Free A Smaller Hell by A. J. Reid

the other side of the pub, but it was empty.
    ‘Can we go now?  It's freezing,’ Rachel shivered.
    ‘I don't understand,’ I said, looking the lonely building up and down.  ‘They were all in here just the other day.’
    ‘Who was in here?  Can we just go somewhere warm, please?’ 
    ‘I’m going to look round the back.  Get back in the car if you like.’
    Rachel looked at the shadows scurrying under the bridge further down the street.  ‘No thanks.’
     
    We managed to break into the pub through the back door.  The wood was rotten and a firm push sent the bolt clattering to the floor.  We passed through a dark, damp corridor and I was just able to make out the battered doors that we passed on either side.  I was curious, but I was more eager to see the lounge in which I had been drinking with the Captain.
    We climbed a creaky wooden staircase and pushed open a door leading into the lounge.  In the dusty moonlight, I saw that the barrels were no longer where they’d been.  The rich smell of exotic tobacco had vanished, as had the murmurs of the patrons and the rants of the heartbroken Captain.  All that remained was the damp that smelled as if it had been there for years and the whistle of the cold wind through the boarded-up windows.
    ‘Lovely,’ Rachel said, her arms folded across her still quivering body.
    ‘I don't get it,’ I said.
    I led Rachel back down the old staircase to the corridor in the cellar.  I thought that if I could just get her out of there without encountering a rat, my chances might not be completely shot.  As we trod into the darkness of the corridor, I noticed a dim light flickering beneath one of the doors.
    ‘Was that there when we came in?’ I asked.
    ‘Now is really not the time.’
    ‘I'm going to take a look.’
    Rachel was becoming more agitated by the second, but I had to satisfy my curiosity.  I pressed my ear to it and knocked twice.
    ‘I swear to God if this is some stupid joke, I'll never ...’ Rachel's said as the door squeaked open to reveal the source of the flickering light.
    There was a small table with a clay flagon on it and a fire had been lit in the old fireplace, providing some warmth and revealing the bare brickwork of the walls.  In the corner was one of the barrels and underneath, two pewter tankards.  I looked at Rachel to gauge her reaction, but she was already upon me, her arms around my neck and her lips locked to mine.
    ‘It's very romantic.  Thank you.’
    I was about to explain that I had nothing to do with it until she kissed me and brought me to my senses.  No harm in letting her run with the idea .  Rachel sat down on one of the rickety stools laid out for us while I filled both our tankards.  As soon as I saw the dark rusty liquid leave the barrel, I knew it was the same magical elixir as I had drunk with the Captain.
    ‘Wait 'til you try this,’ I said, placing the tankard in front of Rachel. 
    ‘Where did you get it?’
    I smiled and shrugged. 
    We drank ale and talked into the night until Rachel stood up and declared that she was tired of talking.  She held my eye as she sat down on my knee and ran her hand inside my shirt and across my shoulders, which were stiff and sore from weeks of sleeping on cold floorboards.  Her warm hands dispelled any residual pain.  With every button undone, it felt as if Rachel was dismantling my fear.
     
    We both lay naked on the bare slate of the floor in front of the dwindling fire.  The coolness of the slate soothed our hot skin as we stared up at the ceiling, both breathing heavily.  Rachel stroked my face and, seeing that my mouth was dry, got up to fetch me a tankard of ale.  Her smooth, pale legs looked perfect in the dim light of the fire. 
    I took a swig then handed her the tankard back.  She stood upright and drained it, leaning back as she did.  As she drank, a drop escaped her lips and ran down her chin, onto her neck and the temptation proved too much, so I lunged