Amara made contact with the dinner table. It's thick legs slid across the floor, moving it closer to the corner of the burning room.
Launa pinned Amara to the table. “Amara, we need to get out of here!” Blood dripped from the wound on her head.
Amara blinked at the sensation of blood striking her brow. She turned her head to one side and struggled to free her wrists from Launa's grip. “You cannot leave here, Launa!”
“Why not? Have you gone mad!”
Amara looked straight at Launa. “He bit you.”
The weight of those words hit Launa hard. So much so, she relaxed her grip on Amara.
Seizing the moment, Amara pulled one of her wrists free and grabbed Launa by the hair.
Launa let out a cry and fought to free herself.
Amara sat up straight and moved away from the table. She now had Launa's hair in both hands, and started to drag her across the room.
By now, Kaline's body was fully ablaze, as was the remainder of the bedding she had laid down for Launa. Much of the surrounding floor was also on fire.
"Amara!" Launa cried. “
Please
!”
Amara gave a determined grunt and put more effort into pulling Launa's hair. She dragged the woman over to the worktop then looked for something she could use. She spotted a knife; a large one. She let go of Launa's hair with one hand and reached for it.
Launa stopped resisting Amara. Instead, she rushed her, forcing the other woman against the worktop. She heard Amara cry out and felt the grip on her hair fall away. She was free again.
Amara grasped for the knife. Her fingers touched the handle then curled around it.
Launa decided she could still make it through the doorway if she ran fast enough. Any other method of attempted escape would result in a struggle with Amara, and that would only waste precious time, not to mention running the risk of her not being able to leave this place at all.
Bracing herself, she rushed for the exit. But no sooner had she started to run, her mind exploded with pain and she collapsed to the floor. She looked back and saw a knife sticking out of the calf of her right leg. Amara had stabbed her, but must have lost her footing in the process, because she was on the floor and crawling.
Launa gripped the handle of the knife and pulled. It barely moved. Waves of previously unimaginable pain swept over her. The room was becoming a blur. She took a deep breath and pulled again.
The blade slid free.
“Do not come near me!” she warned, and pointed the knife at Amara.
Amara stopped where she was. She wiped the blood from her eyes. From the corner of her right eye she could see the pot she'd struck Launa with before. “I cannot let you leave, Launa.”
Launa held the knife in both hands now. The tip of the blade trembled. “Then we shall both die here.”
Amara looked at Launa with incredulity. “You would condemn me to death when I have not been bitten? Is it not enough I have lost my entire family?”
“Your father murdered Pavaine!” Launa cried. “I am with his child!” Tears began to fill her eyes. “I, too, have nothing.”
Amara looked at Launa. If it could be any other way she would not be doing this. She felt nothing but sorrow for this terrified woman before her. But she could not allow her to leave this place, to become what her father had become; to destroy the lives of others.
The smoke was beginning to sting Amara's eyes and disrupt her vision. If she did not strike now, she feared Launa might get away.
“Amara,” Launa sobbed, the knife in her hand trembling more than ever. “
I am frightened
.”
Amara shook her head - “I am so very sorry” - then swung the pot at Launa's head.
*
The first thing Launa saw when her eyes reopened was fire: above and all around her. She bolted upright, coughing. Part of the roof fell in over the hearth, exposing the night sky. She let out a startled cry. She had to get out of here. But how? She noticed the door to the bedrooms was shut. Amara must have dragged Malkin from the doorway and closed it. There was no sign of Amara. Perhaps she'd escaped through a bedroom window.
Launa struggled to her feet. Her calf hurt and her head throbbed. The side of her face was wet with blood. She hobbled over to the closed door and tried the handle. It was locked. Crying with frustration, she tried to force it open. Sadly, her efforts proved fruitless. Amara had left her only one exit. She turned. The entire front wall of the cabin was completely engulfed in flame. Her doorway to freedom was barely visible.
Launa realized she was going to die in this room if she didn't do something fast. But what? There was no way she could make it through the doorway without serious injury.
Unless
…
Surprisingly, the blanket covering Andred's legs was only starting to burn. She tore it from his body and beat it against the floor. Once the flames were extinguished, she wrapped it around her right arm several times, making sure to completely cover her hand. She then turned to the burning worktop and set her sights on what she was after: the large iron pot Kaline had washed the plates in.
Steeling her nerves, she reached into the flames with her blanketed arm. She quickly found one of the pot's handles, and pulled. The container was moderately heavy, but slid from the worktop with relative ease. It landed on the floor with a thud. Warm water sloshed over the side, extinguishing the flames on her arm and splashing her bare legs and feet.
Another part of the roof collapsed; this time onto the dinner table. Launa found herself cowering. She had to get out of here now or the next piece of falling debris might land on her head.
She hastily unwrapped her arm and dipped the blanket into the pot. There was just enough water remaining to completely soak it. Once she had it thoroughly wet, she removed it from the container and threw it over her head. It covered her shoulders and most of her back. It felt uncomfortably warm.
A large portion of flaming timber crashed to the floor in front of the cabin entrance.
Launa cried out with a mixture of anger and despair. She was going to have to leap over the debris to escape. She wasn't even sure she would be able to achieve this, but what other option did she have?
She covered her mouth with part of the blanket and took a deep breath.
