The Cleansing Fire

I bury my face in her shirt, sobbing. Her scent insinuates itself into my tingling nostrils and draws me toward her, even now. I resist the siren call of her screams and let the crumpled garment drop from my useless fingers into the flames. And I step off to join it.

***

It had all started so easy; a trip to the pharmacy to replace her dwindling supply of meds. A quick in and out; no more dangerous that the monthly trip to forage for food.

I’d nailed the door shut and slid a note ringed with kisses under the weathered oak. I’d shrugged to adjust the familiar weight of my ballistic vest and checked that I was locked and loaded before dropping down the hatch and crawling out to meet the watery, winter dawn.

It had all gone to hell. Newly blocked streets had made for massive detours and delays. By the time I had all the drugs, I was running dangerously late. Lengthening shadows swarmed across every street, growing fast as the sun fled, phantom fingers reaching to pull me into the dark.

In movies in the old days, how many times did you shout at someone who got into a car in the dark without first checking the back seats? What can I say? I was in a rush to get back to her – and more than a little spooked by then. Hey! It’s not like they would steal the car. They don’t drive.

I jumped in and gunned the engine. The roar of the unsilenced V8 echoed off the concrete.

I felt a hand grab at my shoulder and threw myself flat on the bench seat. The hand scrabbled for a hold before falling away. I swung the shortened twelve gauge on its strap and fired blindly through the seat.

BAM! BAM!

I rolled out onto the road, and lay there, ears ringing and hands shaking from my narrow escape, gulping for suddenly scarce air. No injuries.

Jumping to my feet I snatched open the rear door to clear away the remains of my stowaway. I should have grabbed another car, but the old sedan had been hers in happier days and I wanted to hang onto it. I dragged the shredded body out onto the road. As I turned to get back in the front, the body heaved and snatched my leg. I kicked out and, as I wrenched away, I felt nails scratch down my leg as my Levis rode up above my boots.

BAM! BAM!

The body jerked across the asphalt like a gaffed fish being landed and lay still – for now. I fishtailed away and took three tries to get the flame near enough to my Camel to light it.

The tingling in my calf started almost straight away. I rubbed it hard with the side of my boot, hoping it was just an adrenaline twitch. By halfway home, my whole leg was burning and the other was tingling. I figured I had a couple of hours at best. I needed a plan.

***

I skid to a halt on our drive and fall out of the car. My whole body feels like it has been flensed and dipped in salt. My legs are numb and I move now with their characteristic shamble. My neck tingles. I can sense her presence.

Inside, I call “Honey, I’m home!” Like always.  

“Quick, out the window, my husband’s here!” comes her accustomed reply.

After bumping legs that no longer belong to me up the stairs, I lean my head against her door.

“Baby. Listen carefully. We’ve got a problem.” My tongue tingles and I feel like my mouth is full of dry crackers. I hear her wheelchair cross towards the door.

“What’s happened?”

“One of them’s here. In the house. No. I’ll kill it. Remember, you’ve got a revolver on the dresser. Love you Babe...”

The flames from the paraffin splashed about the lobby crackles and flickers, consuming the stairs. The smoke swirls, dancing with me, beckoning me to destroy the thing that will surely kill her if I wait. I grab blindly at the laundry pile. I bury my face in her shirt, sobbing.

700 words

@nickjohns999

This story was the winner of Jeff Tsuruoka's Midweek Blues Buster #39 and was inspired by this week's song 'Heavy in your Arms' by Florence and the Machine

Judge Jenn Monty said:-First Place goes to @nickjohns999 – ZOMBIES! very creative and unexpected while still fitting the song perfectly. The descriptions of the disease spreading through the MC were excellent. Great job. And I just want to add – always double tap!

Gazing into the Abyss

She waited, trembling, for them to call his name. Or hers.
The sweat stained Mayor picked a folded slip, passed it to David to read out.

“David Osborne.”

He crushed it. Dropped it. It rolled to a stop against her foot.

He strode to the hatch, his body no longer warming the space next to her. She felt the impossibly small drop in temperature. But the hairs on her arm bristled for a different reason. 

 ***

“Come on, Em. Don’t be like this. It’s what we’ve worked for all this time.”

“What you’ve worked for, David.”

He yawned, popping his ears. Equalising the pressure of the descent, she knew, but she couldn’t let the chance pass.

“Sorry, am I boring you? At least you can listen now you are in the same room as me.”

“Em, I’m not...”

