The Aftermath
(And Slowly The Women Laid Their Plans Against Them.)
Most people took the two women for sisters, some for mother and daughter. The younger of the two would tease the older one about it but the teasing was gentle. Both women had lost so much, all they had now was each other, and any attempt to lighten their spirits was uncertain.
People would see it in them and men would never approach them despite their unkempt beauty. Each wore an armour made of loss and pain, and it was as obvious to those who passed as a neon sign.
They sat in the diner’s corner for an hour before the younger woman recognised it. When she did she almost cried out in sudden, unfathomable pain, but she caught herself in time. The memory was a shard of broken glass in her side, but it would hurt the other woman too, so she kept it to herself. She could see the spot where she had first seen him, and his ghost remained in her mind’s eye. The image was so strong that she almost called to him.
The woman who served them was called ‘Allannah’, and the younger woman thought she recognised her too. She had served them their coffee and key lime pie, both were delicious and then she left them to their plans. The waitress’s eyes had been tired and she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world.
Careful what you wish for, the young woman thought.
After the waitress had left they opened the map out across the table. There were already lines drawn across it. Here and there a line had been erased and redrawn as they reconsidered their route, but the last time they had done that had been days ago, and they both thought the plan was coming together.
They had never discussed the results they expected from their plan. Neither had ever spoken openly about how they expected their story to end. Their thoughts went as far as the next objective and no further. They both knew why, but they didn’t speak of this either. The younger woman knew that the world was against them, but she had always felt that way, at least now she had company.
The women were at the point now where they both knew they were procrastinating. While it was just an idea they were both enthusiastic, but now they were doing, not planning, and it had become real to them both. They both still believed – they had little choice to believe – but they were no longer eager for the beginning of the end to come so soon. The younger of the two still wanted a life, but the older one had seen her life torn away from her. They had firm kinship in their loss and pain, and the younger woman thought this life was as good as any. He had been taken from her, and someone had to pay.
She booted up the computer they had taken and they checked the first batch of addresses against the map.
When she had mentioned the idea they had been on the roof watching the sunrise. The smell of blood was thick in the air, and the bodies of those they loved were still cooling in the morning air around them. The women’s rage at their loss had been at its most acute, it burned through them. The proposition was a simple one and agreement was instantaneous.
“We should burn their meeting places to the ground,” The younger of the two had said.
“With them inside,” Came the reply.
“There no point going to the police.”
“They own the police.”
They sat in silence trying not to look at the remains around them.
“They own everyone,” She had said.
“They don’t own us,” The older woman replied.
And slowly the women laid their plans against them.
The first had been easy. No one had expected them to return to the mansion. The younger woman knew her way around and told the older woman to avert her eyes as they entered the loading bay. She didn’t and the young woman felt fingers press into the flesh of her arm through the leather jacket she wore when the older woman saw the body.
The Tall Lady had bled to death on the cold concrete. At first, the young woman wondered why no one had dealt with the body until she realised that only hours had passed since her death. The realisation struck her like a blow. In mere hours everything she thought she knew had changed. She took her companion by her hand and guided her deeper into the building.
The young woman had always possessed a near unerring sense of direction, and she rarely forgot anything she had been exposed to. It was one of her curses, as there was much she would have rather forgotten, but it was a blessing too.
They found the small room quickly, and the computer was where she had left it. They had seen no one en route and visited the guest suites on their way out to collect clothes and any item they could use before they made their way back out through the loading bay and into the new day.
“Top up?” The waitress asked before either woman had even seen her approach. The sudden words made the younger woman look up in wide-eyed surprise. The waitress looked at the map and scanned the lines drawn across it, “Are you planning a tour of historic homes?”
The older woman smiled. She had a pretty smile. It was disarming and didn’t hint at the darkness she held inside.
“Yeah,” She said, “Eat the rich, you know what I mean?”
The waitress frowned and nodded uncertainly as she refilled their coffee cups and left.
The two women hadn’t spoken about what they had seen that morning on the rooftop. A few cryptic fragments had passed between then and that was all. Both women knew they were trying to discover what the other had seen without revealing what they believed had happened. They were on the outskirts of their first stop when the younger woman decided to breach the subject directly.
They had driven the stolen car from the cafe and into the woods. They parked on the edge that overlooked the grounds of the large house. They had grown brazen in their activities, perhaps even careless, and each believed they knew why.
Neither woman knew the first home on their list belonged to the man who had set Ryan on his course. If they knew the true debt the owner owed them they would have taken their payment in full, and not been satisfied with being just a thorn in his side.
“You saw them too didn’t you?” The younger woman had asked but the older woman sat in silence. The young woman thought she saw her companion slowly nod, so she continued, “The one had been your boy hadn’t it?”
The sun was beginning to lower over the horizon, and soon they would find their way into the building and find where this coven played its game with human life. They had brought enough fuel to start a fire that would be fierce enough to cause considerable damage, perhaps even burn the building to the ground. While planning, one of the women had asked about the threat the fire posed to those who lived there, and the other woman had ignored her. They never spoke of it again.
“Yes, it was,” The older woman finally replied, “It was my boy.”
When the men had fought the monster the rising sun had glinted on something that had stood either side of them. Two beings of light that were no more substantial than the air itself, and she had screamed her son’s name.
The older woman ran her fingers through her blonde hair, and the other woman knew it was to hide the tears that had just sprung from her eyes. They had heard each other cry on the nights since that day. In the darkness, when they thought they were the only person awake, both listened to the other succumb to their loss and pretended not to hear. They would comfort each other if they knew how, but some losses were too great.
By the time the woman had reached the edge of the rooftop, the ghostly figures were gone, and all that was left to be seen were the bodies of the men who had fallen to their deaths moments before. There had been no apparitions, and no beast, just the flesh of two men who had not been what those around them took them to be.
The young woman watched the imposing building. The only sign of life was a curl of smoke drifting from one of its many chimneys. There would be more smoke soon. Lots more. She knew that if anyone cared enough to find the bodies at Gatehouse Apartments Ryan would most likely be accused of the deaths. The thought stung her deeply, and she had searched the newspapers for the news.
There had been none, and she realised the event would never make it to the news. The lives lost that day would never be known by anyone but themselves. The forces working against them were just too great. Bodies would disappear and records would be changed.
The following day the fire was on the front page. The picture took up the whole page and the women stared at it for a long time without speaking. The younger woman tore it free and folded it carefully. There had been no casualties and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or angered by the news, but she saw the dishevelled man who had owned the building with haunted eyes and took some comfort from that.
A day after that they learned that the man had died in his sleep. His name was John Charles and the article lamented his loss, the two women didn’t.
The older woman reread the article, while the younger woman planned their next stop. The article didn’t connect the man’s death to the fire, and both women thought they knew what this meant. The forces working against them may be great, but the forces they worked for were greater still, and when someone dances with the devil, they always have to pay their dues.
The women everyone took for sisters paid their bills and then left to search for a car.
It was a long drive to their next destination.