Free Ruins by Joshua Winning

and launched silently at it, rippling into the shadows beyond. Nicholas and Sam continued to wrench at the wall. Finally it gave. Shoulder to shoulder, the duo staggered through into the welcoming blackness.
    The cool against Nicholas’s skin was like an eskimo’s kiss. He reached out his hands to prevent himself from blundering into anything.
    “There is an exit,” Isabel’s sharp tones rang, and Nicholas had never been more grateful for her ability to see in the dark. “To your left. It’s up in the corner, two wooden panels like a trapdoor.”
    Nicholas stumbled against Sam and together they edged through the darkness. The sounds of carnage from Snelling’s house were still audible, and Nicholas wondered why nobody from the neighbouring houses had come to help. Perhaps they had tried, but found no way of getting inside.
    “There,” Sam said. There came a rattle, the sound of Sam grunting with effort, and then the world opened up to them like a box of chocolates.
    The sky was pink and raw, something out of a comic book, and they rushed up into it, gasping at the clean air.
    Weakened by the heat, Nicholas and Sam staggered into the parched back garden and collapsed onto the grass.
    Nicholas wiped the mixture of soot and sweat from his forehead, staring up in horror.
    The house was ablaze. Thick black smoke streamed upward, a jagged scar in the coral-coloured sky.
    “There was nothing in the house,” he murmured, coughing up cinders. “We looked. There was nothing in there that could’ve done that.”
    Sam took out a handkerchief and mopped at his brow.
    “Somebody came in after us,” he muttered, folding the grimed handkerchief in half and dabbing his upper lip.
    “Who? Who was it?”
    Sam was transfixed by the burning ruin.
    “If only we knew,” the old man said softly.
    Sighing, Nicholas sagged against the grass and listened to the approaching sirens.

CHAPTER FIVE
    New Arrivals
     
    “ H ERE,” SAM SAID, HANDING NICHOLAS HIS suitcase. It felt like it was stuffed with rocks.
    They’d managed to evade the police, rounding the corner just as the first blue and red lights tumbled across the tarmac toward Snelling’s house. Sam had driven them into the centre of town, muttering something about finding a place to stay, and Nicholas had felt too beaten up to argue. He coughed, tasting smoke, and he could still feel the heat against his skin.
    Together, they crossed the narrow street. At the end, a sandstone tower craned over the surrounding buildings. The Norman Tower looked like a giant chess piece. Just one of the peculiar, ancient buildings that populated Bury’s older quarters.
    Sam led them down an even narrower alleyway that was lined with pretty doorways. The sign read Angel Lane. He stopped halfway down and rapped at a red door. Even his knock sounded exhausted.
    After a moment it drew open and a woman appeared.
    “Samuel!” she exclaimed.
    “Aileen,” Sam said cordially.
    Aileen resembled an old dinner lady. Her face was round and jolly. A tissue was crammed under the strap of a slender gold watch and her elbows had all but disappeared into a supple mound of doughy flesh. She wore a long, pleated brown skirt and a short-sleeved blouse, over which a flowery tabard had been fastened. It barely covered her ample bosom.
    “What a pleasant surprise!” the woman exclaimed. She primped at her purplish hair in dismay, the flesh under her arms wobbling. “Look at me, I’m a mess. Whatever must you think?”
    Nicholas suppressed a smile.
    “It’s a pleasure as always, Aileen,” Sam said.
    “I wasn’t expecting anybody,” Aileen trilled. “We’re completely empty and nobody called ahead for you. But, my! You’re looking well. Haven’t aged barely a day.” She beamed brightly at the elderly gentleman. The fact that he was covered in ash didn’t seem at all unusual to her.
    “Yes,” Sam coughed. He seemed uncomfortable, perhaps because of their appearance. “This is Nicholas,” the old