The Hurst Chronicles (Book 1): Hurst (18 page)

It was dinnertime downstairs and one of the Sisters was ringing an old-fashioned brass hand-bell, summoning all the residents to the hall where a buffet dinner was laid out. Two enormous stainless steel receptacles sat steaming, fresh from the kitchen. The smell was sensational. Fresh vegetable soup and a rich beef chilli served with fluffy white basmati rice. Any hot dinner was one to be savoured. Two scrawny-looking women, with mean faces and skin wrinkled like old leather, were slopping generous portions onto bowls held out in turn by the next person in line. They reminded Riley of the school dinner ladies at her secondary school, with grey checked aprons and unfashionable hairnets. One of the younger girls was in charge of rationing one piece of bread and one slice of Victoria sponge cake for desert. Apparently the cake was a rare treat, it being one of the women’s birthday today. Adele ran up and joined Riley from where she’d been sitting with two other young girls about her own age.

“Hey kiddo. What ya been doing? Staying clear of the God squad?” asked Riley.

Adele looked puzzled. “Er, yeah I guess. Riley, when are we getting out of this dump, it’s so, so boring here. No one lets you do anything. It’s all ‘do this, do that, don’t do this, don’t do that’. Work, work, work. My fingers are red raw from peeling potatoes all afternoon in the kitchen.”

“You poor thing. Sounds terrible. Have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah, although the food’s horrible.” One of the dinner ladies looked up and gave her a dirty look. Adele stared back defiantly but then turned away, her cheeks flushed. Riley got her food and found a spot at the far end of a long table just big enough for two if the three current occupants nudged down. They motioned to sit down and the other women paused in their conversation but made no attempt to accommodate them. The pair perched uncomfortably on the end of the bench seat and jostled elbows until their fellow diners reluctantly budged up before resuming their conversation and ignoring them some more.

“I saw Zed. He’s awake. Feeling a lot better. Reckon he’ll be fit enough to move him back to Hurst first thing in the morning. Have you seen Stella and the others?”

“Stella was at evening prayers. I think Mila was still outside helping in the garden.”

Sister Theodora glided between the tables pausing to make small talk like a visiting politician. She greeted several of the residents by name on her way to her private dining room at the far end, doing her bit for community relations. She paused at Riley and Adele’s table, aware of eyes watching furtively from all the surrounding groups.

“I do hope you’re settling in well. Sister Imelda tells me you’ve all worked hard and done your bit, earned your supper, shall we say. I do hope that, in time, you will come to understand and appreciate how we run things round here.”

“Oh don’t worry, we’re not staying. As soon as Zed is better, we’re leaving.”

“That’s disappointing. We were rather hoping that you’d all decide to stay for a little bit longer.”

“What about Zed and Joe? I don’t suppose you’ve softened your views on men in the last twenty four hours?”

“I’m afraid not. Quite the opposite actually. The presence of men has provided a useful reminder to one and all that this commune was established to provide sanctuary and freedom from oppression. Nothing has changed for any of us, nor will it any time soon. It was only your kindness towards Stella that made us bend our rules for the night. And then of course the injury and fever delayed your departure.  Nevertheless, the men must leave this place. As I’m sure you can understand…”

Riley interrupted, infuriated by the high-handedness of the Sister. “No, I’m afraid I don’t understand. I’ll never understand.”

“Well in that case, perhaps it’s better that you are leaving. We have tried to open your eyes, but if you choose not to see, then I cannot help you. My dear, turning a blind eye to evil doesn’t make evil disappear. By ignoring something you sustain it. Gender slavery and men’s brutality will only get worse, unless you take a stand. The only person you are fooling is yourself. I will bid you a good evening.” She turned and with a swish of her starched habit, she brushed past them and was gone. Riley clenched her fists, ready to explode, aware of others watching her. When she had regained control of her emotions she glanced across the table at Adele who was pulling a face at her, eyes-crossed and tongue lolling on her bottom lip, trying to make Riley laugh. It worked. Riley shook her head and leaned in to whisper “Silly woman. Who does she think she is?”