Do not think about it, just do it
.
Keeping the blanket pulled tightly around her neck, she ran towards the burning doorway. Her wounded leg felt surprisingly good. Somewhere to the right of her, a significant part of the cabin collapsed in on itself. She paid it no attention. She was almost out of this nightmare. All she had to do now was jump.
Suddenly, she was struck in the chest with so much force it not only stopped her in her tracks, but sent her reeling backwards.
The blanket slid from her shoulders and dropped to the floor.
Launa gazed in disbelief at the large ax embedded in her chest.
How
...?
She looked to the fiery doorway. Just beyond it, stood Amara, watching.
There came a loud crack from above.
She looked up ... and witnessed the collapse of her world into suffocating darkness.
*
Amara let out a horrified cry when the cabin roof fell in on Launa. Her entire body trembled and her stomach was in knots. She sunk to her knees. The horror of what had happened here tonight, at what she had just done, was overwhelming.
She wept uncontrollably until the break of day.
The first of the sun's rays to strike her face caused her to squint. Slowly, she got to her feet. Her muscles ached, but not as much as before. She stood for some time, watching the bright orange shafts penetrate the treetops. Eventually, however, the unbroken sunlight became harder to bear, and she found her skin becoming irritable.
She turned her attention to the cabin. Its charred remains popped and crackled, and wisps of dark smoke spiraled into the brightening sky. It was nothing more than a shell. A funeral pyre.
A reflection of her inner self
.
Amara turned her back on the cabin and walked towards the treeline; the first ghost of the new day, too numb to contemplate what might lie ahead, or whether anything could, or even should.
02:07 am ...
“Aren't you pleased to see your sister?”
Amber doesn't know where to begin. She's looking at a ghost from a very long time ago dressed in modern attire.
Looking mildly amused, the woman approaches Amber. “I don't suppose you've forgotten me, or my name. I mean, how could you forget? There are some things even the passing of centuries can't erase, right?”
Amber remains quiet.
“Anyway, I stopped using the name Launa ages ago. Most people thought I had a speech impediment - I know, they're so completely dumb - so I changed it to Laura.”
Laura looks straight at Amber. “Seriously,
Amara
, I'd expect you to have something to say right about now.”
“Launa, I-”
“It's
Lau-ra
.”
Amber folds her arms and takes a breath. “Laura...” Her speech trails off. What can she say that would even come close to being appropriate?
“Struggling to justify something?” Laura says.
Amber takes a few moments to carefully choose her approach. “There's nothing I can say that can justify what I did to you.”
Laura considers Amara's reply. “Are you sure about that? Weren't you just trying to
save the World
from another maniac like your father?"
That, of course, is exactly what Amber had been trying to do. Only after succumbing to the same condition as her father, however, had she realized the infection didn't change who you fundamentally were - a revelation which raised disturbing questions regarding his crazed behavior that night. He'd obviously been a closet lunatic all along.
“Look, Launa – Laura - what I did to you was wrong. I made a terrible mistake.”
Laura contemplates Amber's words. “So tell me you're sorry.”
An awkward silence follows, after which, Amber says to Laura: “I'm sorry.”
Laura closes her eyes and tries on the apology for size. When she reopens them, she says: “No ... sorry is no good.”
It's obvious to Amber that Laura isn't looking for an apology. So why, then, is she on this train? It's surely not by accident. "What, exactly, do you want?”
Laura looks coldly at Amber. “I'd have settled for a husband and my child until I met you.”
Screwball and Wendy exchange glances.
“Well we both know that's not going to happen,” Amber says, “No matter how long you stand here crucifying me.”
“Is that what I'm doing?” Laura says. “Crucifying you? Oh, you poor thing - tell me, does it hurt?”
“What do you think?” Amber replies.
“I think I want you to tell me.”
“Okay ... whatever you want. Yes. It hurts. Guilt hurts. You happy now?”
“You know,” Laura begins, “I didn't even know you were alive until yesterday. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you in the street. For some unfathomable reason, you have one of those faces I can’t seem to forget. I walked right past you and you never even noticed me, had to resist the urge to confront you then and there. Same thing when I passed you in the other car several minutes ago.”
“Is this going somewhere?” Amber asks. “Because if it is, I'd rather you just get it over with.”
“Okay," Laura says. "I've had my fun. I might as well tell you. It's Michael. He's a wanted man.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Well of course you don't. You only just met him. But he's the reason I'm in New York. I called him up and pretended to be a client, arranged a meet with him.”
Amber remembers Michael mentioning something about a client in the diner. “And?”
“And I'm the one he followed into the club, couldn't get enough of my scent.” Laura looks Amber up and down. “I even dressed similar to you ...
like a slut
. He must like that kind of thing - anyway, the bottom line is that I've been pulling his strings for the last forty-eight hours.”
Amber's patience finally runs out. “Just what the hell are you trying to accomplish here?”
“I'm not
trying
anything,” Laura replies. “It's done.”
“An' I thought my family was weird,” Screwball says.
Amber looks over at Screwball and Wendy. “She's not my sister.”
“I'm confused,” Wendy says. “Why would she say she is?”
Amber shifts her attention to Laura. “Because she's fucked in the head.”
“Ooh,” Laura says, “you're all tough these days. But then, under that innocent veneer, you always were.”