Others (44 page)

Ducking beneath its grasp, I picked up the metal crutch that had tumbled into the lift with us and brought it down hard on the intruding arm, smashing it against the wrist in an effort to break it, then against the fingers, the knuckles, again and again, my rage equalling that of the
beast.
I could hear Constance’s screams, but I felt, rather than heard, bones shatter beneath my blows, and I didn’t let up, I kept pounding that fucking demon’s hand, wrist, and arms until it began to draw back like a withering weed, returning to where it belonged, where it could do no more harm. And still I kept on, roaring my anger, my anger
and
my fear, beating at the thing as though it represented every pointing finger I had learned to loathe over the years, every jibe, everything that stood between me and a contented existence.

It was gone and the lift doors closed on the burnt-raw fingers of its other hand, and I beat at those too, smashing them to pulp, until they released their grip. But just before that gap closed completely, a great tongue of flame belched through sending us screaming to our knees. Worse than our own screams though, were the muffled screeches from beyond the closed doors and we knew that the creature had finally been taken by the fire. Yet even as the lift lurched and began to rise, we could still hear pounding on the doors below us.

Those sounds continued but became weaker, not just because of the distance between us, but because the blows were becoming more feeble, the
beast
dying, burnt alive. Soon we heard only the roar of the fire itself.

The lift juddered to a halt and the doors clumsily rumbled open. I helped Constance to her feet and we stumbled out into the smoke-filled room beyond, both of us retching as we breathed in the polluted air. The sweltering heat was not quite as bad as in the rooms below, but it was nevertheless oppressive enough to draw our strength - what strength we had left, that is. I felt Constance beginning to sag and I held her more tightly, one arm round her back, beneath her shoulder, the other still gripping her bloodied elbow-crutch. She continued to clasp the sheet-wrapped bundle that was Michael to her breast.

Orange light came from the burning open stairway next to the lift shaft and in its flickering glow I could make out the lift’s operating machinery above the shaft itself, this accommodated by a box-like structure built into the angled roof. An iron-ranged maintenance ladder rising up the rough brick wall beside the closing lift door led to the machinery.

Opposite the lift shaft was a huge water tank, pipes running from it into a nearby wall, and piled beside it were tins of paint, cartons and boxes, lengths of material that might have been old curtains or background drapes used for filming, discarded pieces of laboratory equipment, and large empty jars. Most of the smoke came from the stairway and it curled around hefty support beams over our heads, the worst of it mercifully gathering under the roof’s apex. A short distance away to our left was a blank brick wall which reached to the very top of the inverted V-shaped ceiling, obviously built to seal off the annexe roof space from the main building, and to our right was a broad doorway presumably leading to the storage area itself.

The floorboards beneath our feet were already smouldering and I knew it wouldn’t be long before the fire broke through. Loud cracks, like gunshots, came from the wooden boards as they contracted with the heat, and my vision kept blurring, my eye aggravated by the smoke. Now what? I asked myself. So far my only plan had been to keep ahead of the fire, but now we had come as far as we could. Well, maybe not. There was always the roof itself. If we could climb out onto it and the rescue services reached us in time… I knew it was the only chance we had.

‘Are there any windows in the storeroom?’
I had to raise my voice again over the din.

‘Just one!’
she shouted back. Despite the grime that blackened her face, I could see from her expression she was in pain, her frail body not meant for the kind of exertion it had been put through tonight.
‘It’s at the far end of the storeroom.’
She pointed a waving hand at the wide door on our right.

‘Can we get onto the roof from there?’

‘I - I don’t know. I’m not even sure if the window can be opened.’

‘It’s our only option, Constance.’

She nodded and once again I took Michael from her, handing her the metal crutch as I did so. I pulled back the part of the sheet that covered his face and winced at what I saw in the flickering light. His sightless eyes were closed and the strange aperture that was his mouth barely moved now. I put my ear close to it and thought I heard a very faint wheezing sound. It was hard to tell over the noise of the fire itself though, and if it hadn’t been for the slightest movement of his mouth, I might have thought that Michael was dead. I covered his face again, loosely, giving him enough space to breathe, but protecting him from the worst of the smoke and heat.

