Alice Isn't Well (Death Herself Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter Two

1941

“It's going to crash!” Wendy shouted, pointing up at the dark sky just as the spluttering, burning plane flew low over the houses. “Come on!”

With Matthew just a few steps behind, Wendy raced along the dark street and then skipped over some rubble as she changed course and bolted down an alley, before emerging on the edge of a section of wasteland. She could hear the plane but couldn't see it, not until it suddenly swooped in low over the top of some nearby houses, with bright flames billowing from one of its stuttering engines.

“It
is
going to crash,” she whispered, her voice filled with shock.

“He's trying to find a safe place to land!” Matthew yelled.

“Then why's he going that way?” Wendy asked, racing across the grass until she reached the far side, which opened out onto the street where she lived. All the light were off for the blackout, so she couldn't see anything around her as she stepped out into the road and looked up.

“His engine's bust,” Matthew continued as he caught up. “You can hear it. He must've been in a dogfight with the Germans. Rotten luck to get hit like that, but I bet he took a hundred of them out first!”

“Where is he?” Wendy asked, hearing the sound of the plane coming closer but still not seeing it over the roofs of the nearby houses.

“Get down!” Matthew screamed. “It's going to hit!”

Suddenly the plane flew straight over, so close that Wendy could feel the heat, and then she turned just in time to see the fuselage crash into the roof of a nearby house and then smash through with immense force. She barely even had time to register that her house was one of the ones that had been hit, before the plane exploded, filling the night sky with a fireball as part of the wreckage continued to tumble through the roofs, sending pieces of brick and metal raining down onto the cobbles. People – she hadn't even realized there were other people around in the darkness – began to scream and cry out.

“Look at it!” Matthew shouted, nudging her arm. “Wendy, look, it's -” He paused for a moment, staring in horror. “Wendy, is that
your
house that got hit?”

Wendy stared in open-mouthed horror as she saw the burning Spitfire slipping down from the damaged roof. A moment later, the plane tipped over and began to fall, before crashing down into the street in a shower of flames, while the roofs of several nearby houses were burning bright.

“Someone get help!” a voice shouted nearby.

“It's okay,” Wendy whispered. “Mum works nights anyway. She's at the hospital, there's no-one home.” She looked at one of the burning houses. “Not in our house, anyway.”

“Good job you snuck out,” Matthew replied. “You'd have been toast.”

She nodded.

“Do you reckon the pilot's dead?” he continued, as they stared at the burning plane. “He must be, mustn't he? I bet he was brave, though. I bet he didn't even scream as he died. The Germans always scream, I saw it in a comic, but Brits are made of stronger stuff.”

Wendy watched as flames roared around the cockpit, and she couldn't help imagining the poor pilot trapped in there, most likely burning to death at that very moment.

“I don't see any bullet-holes on the side,” she said with a frown.

“Watch out!” Matthew shouted suddenly.

Hearing a loud rumbling sound, Wendy looked up just in time to see that the burning roof of one of the houses was starting to collapse. A fraction of a second later, the entire roof came crashing down, chimney and all, into the street, sending up a huge cloud of rubble that quickly filled the air with ash. More people were shouting in the distance, and silhouettes could be seen rushing past the flaming wreckage.

“Cover your mouth!” Matthew said, holding his arm over the lower part of his face.

Wendy did the same, while still staring at the burning plane as she felt the inferno's heat against her skin. The flames were bright, but there almost seemed to be another type of light in there, dancing at the heart of the fire.

“Get 'em all out!” someone was shouting nearby, as people from down the road tried in vain to break into the damaged houses. “Bust 'em open if you have to!”

“He must've been shot down by the Germans,” Matthew said after a moment. “That's the only reason a Spitfire would ever crash. He'd probably been on a bombing raid and got hit, and he was trying to get home. I bet he was on a secret mission to destroy one of Hitler's secret bases. He must've risked his life for the war effort, he's probably a hero!”

Instead of replying, Wendy simply stared at the heart of the burning plane and listened to the sound of roaring flames. She shuddered slightly as she imagined the poor man in there, although she figured he was most likely dead by now. Still, she was certain it must have been an agonizing, painful death, unless he'd been killed during the impact. She knew Matthew was right, that the pilot was a hero, but she still didn't quite understand why a hero should have to die in such a horrible way.

“I hope he got lots of them,” Matthew continued with a frown. “I hope he shot down a hundred of their planes before they hit him. I bet he did. That's what heroes do.”

“I know,” Wendy replied, “but -”

Before she could finish, she saw that something was moving inside the burning plane, a dark shape struggling in the heart of the flames. While everyone else was trying to get people out of the damaged houses, Wendy took a step forward, watching as a few sections of twisted metal fell from the plane's cockpit area. A moment later, she watched in horror as a human figure fell out and landed hard against the cobbles, with flames covering his entire body.

“He's still alive!” she shouted.

