Inferno(100)

She pulled me into her. I wrapped my arms around her neck, expecting the softness of her hair and the gentle scent of her lavender perfume. Her arms were like reeds, slimy and cold. They fell away, withering to the ground. I frowned, pulling back. Her hair was stringy and damp, her perfume like wet earth. I tasted ash in my mouth. I blinked and her face disappeared. I turned and the blackness engulfed me.

‘Sophie?’

Inside, my body cracked and splintered. Heat surged through me, scalding me. Outside, my arms and legs sprawled in puddles, shaking with cold.

Where was she?

Where was I?





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

TRAGEDY



GAS EXPLOSION DESTROYS FAMILY

DINER; OWNER’S WIFE PERISHES IN FIRE

One person was killed and three more were injured in an explosion and resulting fire that levelled local family diner, Gracewell’s, in Cedar Hill on Sunday night.

Celine Gracewell, wife of owner Michael Gracewell, was present at the time of the explosion, and was pronounced dead at the scene. Her daughter, along with two of her friends, was also inside the restaurant. It is reported that Gracewell’s daughter attempted to go back into the fire to rescue her mother, but was unable to.

Preliminary investigations suggest a gas leak was to blame for the destruction, setting off a fire which spread rapidly through the rest of the building. Police have yet to determine an official cause for the explosion, and investigations are ongoing. They are also looking to talk to Jack Gracewell, acting manager of the diner, who has been not been contactable since the incident.

Located on the corner of Foster and Oak in downtown Cedar Hill, Gracewell’s has been a favourite family establishment for over fifteen years.

Celine Gracewell, 43, a local dressmaker and part-owner of the establishment, was standing close to the gas leak at the time of the blast, and lost her life on impact, it has been reported. Since the explosion, neighbours and friends have been leaving tributes at the site. As city workers and electric utility experts tore through the rubble this morning, many gathered in the street to pay their respects.

Ursula Nguyen, assistant manager at the diner for ten years, was inconsolable as she laid her wreath among the others. Of Celine Gracewell, she said, ‘She was a wonderful person. Always smiling, always happy. It’s such a loss for the whole neighborhood. I’m devastated for her daughter.’

Rita Bailey, long-time resident of Cedar Hill, was visibly stunned as she visited the site to see the destruction, commenting, ‘I’m reeling. How could anyone have seen this coming? This is such a tragic thing to happen.’

Details of Celine Gracewell’s memorial service have not been released. It is not known whether the diner will be rebuilt.





PART V

‘I come to lead you to the other shore;

into the eternal darkness;

into fire and into ice.’

Dante Alighieri, ‘ Inferno’





CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

DARKNESS



They told me I was in shock.

I didn’t feel the shock. There was just emptiness, like someone had tipped me over and rattled me until everything fell out. My arms were red, the skin behind my wrists rising in angry blisters towards my elbows. I couldn’t feel it. I studied the white gauze as it encircled my flesh, pressing against the angry wound. A nurse cut the ends of my singed hair. They put salve on my ears. I hadn’t noticed they were burnt. They gave me tablets and I took them.

When they talked to me, their tones dipped, and I watched chapped lips moving around exaggerated syllables. Is there someone we can call? Brows creased. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Sophie? A gentle hand laid on top of mine. Do you have someone you can stay with?

A policewoman escorted me to my house. I don’t remember what time it was when I shut the door behind me. I trudged upstairs, my brain still thick with fog. I sat beneath the showerhead, feeling cold beads sprinkle away the smoke that clung to my skin. My body was blotched with red. The shampoo lathered away the rancid scent of rotting and I emerged, naked and zombie-like, into an empty house without understanding why it was empty.

As morning dawned, grief reached its fingers inside my head and plucked me from my deadened sleep. Understanding hit me like a slash of sunlight through my curtains and I sprang into wakefulness, coughing black sludge across my pillow.

Screams ripped from my chest as the pain soared, every memory colliding at once until she was everywhere, her face etched behind my eyelids when I blinked.

I collapsed on to the floor, curling my arms tight around my knees until I was as small as I could make myself. Tears pooled inside me, blooming across my chest, but I couldn’t get them out. I couldn’t weep or cry and the tears bled inside me, icy and unshed.