After dinner, they stacked their plates and put their trays back in the rack and wandered outside, engrossed in conversation. Riley was telling Adele all about life at Hurst, their routines, the people she would meet, the views over the sea and surrounding coastline. It was a beautiful clear evening, their shoes crunching on the gravel as they walked together, side-by-side, Adele’s hand finding Riley’s and falling into step with her. They headed down through the courtyard past several parked vehicles to find Joe who was in one of the outbuildings locked up with the other men. The guard they had seen earlier was sitting just outside the stable block drinking her coffee. She was reading a paperback novel with embossed lettering on the front, some trashy romance. The guard glanced up, aware of their presence, but did not make eye contact. She raised a finger to acknowledge them as she finished her page, turning the corner and placing the book neatly back on the table. Without saying a word, she got slowly to her feet clutching her lower back and wincing. She reached for the set of keys in front of her and beckoned them to follow. 

At the back of the building block, along a crumbling old brick wall were some gabled doors, each stable padlocked. She wrestled with the lock before unhooking the latch, swung the door open just wide enough for the two visitors to squeeze through. As she closed and locked it again, she called out in a gruff voice that they were to knock when they were done and she’d come back and let them out again.

Inside it was surprisingly dark, with a single window covered with cobwebs and years of accumulated grime. It took a couple of seconds for their eyes to adjust before locating Joe in the darkness. He was lying on a low camp bed with his arms behind his head day-dreaming.

“How you doing trouble?” said Riley playfully. She sat on the side of the bed, leaning back against the bare brickwork and hugging her knees, a shiver suddenly rippling through her back and shoulders. Adele kept her distance and nervously stood by the door, suddenly unsure of herself in Joe’s company.

“Can’t complain,” said Joe with a sigh, pulling his sweater down over his bulging stomach.

“You sound very cheery for a bloke locked up in a dingy stable.”

He smiled and rolled on his side to face her. There was an unexpected contented glow about him. “Well, can’t say I’ve ever been anywhere like this before. Not sure I want to leave now.”

“What are you talking about? We can’t wait to get out of this dump.”

“The women here are not like any I’ve met before, just…to die for.” He sounded dreamy, as if he’d just woken up.

“Have you gone soft in the head or what? What are you talking about?”

“Oh they’ve kept me pretty busy. I’ve barely had a moment to myself. I’ll have you know that I’m now a fully signed up member of their breeding program.”

Riley laughed in shock. “Please tell me you’re kidding?”

“Nope, not a bit of it. Two visitors today already. All wanting the same thing.” He put his arms behind his head, looking very pleased with himself. “No complaints from me. I’ve been more than happy to oblige.”

“Gross,” said Adele. “That’s disgusting.”

“Not to me,” said Joe defiantly. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me. I feel like a gigolo. Never had such fun. Never want to leave.”

“You dirty dog. You look like you’ve died and gone to heaven,” said Riley. “It’s grim though Joe. Don’t you find it demeaning? It’s borderline inhuman keeping you and the others locked up like this and being forced to mate.” He was smiling, enjoying her superciliousness, listening intently to her protestations of injustice and morality.

“But hey, I can see it’s pointless arguing with you. You’re like a cat that’s got the cream.”

“Too right. Beyond my wildest dreams.”

She laughed, in spite of how she felt about the situation.  Riley told him about Zed and the others. “As soon as Zed is fit enough to walk, we’re out of here. With or without you. If you want to stay here and live like this, fair play. But we need to get back to Hurst.”

Joe nodded. It felt like days since they’d left Hurst, but in reality it was less than forty-eight hours. Riley became pensive, thinking about their friends back at home base, suddenly worried at how long they had been gone. “They’ll be wondering what’s happened to us by now. And I’m starting to think those guys from the hospital will come looking for us, whether they follow the trail here or go straight to Hurst. If this place gets attacked, we’re all too vulnerable here. It’s a miracle they’ve lasted this long. Unless the Sisters have done a deal and got a local group protecting them. In return for what though? Food? Favours perhaps.”