“...Not what? Not tired from spending all night out... again? Not wishing it wasn’t me here with you?”

His eyes flashed, cold and dangerous like the darkening water surrounding them.

“That’s not fair and you know it! There were a million details to settle recently. Who was going to sort them out – you?”

“...and why not? We started this project together. I know every inch of the design, even if it’s your brainchild. ‘You’re not just a pretty face are you?’ You used to say that when I surprised you knowing about the schematics Well, it seems that just a pretty face was all you were really interested in – once I got your funding lined up. We are – were – a team, David.”

“There’s no ‘I’ in team, Emma.”

“Is that the best you’ve got...?”

“... but there is a ‘me’, isn’t there? If you twist it. The way you twist everything.”

He took a step towards me then stopped. He drew a deep ragged breath. He exhaled as if more air came out than went in. His shoulders sagged, deflated, defeated.

“Whatever. I’m going to glad-hand the VIPs. You have the conn.”

The hatch closed, leaving me alone and still fuming. That was quicker than I expected. He gave in too easily now. You can’t fight properly unless you get in close, and we got so close we swore we’d never be apart.

Who was he close to now, I wondered. I wiped my eyes with my coverall sleeve, making a note to check the humidity later.

My hand hovered over the button. Was I really ready for this?

Hell yes! I slammed the button and held on. We lurched, our descent speed increasing rapidly.

I flicked the tannoy. “Emergency buoyancy loss! Brace for impact! Brace for impact!”

We hit bottom hard.

The VIPs had bickered, but it was obvious. David or I had to man the escape pod.

Two names in the helmet. Let fate decide.

***

 The sub rocked as the pod launched with a whoosh.

She had almost emptied the air tanks in it. No chance of making the surface.

She retrieved the crumpled slip. Unravelled it.

‘Emma Osborne’

500 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Alissa Leonard’s FinishThat Thought Flash Fiction Challenge #11

The story was judged the WINNER of the Judge's Challenge Category of the contest.
Judge Rebekah Postupak said:-

WINNERS:

Judge's Challenge: @NickJohns999. While I'm not sure why the POV switched from 3rd to 1st person midway, the abyss of deep water is pivotal to this story's central crisis and also serves as a stark metaphor of David & Emma's lethally destructive relationship. In the tradition of Stephen King, "Abyss" is utterly tragic and utterly terrifying; and it is utterly inseparable from its watery setting. It's a powerful and full-bodied use of the challenge, deserving of the challenge title.

It's Behind You!

It’s Behind You!

“You’ll never guess what I’ve found my Dear, featured in the society pages of the London Gazette. Right here, you see ‘The Honorable and Mrs Aloisius Sebastain-Flyte, blah blah, fresh from his notable successes in the city ...notable successes eh? blah blah, ...recently embarked upon the adventure of a lifetime, blah blah, ...wonder of the age ...technology’s greatest achievement...  Cynthia? Why are you just sitting like some slack jawed shop girl at a picture show? Come on Old Girl. I said you might be a little queasy, can happen to anyone. Not got your sea legs. I know! How about a teensy glass of fizz eh? Just the thing if you’re not feeling quite the ticket.”

“B b b...”

 “What? Oh! I see! It’s a game is it? By Jove, I’ve got it – I spy! How splendid. You shouldn’t really give any clues in the classical form of the game that Nanny taught us but, I’m game. Where’s that fizz...?. I know! Bottle. Is it Bottle?”

“Bl bl bl...”

“Fine. Fine. Can’t expect to get it first time I suppose. Now let me see... Blanket?

“Blo blo blo...”

“Are you sure you’re not changing as we go along you little minx?... Blouse!

“Bloo bloo bloo...”

“Oh really, there are a limited number of articles in any cabin, even one as spacious as this one... Bloom! That’s the blighter isn’t it? Bet you thought that I’d dismiss them as flowers. ‘F’ you see...? Bloom! “

“N.. N.. No Bloo.. bloo.. bloo..”

Yes, yes, we’ve had that already. Why are you sitting there gibbering like an imbecile, staring out of the porthole... I say It’s not something outside the room is it? That would be jolly poor form... close to cheating in fact. Well? Spit it out.”

“B B Bloody Big Iceberg!”

300 words

@nickjohns999

This story was written for Rebekah Postupak's Flash! Friday Micro Fiction Contest

Rebekah wrote a 'Flash Points' critique of this story on her blog. Read it HERE