“What should we do?” Matthew asked. “Should we -”

Without waiting for him to reply, Wendy ran across the cobbles until she was as close to the burning plane as she dared to get. She paused for a moment, before ducking down under the damaged wing and crawling even closer, while keeping her eyes fixed on the burning pilot.

“Get help!” she shouted, looking back at Matthew for a moment. She couldn't hear her own voice over the sound of the inferno, and the heat made the air seem to shimmer all around. “Get a doctor!”

She turned and saw that the pilot was trying to haul himself up, even as flames roared from his body. He was barely visible in the heart of the fire, except as a dark, vaguely human shape that tried again and again to drag itself away from the wreck. He seemed able to only pull himself along for a few seconds at a time, before stopping for a moment and then trying again.

Reaching out, Wendy knew she had to help him, even if she got hurt in the process.

“This way!” she shouted, trying to grab his hand before pulling back as she felt her palm burning. She tried again and again, but each time the pain was too great. Looking at the skin on the palm of her own hand, she saw it was already blistered.

Nearby, Matthew was shouting something at her, but she couldn't hear him over the roar of the fire.

Trying to crawl toward her, the pilot tilted his head. For a moment, the flames seemed to clear slightly and his melted face was briefly visible. Most of the skin on one side had been completely burned away, revealing fragments of muscle still clinging to his skull, while a few sections of hair were still visible. He stared straight at Wendy for a few seconds, and finally his mouth began to open, as if he was going to say something. For a moment, a faint orange flame seemed to burst from his face and rush toward her.

She waited, unable to take her eyes off the horrific sight.

“You're a hero,” she whispered. “You
are
!”

Slowly, the pilot leaned down toward the ground, as if he was going to sleep. He rested his burning head on the elbow of his right arm, and then he shifted his position a little, almost as if he was trying to get comfortable. After that he didn't move again.

“Come on!” Wendy said to him, trying to make herself heard over the roar of the flames. “You have to get away from the -”

Before she could finish, she heard a loud creaking sound above. When she looked up, she realized that the burning plane was in danger of tipping over right on top of her. She turned back to the pilot and saw that his skull was bare now, and she watched for a moment as the flames ate away at his remaining skin and hair. Unable to stop staring at him, she barely even noticed the pain on her own face and hands, until suddenly she felt someone pulling her back.

“Wendy!” Matthew shouted, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her away from the wreck. “What are you doing? Do you want to go up with it?”

“He's dead,” she whispered, not even struggling anymore as she was pulled well clear of the flames. Only now did she really notice the pain in her own body, and when she looked down at her hands she realized that they were burned red raw. There was pain on her face, too, spreading from her cheeks up past her eyes and onto her forehead and scalp.

“Get a doctor!” Matthew screamed, with a look of horror in his eyes as he stared at her. “Someone get a doctor!”

“What's wrong?” Wendy asked, starting to panic. “Why are you staring at me like that?” She reached up to touch her face, but the pain was too strong as she felt tattered pieces of flesh hanging either from her cheeks or her hands. It was as if her entire face was starting to disintegrate. All around, silhouettes of adults were gathering, looking down at her as flames continued to roar from the burning plane. “Matthew, what's wrong? What's happening to me?”

Chapter Three

Today

“So these monitors cover the whole site?” Alice asked, as she stared at the six old-fashioned TVs that were stacked at one end of the porta-cabin, showing flickery, grainy black-and-white images of various corridors and balconies surrounding the shopping center's atrium. Every few minutes, one of the images switched to another view.

“More or less,” Donald replied as he stirred two cups of tea. “There are a few blind spots, but nothing significant. Insurance, again. Gotta keep the place covered while they wait to knock it down.”

She turned to him. “They're going to knock it down?”

“Haven't you been reading the local papers over the past year?”

She shook her head.

“Tut tut,” he added with a grin. “That's not very civic-minded of you, is it?”

“Why are they going to knock it down?” she asked.

“Looks like it's finally gonna get turned into flats,” he continued, setting a cup in front of her before making his way around the desk and sitting in his swivel chair. He turned a little way in one direction, and then the other, as if he was checking to make sure the chair still worked. “What did the ad in the paper say? That's right, eighty-six luxury flats to be built within the next five years, right here on the site of Barton's Cross. Eight-six, eh? How do you cram eighty-six luxury anythings into a plot this size? And who needs luxury flats, anyway? It's normal, basic houses this area needs, for ordinary working folk. Damn shame, if you ask me. A place like this is a historic monument, it should be kept as a museum or something like that.”

“A museum of what?” she asked.

“Well...” He paused. “Shopping, I suppose. It's a site of historical interest, isn't it? One of Britain's most important shopping malls.”

She paused, trying to work out exactly what he meant, before looking back at the flickering monitors. “I guess.”