“Can’t we stay a few more days Riley? I’m just beginning to like it here,” pleaded Joe.

“Dream on buddy. You can’t live like this. Hurst needs you. You’ve got a job to do. Back in the real world.”

He didn’t respond, but he knew she was right. “OK, OK. Just come and get me in the morning when you’re ready to leave. If I’m not too busy, I suppose I could come with you, tear myself away from all this hard labour.”

“That’s the spirit. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Riley patted Joe on the calf and sauntered over to the door. She lingered for a second, taking in the squalour of Joe’s confinement, light streaming through a large hole from a knot in the wood. She rapped her knuckles loudly on the stable door and waited for the guard to let them out.

“See you tomorrow, stud.”

Chapter thirty-five

At ten o’clock sharp, Riley, Mila and Adele were escorted back to the drawing room where they had slept the first night. Sister Theodora enforced a strict curfew at Chewton Glen. Every resident was expected to be in her own room, with lights out at ten thirty. It reminded Riley of the summer activity camps her parents had sent her on, but without any of the fun.

Adele had fallen asleep waiting for the grown-ups to finish their conversations. When it was time for bed, Riley struggled to lift her, almost falling on top of her placing one of Adele’s arms snaking sleepily round her neck, clinging on. Adele's head lolled on Riley’s shoulder. Her bare arm was thin and bruised, hanging limply, swinging from side to side with each stride. Adele looked peaceful, her fair skin was the colour of milk, almost translucent in the dim light of the candle. Walking behind the pair, Mila tilted her head and smoothed back a lock of fair hair that had fallen across Adele’s face. She leaned in and kissed her on the cheek while they were waiting for the door to be unlocked.

It had been an enjoyable evening all in all, with Riley attempting to avoid eye contact with Sister Theodora. She was still seething from their earlier exchanges. Sister Mel had kindly insisted that Riley and Mila be their guests of honour for a whole programme of entertainment organized by the social committee. The evening was made up of a general knowledge quiz, an open-microphone style session with someone playing along on acoustic guitar, finished off with a young girl with an accomplished theatrical voice, reading animatedly from Charles Dickens’s 
Great Expectations
. Stella came with them to the door of the drawing room where they were sleeping. She made sure they still had blankets and pillows and then stood aside as one of the guards locked them in for the night.

Riley stared at the empty leather sofa where Zed had slept the previous night and thought about him in his weakened state upstairs. She had checked in on him again after dinner but he was still spark out. A plasma drip was attached to his arm, replenishing lost fluids. His complexion was regaining some of its usual colour as the medicine worked its magic.

The group had just settled down, blankets tucked under chins, eyes closed, drifting off to sleep when someone started ringing the dinner bell with an unmistakeable degree of urgency. Mila sat up, startled and asked Riley what was going on. It could mean only one of two things: they were under attack or there was a fire. Either way, they were in danger.

Adele started banging on the door and rattled the handle, shouting at the top of her voice to be let out. There was no answer. They were in a remote part of the hotel, far from the main living quarters, way down a long corridor. She peered through the keyhole but all she could see was the far wall and a doorway to another room. She put her mouth to the keyhole and shouted again.

Riley pushed Adele out the way and put her eye to the keyhole. If it wasn’t her imagination there was a thin veil of smoke beginning to form, drifting along the corridor, just under the ceiling. Riley banged louder on the door and together they shouted for help. In the room above them, they could hear footsteps and a loud bang that sounded like something heavy being knocked over.

Mila unfastened the catch on the sash window and tried to heave it open. It was locked and fastened by security bolts to prevent burglars from gaining access without the key. Nevertheless the pane of thickened glass wasn't double-glazed so they should be able to smash through with sufficient application.

