Tumblefields [ONC 2021]

9

"He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life."
― Virginia Woolf

9

Entering Tumblefields, Rachel felt the same chill rush through her as she had both times before. A penetrating chill that lifted the hairs on her arms and neck, that infused within her skin causing an ache in her bones. She struggled to breathe, Mara's slow, ponderous attack upon her forcing her chest to rattle with every breath.

Stepping into the main entrance hall, she gave Jennifer a gentle push, guiding her beneath the overhanging mezzanine floor as her eyes drifted towards the metal and glass roof above. The room where she had fallen down into Mara's tomb sat at the far end of the building and many glass panelled doors awaited their passing. Rachel had to keep Jennifer safe. She couldn't lose another friend.

The smell of gasoline clung to her nostrils as they progressed, swapping sides as each door neared, Rachel choosing to shield Jennifer rather than mind her own safety. The light from the flashlights on their phones picked out shadowy crevices, hidden alcoves and open doorways leading to detritus filled rooms, none of which they bothered to check. They had only one destination.

"You should take your inhaler." Eyes wide, taking in all their surroundings, Jennifer clung to Rachel's sleeve. She had heard the rough, ragged sounds coming from Rachel's chest. "It'd be dumb to die because of your asthma before this Mara has a chance to kill you."

"It's not my asthma." Rachel stopped, rolling up her sleeve and pointing her phone's light at her arm, the dry skin now taking up the entire limb, her muscles retracted and frail. "It's Mara. I took her skin, she's taking mine in return. And I swallowed it, too. It's her. Taking me."

Rachel couldn't even smile at Jennifer's attempt at stilted, fearful humour. The stakes were too high. Rolling down her sleeve, she grasped Jennifer's hand, leading her on to the other side of the entrance hall. Once they passed out of this area, Jennifer might have a chance. Rachel had already heard several snaps as pieces of glass they passed gathered cracks and spider-web fractures.

Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, they passed through a set of wooden doors to the rear rooms and increased their pace. They still saw glass everywhere, in door panels, the frames of pictures, the few remaining light bulbs not broken over the years, but nothing as substantial as the roof of the entrance hall.

Finding the room with the hole in the floor, caused by Rachel's mis-steps only a few nights before, they found a figure standing at the edge, staring down into the darkness of Mara's final resting place. Rachel recognised him straight away. The tangled mess of hair, the curious mixture of stubble and curling, long whiskers, the army surplus jacket and the single boot. Dawes. He appeared to stare down towards his own, boot-less, prosthetic foot.

"Dawes?" Releasing Jennifer's hand, Rachel stepped forward, hand raising towards his arm, but pausing mere inches away. "What are you doing here?"

She circled to his side to see a look of madness in his eyes, wide and twitching. She could see he had spent some time here, eyes and cheeks wet with tears. He shook and trembled, staring at his prosthetic and then into the blackness of the hole, before returning to his foot. To the sides, Rachel saw several gas canisters tossed aside and the smell of gasoline trailed up from below.

"Should've done it years ago. Ended it. Should've." His shaking hand reached into the pocket of his army jacket, emerging with something metal that flashed in the light from Rachel's phone. "Soon as I knew. Should've ended it. Right there."

"You're going to burn the place down. I get it, I do." Reaching over, Rachel curled her hand over Dawes', taking the Zippo lighter from him. He didn't resist. "But you don't know if that will stop her."