‘Hang on to me?
I shouted at Constance.
‘Hang on to me and for God’s sake, don’t let go!’
For my sake too, Constance, especially for my sake.

She nodded again and her eyes told me she was placing all her trust in me. Together we headed for the storeroom.

The broad, sturdy door was the kind that ran on a rail and opened by pulling it sideways, and when I did so, heaving so hard it crashed against the rails’ stoppers, bouncing back a little, I almost wept genuine, not smoke-induced, tears of despair. The inferno inside the storeroom seemed absolute.

The explosion in the laboratory had sent flames shooting. up into the dormitory, which had lapped at the ceiling there, quickly burning through to the room above, the storeroom. A fierce wave of heat hit us instantly, sending us reeling back, and we cowered behind the rough wall, choking on the smoke, our throats seared by the broiling air we had inhaled. I felt Constance’s arms go round me from behind, her weight dragging me down.

‘Oh, Nick…’ her lips seemed to say when I turned to her.

I pulled her close, Michael between us, and I wondered if this was where it was all to end. Having found each other, was this our destiny - to die together? I almost gave in to it, almost accepted our fate, but my old friend and ally, anger, prodded me in the ribs once more. It’s too bloody good to give up, I told myself. You’ve fought all your life, against hardship, against prejudice, against pain. You’ve been mocked, you’ve been taunted, you’ve been abused, and you’ve overcome it all. So are you really going to lie down and go out with a whimper? Are you going to let Constance down? Are you going to let Michael die too, just when you’ve won his freedom? What are you - a man, or just a… just a…
freak?

‘What the fuck can I do?’
I screamed, the sound coming out like a raspy whisper, but vehemently enough for Constance to jerk away from me. Her teary eyes looked at me in bewilderment and at first, foolishly, I thought it was because she could not understand why I’d let her down; her hand touched my face though, a tender, fingertip caress, and I knew she would never think that of me. She had just been surprised at my outburst and had not been able to catch the words. Now her expression changed and she mouthed something that I couldn’t hear, but could understand. She was telling me she loved me again.

I laid Michael in her lap and spun away so that my face was against the wall at the edge of the door. More cautiously this time, I peeked into the storeroom.

I must have noticed it before when I had slid back the door, the intense burst of concentrated heat pushing me away before it had a chance to register. I shielded my face with my arm and forced myself to survey the burning room. I spotted it straight away, then wheeled back to face Constance.

I tried to force saliva into my throat so that I could speak clearly, but it was impossible. Everything was too dry; my tongue felt like a wad of sandpaper, the roof of my mouth like old parchment. I had to make do with a raspy croak.

‘There’s a chance’
I said close to her ear.
‘There’s a line of boxes on the right-hand side. It’s two rows high and the top edge of them touches the slanted ceiling. Their fronts are burning, but the flames haven’t reached the back yet. Constance, I saw a
gap behind them and I think it runs along the whole length of the room. We can make it to the end. I’m sure we can?

She found it difficult to speak too, but after two attempts she managed to say:
‘The heat, we won’t be able to stand the heat. We won’t even get through the door.’

‘Wait there.’

Pushing myself up, I staggered over to the junk piled next to the water tank and dragged out the folded lengths of material. Quickly I sifted through and found two pieces of thick curtaining. I pulled them clear, then found a box to stand on so that I could easily reach the top of the steel water tank. Dragging the curtains up with me, I tossed them over the edge of the open tank, first one and then the other, keeping a firm grip on a corner of material, immersing the rest in water. When both were thoroughly soaked, I swallowed a cupped-palm of water, then hauled the wet curtains back to Constance and Michael. The top step of the stairway was now on fire, the flames spreading up the angled roof.

