Prologue
Father, forgive them.
They know not what they do.
The sticcato of feet.
The roar of flames.
The sky is blue, you think. You can’t tell for the curling grey smoke. Sparks collide with the cobbles on the street; you see them through the bars on the basement window. Cold, frozen stone snuffing out tears of flame with a…
...hiss.
Outside everything looks almost apocalyptic. White and orange and black. It snowed yesterday, yet everything that could possibly burn is burning.
But not your cellar.
Your Mamma made sure of that, and although she may never come home again, you will survive.
Not that you want her to come home again. You were too young to watch Daddy die, but she didn’t care.
You know Emmett knew that mamma loved him, but she sawed him to pieces and left him in the suitcase by the door.
Gurgling.
The sound of your older brother drowning in his own blood.
They can slice her to bits for all you care. Those who are left; who can fight; who will fight.
Hissing.
More sparks plunge themselves into a patch of unmelted snow just beyond the glass.
Pattering.
More feet. Women with guns again. Guns that spit fire.
There is nothing to burn. Everything is burning. From the clock hands on the church tower to the shattered pieces of glass on the street that were blown out when the JD store was set ablaze.
Ticking.
The clock in the cellar. Above the door.
Above the suitcase. Some sort of liquid seeps through the zips that appears black in the darkness.
Hissing. Pattering. Ticking. Gurgling?
Hissing. Pattering. Ticking.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
A myriad of sounds combine to create a cacophony.
You throw your chubby little hands over your ears.
You need Mamma. No! You don’t want Mamma but you need Mamma. And Daddy and Emmett.
Metal. That’s what the dark liquid smells like. Metal and something else. You don’t know what it is. The floor goes down from the door, you realise that now that the dark liquid is crawling towards you.
Closer and closer.
Hissing. Pattering. Ticking.
Dripping. Burning. Crawling.
No.
NO.
NO!
Closer and closer. No closer! Please!
Hiss.
Ping.
The light beneath the stairs outside the door turns on. Everything is so bright so suddenly, it hurts your eyes.
The liquid. It’s red, dark red.
Click.
A key in the lock.
Mamma is back.
