All but jezebel’s presence, which she quickly exploited by giving her a list of tasks. Mostly collecting clean rainwater and washing out wounds.
Not willing to go outside just yet, Jezebel took a couple of the deeper basins and headed to the window. It was so low that it was possible for her, with a small amount of painful awkwardness, to reach out and touch the ground. The basin she had left the night before was still in place. Clean water sloshed over the curved rim as the steady rain continued to fill it. She pulled it inside and set it on the floor as she set up the other basins. Beside her, Henry was fussing with a rickety chair. Since his movements didn’t involve crying, screaming, or blood, she found herself watching him. When he had the stool as he wanted it, he proceeded to pull out a few dozen candles from his coat pockets. He must have gathered them as he searched the houses, Jezebel reasoned. I should have thought of that.
Using the candles on the windowsill, he lit his newly acquired supplies and melted the bottoms. Her brow furrowed. Before she could ask what he was doing, he started to affix half a dozen of the parchment-yellow candles to the stool. Essentially, he turned it into a candelabra. In the stifled, lingering shadows of the room, the group of tiny flames could have been a blazing fireplace. Tension melted from Jezebel’s shoulders at the sight of the dancing, comforting light. Warm and yellow.
Nothing like the lanterns.
The thought popped into her head. No matter how much she dwelled on it, she couldn’t pinpoint what was different about it. The only explanation that popped into the forefront of her mind was that the lantern light felt cold. Sterile. Carefully, Henry carried the stool over to Annabel and left it wordlessly by her side. The extra light startled her enough that she snapped her head up.
“Thanks.”
Henry offered a little lopsided smile and set about trying to clean his glasses. Really, it was just smearing the rain and soot around the lenses. He was putting them back on her face when he returned to Jezebel’s side.
“How can I help?”
“Are you avoiding Egil?” she whispered.
They both glanced up to see that the blonde man had arranged their small group into a line against the wall. With Rocca, he paced along, checking and rechecking the names before staring anxiously at the door. Sometimes, the effort was rewarded, and a member of the search party burst in, wide eyed and panting. Most of the time, it remained in place and Egil started the count again. By the time Jezebel drew her attention back to Henry, he had gathered up one of the basins from the outside. The rain had already filled it, and he trailed a thin path of water on his way to Annabel. This reaction left a sinking feeling in Jezebel’s core. She made a note to keep track of both men. Something happened last night. That much she was sure of.
She couldn’t stop marveling that the three worst cases were sti
ll alive. Trapped in their delirious fevers, they would have all passed the night completely unaware that anything out of the normal had happened. They each had a battering of wounds. Annabel had long since taught her big sister how to tend to the simplest cuts and wounds. How to wash and redress them with little possible pain to the patient. Had instructed her on the warning signs of infection. It was all a lot easier now with the makeshift candelabra to see that not all of the wounds were progressing well.
There were a few rags that had been set up to boil over the small fireplace. The original intention had been to hang the sterilized cloth up to dry afterwards, giving them a fresh supply of bandages in the morning. The flames must have been snuffed out along with the bonfires because the water hadn’t yet begun to steam. Understandably, no one had thought to hang them up to dry either. If felt wrong to wrap open wounds with wet cloths. It wasn’t like there was a better option. The rags that had been on them overnight were stained thick with a mixture of blood, dust, and a layer of settling ash.
She dumped the dirty rags into a bucket and she started the whole cleaning process again, washing away what she could with the rainwater then setting them to boil over the fire. Henry had already stoked the flames, making sure there was a healthy blaze. The few tools of trade that had been in good enough condition to use were already being sanitized in a smaller pot. By this time, Annabel had employed Henry’s upper body strength to lift the patients as she changed the sheets, which gave her a whole new set of putrid rags to wash. Airborne filth stuck to the blood, puss, and urine like glue. It occurred to her as she worked that she had already become desensitized to the task. Blood. Bodily fluids. Exposed bones. None of it bothered her. Not as long as she had something to do.