“So what were you really in hospital for?” he asked suddenly. “I know you don't
have
to tell me, but the thing is, my boss went a bit back and forth when it came to hiring you. I kind of got the impression that he wasn't sure about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a prejudiced man in any way, but as I was telling my wife Anne last night, I
do
like to know who I'm working with.” He paused. “You're here on a community placement scheme, aren't you? One of those ones where the health authority pays part of your salary?”

She turned back to him.

“It's alright,” he continued, “I get it, community placement schemes are for people who've been out of the community and need a bit of help getting back in. The thing is, they're not normally used for people who've been in hospital, they're more for people who've been in...” He paused, as if he was worried about finishing the sentence. “Well, people who've been in prison or some other kind of forced situation.”

“I haven't been in prison,” she said quickly.

“Okay,” he replied, holding his hands up, “that's fine. I believe you.”

“I was in hospital.”

He grabbed his cup and took a sip. “Obviously I'm not a nosy man and you've got no obligation to tell me, but if we're gonna be working together every night I figure I might as well get to know you a little better. That's how it goes, isn't it, as strangers start to become pals? You exchange stories, talk about your life, just generally chat about things.” Another pause, as if he was waiting for her to suddenly, miraculously open up and tell him her entire life story. “Like I said, I'm not nosy, but I can't help noticing you've got a few scars there.”

“I..” She swallowed hard. “I had an accident.”

“Just the one?” He paused. “Must have been quite big.”

“It's complicated.”

“Of course. You don't want to talk about it, I understand entirely. The last thing I want to do is press you on it.”

“I was...” She paused. “I was told I wouldn't have to discuss it. I was told I was just going to start working, and that everything would get sorted out.”

“Sure, sure,” he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on her. “Like I said, I'm not nosy, and you're totally entitled to keep that barrier between us if that's your wish.” He paused again. “I was in a car crash once,” he added finally. “Not a big one, but enough to give me a scare. Not nice, not nice at all. Was it a car crash you were in?”

She stared at him for a moment, before shaking her head.

“Did you get attacked?”

She shook her head again.

A faint smile crossed his lips. “If I guess right, will you tell me?”

She watched him carefully. “I'd rather not talk about it.”

“Well...” Sighing, he took a sip of tea. “That's your prerogative, of course. Creates a bit of a wall between us, but if that's how you want things, I most certainly don't intend to push you.” Another sip. “As long as you're not a danger or anything like that.” He waited for a reply. “Then again, they wouldn't put you in a position like this if you were a danger, would they?”

She paused, before turning to look at the monitors again. “I suppose not. I'm not a danger.”

“Which is a bit of a relief,” he continued. “I mean, I'm all for people getting second chances, but you need to balance that with the best interests of the community at large.” He paused, watching the side of her face and, after a moment, spotting another scar on her neck. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but he quickly thought better of it and took a sip of tea instead. “Like I said,” he added finally, “I'm not a nosy man -”

“I saw something,” she said suddenly, pointing at the monitor on the top right shelf.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Just a flicker,” she replied, turning to him, “but I definitely saw something move. Like a shadow, maybe, going from right to left across the floor.”

“A shadow of what?”

“I don't know.”

He paused. “Probably a leaf.”

“It wasn't a leaf.”

“Mouse, then.”

She shook her head.

“You need to be a bit more specific, love,” he continued, with a faint, condescending smile. “If you saw it, you should be able to describe it, otherwise you didn't really see it, did you?”

She swallowed hard. “It was bigger than a badger.”

“Probably just a trick of the light, then,” he replied. “You're jumpy, it's your first night -”

“It wasn't a trick of the light.”

He sighed. “I'm not doubting you, but -”

“Should we go and check it out?”

“The odds of someone breaking in on your very first night -”

“Rewind it and you'll see.”

He sighed again. “I can't rewind anything,” he told her. “The cameras aren't recording, they're just for our benefit, so we can see what's going on out there, in real time. No-one's willing to pay to let the damn things record all that footage, we have to press a button if we want to get it on tape. And yes, we still use tape, that's how wonderfully advanced the technology is around here.” Pausing, he watched her for a moment. “Alright, then,” he said finally. “You think you saw something? Go take a look.” Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out a flashlight and rolled it toward her. “I think we'll hold back on the taser for now, you need more training on that, but go see what you can find. That monitor you pointed at is on the third floor.”

“Aren't you coming with me?”

“Standard procedure is for one security operative to man the desk while the other goes to check out initial reports of a possible breach,” he replied, clearly quoting one of the training manuals word-for-word. “You've got a radio with you. If you need back-up, you can call in for it.” He paused again. “It'll be good for you. Go out there and get a feel for the place, and don't worry if you feel a little spooked on your first night, that's only natural. I've got to admit, even
I
sometimes find it a bit weird here. There's just something not right about a shopping center with all its lights off. If you ask me, it's a tragedy what they've done with this place. It's like walking around inside a dead whale.”

Picking up the flashlight, she turned to look back at the monitor. “I know I saw something,” she muttered. “I didn't imagine it.”