I wasn’t sure if Michael was still alive when I took him from Constance and briefly uncovered his face - his eyes remained closed and his mouth was motionless now - but I wasn’t going to abandon him. As Constance painfully pulled herself off the floor, one hand on the wall, the other on her stick, I wrapped the first length of water-soaked material around her head and shoulders with my free hand. She tugged it tight at the front so that it resembled a huge shawl and I began to do the same to myself with the other one. We were forced to dodge flames that were springing up between the floorboards and we knew we had less than seconds to get out of that part of the roof space before it joined the inferno.

Tucking the wet material around Michael while I held him against my chest with one arm, I led Constance to the doorway.

‘Stay close behind me!’
I instructed her, the drink I’d snatched from the tank lubricating my mouth and throat just enough to improve my speech.
‘Keep your face against my back, don’t even try to see for yourself. Just follow me, right?

She gave me an exhausted nod and moved around me. I felt her weight against my curved spine and for the first time in my life I did not resent being touched there.

Although we were thoroughly drenched, the heat hit us again like a blast from a furnace and I felt Constance stagger against me, even though my body had shielded her from the worst. The temptation to get out of there was almost irresistible, but I knew there was nowhere else to go and forced myself onwards. Unbelievably, the curtain material was already becoming dry and soon it would be burning too; I tried to move faster, but it was so difficult to see, for now it wasn’t the smoke that was blinding me, but the flames themselves. I found my way mostly by instinct, praying I wouldn’t stumble over anything lying on the floor - if I went down, then that would be it, I would never be able to get up again - and remembering the layout from my second glimpse into the storeroom.

I lifted my head for another peep, aware that we should be near the boxes, and at first I thought they were now completely
ablaze,
the flames were so fierce. I kept going though, Michael an inert bundle against my chest, Constance heavy against my back as her frail legs became weaker by the moment, and soon my bowed head bumped something. With relief, I realized it was the sloping ceiling itself and I risked another peek at the burning line of boxes.

The relief increased when I saw the dark hole behind them. It took only a couple of steps to reach the opening and I took them hastily, almost losing Constance in the process. She hurried to keep up and knocked into me when I stopped. The nearest boxes, those I could see, were smouldering at the back, but were not yet alight. Moving even closer, I bent down a little to peer deeper into the dark passage created between boxes and slanted ceiling.

It was filled with unsteady shadows, fire reflecting through gaps between boxes, but the tunnel stretched a long way, almost to the end of the room itself, and I blessed the person who liked to store things tidily. There was a red glow at the far end, but I could see no flames. With luck - and dear God, we really needed that luck - the conflagration had not yet spread to the whole of the attic/storeroom area.

Without wasting any time, I ducked into the opening, quickly realizing it would be better to crawl its length because smoke filled the upper section. Constance, still right behind, understood my intention and dropped to her knees too. It was awkward holding Michael with one arm, the other against the floor, and I was wearying fast, but just the idea that we had a feasible goal kept me going. Half-way along, flames licked through a gap, but they had not quite gained a hold, and I was able to get by using the curtain as a shield. I waited for Constance and watched as she used the same tactic, but as she passed the narrow opening, flames shot through more strongly and the curtain she held caught fire. She quickly dropped it and scuttled on, joining me in the orange gloom. I couldn’t see her face properly, but I could hear the raw grating of her breaths, each inhalation urgent and pained; my own gasps for breath did not sound much better.

‘Not much further,’
I managed to rasp.

She was too overcome to respond, so I moved on, the only thing I could do, hoping she would revive a little when we got to the window.

Both of us were dragging ourselves along the floor by the time we reached the end of the angled passageway, the heat and the smoke torturing our bodies. I was on my side holding Michael against my right rib cage as I emerged, sliding my body by pushing my feet and right arm against the floorboards. I snatched a look back to see if Constance was okay and saw that half the passageway was now in flames. I knelt and reached for her, pulling her out with one hand, before we both collapsed again and lay side by side, straggling for air, our chests heaving with the effort. But there was the window before us, the precious window, with feeble moonlight shining through. I would have wept if my ducts had had any fluid left; all I could give was a dry sob.