They tried banging on the door several more times but there was still no answer. Outside in the hallway, the smoke was hanging heavier from the ceiling, slowly filling all skylights, apertures and recesses moving towards them down the corridor. The smell of fire and burning wood and plastic was unmistakable. They heard the bell being rung again, this time more insistent, this time more distant. Had the rest of the hotel residents forgotten all about them?

Riley picked up a wooden chair and tested its weight. “Stand back, I’m going to break the glass.” She had a practice swing and then threw the chair with all her might towards the window.

One of the chair legs folded inwards, coming off second best in the collision against the frame of the original sash window. It bounced back harmlessly without making any impact on the glass itself. She tried again, this time with Mila’s help. Instead of throwing it, they used the chair leg as a battering ram. With the first attempt, the glass cracked diagonally, but did not break. The second shattered the glass into a dozen pieces and the lower half of the pane fell down and broke on to the thick pile of the carpet and flowerbed outside. They knocked out the remaining intact pieces and laid a blanket over the frame to stop themselves from being cut by the shards at the bottom. They lifted Adele through the empty window, still groggy from sleep, passing her with some difficulty to Riley standing on the other side. Riley's feet sank deep into the earth with the weight of her load, as the pointed thorns of a rose bush scratched at her arms.

Outside in the cool night air, it was strangely quiet on this far side of the building, furthest away from the fire. There was a moonless cloudy sky. The light was eerily bright and strangely incongruous. An orange glow lit up the sky. As Adele woke shivering, something reminded her of November the fifth, fireworks night. She half expected to find a towering bonfire, explosions in a million colours and sparkles above their heads.

Mila grabbed her hand and they raced round to the other side of the building where they found a hive of activity. Smoke was pouring from two of the upper windows on the second floor, curling into the night sky. Fire had broken through the roof in one section further down. There was a line of around twenty women passing bucket load after bucket load of water hand over hand. They scooped water green with algae from the ornamental pond. Inside the French doors that led into the lobby area, there was another human chain passing the full buckets slopping up the stairs, towards the source of the fire.

With a shudder, Riley remembered Zed was likely still in the infirmary on the second floor. Common sense told her it was hopeless to try and reach him. She remembered her brief stint as the volunteer fire marshal at the surgery she worked at. Rule one was to get everyone out safely and wait for the fire brigade. The only problem was no-one was coming to help. Either she went in herself or Zed would die. In his weakened state, he couldn’t possibly get out on his own. She made up her mind. She had to reach him. It was up to her.

She hurried inside heading towards the staircase but Sister Georgina held her hand up to stop her. “It’s too dangerous. No-one’s allowed up there.”

“Try and stop me,” said Riley pushing past her. The Sister lunged after her to grab her sleeve but Riley was already gone, taking the stairs two at a time. She passed a gaggle of women coming back down, their buckets empty, ready to be refilled.

On the first floor landing, the human chain bent right towards the crackle and roar of the fire. She could hear raised voices shouting instructions, a note of panic as they fought to regain control. Riley shielded her face against the stifling heat and could see flames not twenty meters away down the corridor in one of the bedrooms on the first floor. The infirmary was higher up on the next floor up. The stairs were deserted and dark. She knew she had to be quick. The flames had already broken through between floors.

She was half way up the next staircase when she stopped dead. She had a sudden powerful sense of déjà vu. Instinct told her what she needed to do first. She dived into one of the bathrooms and grabbed a bath towel hanging on a peg, soaked it in a bowl of grey water left out for washing hands. Wrapping the towel around her head, she poured the rest of the water over her head and shoulders soaking her clothes to keep them cool and protect her against the heat. 

She slowed her pace and tested her weight on each of the steps, suddenly afraid she might trip and fall, unsure of what lay ahead. There was a heavy fire door that granted access to the corridor that led to the infirmary. There was silence up here, suspiciously quiet, no sign of flames, but heavy smoke hung heavy from the ceiling all the way down to waist height. There was an impenetrable wall of heat and cloying fumes. It was impossible to get to him. She could feel the smoke catch in her throat, struggling to catch her breath in the heat. The cool towel wrapped round her head was already steaming as the water evaporated.

She got down on her hands and knees and tried crawling along the carpet staying low just underneath the layer of smoke. Lower down the heat was less intense, the air easier to breathe through the damp towel she was clutching to her mouth. Even so, there was an increasingly acrid smell that was overpowering. She started coughing, fighting for breath, gulping air greedily and feeling the panic begin to rise in her throat. She felt nauseous and spat on the carpet.

She shook her head to try and regain focus and continued on her hands and knees, feeling for the doorways to her left. First room was closed and locked, second one was the nurse’s station, but the door was wide open and the room empty. The nurse had gone. Perhaps Zed was already safe. She had to check to be sure. Third door down was Zed’s room. It was closed but thankfully not locked.

She put her weight against the door and levered it open with some difficulty. It felt as if she was fighting against an invisible force. Zed was beginning to stir, dreaming feverishly again, oblivious to the drama that was unfolding all around him. As the door closed shut behind her, it felt like all the air was being sucked out, as if a vacuum had been broken. The nurse had left a top window ajar in the corner and the fire sucked hungrily at this fresh source of air and oxygen. Behind her, she heard a funnelling of air as the flames leapt, rejuvenated. She didn’t have much time.

She shook Zed by the shoulders, whispering his name softly. His eyes flickered open, groggy and disoriented, then closed again. She tried again, shouting this time, an edge of panic creeping into her voice: “Zed, wake up, wake up.”

He stirred, his eyes wide, blinking at her, still vacant and far away. She slapped him hard across his left cheek and then resumed shaking him by the shoulders. The nurse must have given him something to help him sleep. She raised her hand to strike him again but his free hand rose up to grab her wrist before she made contact.

“OK Riley. Enough already. I’m awake.”

“There’s no time to explain. We need to go right now. There’s a fire. I’ll help you up.”

He got gingerly to his feet, his legs weak and unbalanced. She supported his large frame, holding him tightly around his waist and maneuvered him towards the door which had swung closed again. At first the door appeared locked, vacuum sealed by the difference in air pressure, but she hauled it open with all her might. As she did so the roar of flames grew suddenly louder and from the far end of the corridor came a surge of heat.

Riley pushed Zed down to the floor and dived on top of him as an explosion of heat and flame enveloped them and swept past them into the infirmary, blasting the door half off its hinges. Riley could taste soot and burning human hair in her mouth and nose. She got Zed on to his hands and knees and they started crawling side by side towards the stairwell. The smoke was cloying and darker now, only a few inches from the carpet. It was hopeless now, she couldn’t see anything, tears rolling down her cheeks. The heat behind them was intense. Zed’s whole body convulsed with coughing but she encouraged him onwards, grabbing his good arm and half hauling him a few more inches towards safety.

The fire door stood resolute in front of them, a formidable barrier to both them and what followed closely behind. If they could just get to the end of the corridor and beyond, they would be clear, but the whole corridor was now completely dark, a wall of choking smoke. It was only by feeling her way along the wall and counting the doorways that she realized they must be within touching distance. But where was the door? Had it been blown off its hinges by the blast?

Her breathing was coming in short rasps. Zed was finished and near to collapse. She reached out along the carpet, stretching and hoping. It seemed to be growing hotter by the second. The carpet fibres were melting and sticky to the touch from the heat below and all around. The corridor had become a furnace and would soon to become their tomb. She thrust her hand out one last time and touched the flat painted surface of the fire door, its paint was just beginning to blister. Her fingers found the edge of the door and she managed to prise it open, forcing it outwards. The rush of cooler air was delicious and intoxicating.

The two of them half stood and fell outwards on to the landing, pulling Zed’s legs clear to allow the fire door to close. They both lay there for a few seconds with their chests heaving, panting hard, trying to get their breath back before a darkness enveloped Riley.