The Dangers of Pursuing Red

Chapter 3 - Deals with the Devil (Part 2 of 3)

Copyright © 2012 Dominic Eagle

All rights reserved

CHAPTER 3 - DEALS WITH THE DEVIL (Part 2 of 3)

                It was two weeks later and things had died down following the fire. John’s wound had evidently begun to heal; judging by the fact he no longer winced or clutched his shoulder at regular intervals. One college lunchtime, he sat down with Melissa and me.

                “Chris is in a terrible state.” John shook his head pitifully.

                “What’s happening with his parents then?”

                “Well, their insurance covered most of the damage, but now that they’ve sorted it out, hell has broken loose. Chris has had half of his things confiscated from him, and he’s being forced to spend his spare time studying in college, so that his parents can ‘keep an eye on him’.”

                “Oh man… And it’s not even his fault.”

                “It’s not anybody’s fault James…” John spoke slowly, suspicious of the way I was frowning.

                “Actually, I think somebody started the fire,” I put forward bluntly. Melissa’s hand flew from my leg in shock.

                “What? Don’t be stupid mate, nobody does that kind of thing at chilled out parties like Chris’.” John dismissively brushed my theory aside with a swish of his hand.

                “It wasn’t exactly ‘chilled out’ though, was it? There was an assortment of food smudged across the walls and bonfires in the garden. Also, would you care to explain the ‘chilled out’ reason for an empty can of petrol being botchily hidden in a bush just outside the front of the house?”

                Alright, so I suppose I may have left a gap in the narrative earlier. After Chris’ party, I didn’t go home straight away. I was suspicious about the rapid spreading of the fire, because the kitchen (a likely culprit) showed no trace of being what had caused the spread. I had clocked this fact, you see, when I was going in to save Laura, as the kitchen was almost untouched by the flames - though it was probably burnt down by the time the fire brigade arrived.

                After Laura had been taken away in an ambulance, I traipsed around to the front of the house, near where the fire fighters had started to frantically extinguish the ever-growing flames, and I discovered a half-empty petrol canister in a bush near the entrance. It seemed self-evident that somebody wouldn’t conveniently leave a petrol can lying around in a bush, straight after a fire, if they wasn’t some link between the two facts. I told this to John and Melissa. Just like I’d told one of the police officers, who’d given me a patronisingly cold clap on the back, and said: “Well done son, we’ll get to the bottom of it. You’d better go home now.”

“But… why? And who do you think did it?” Melissa gawped at me in shock.

“I have no idea. But they obviously hated Chris.”

Suddenly, as if on cue, Chris appeared with Rachael holding his hand caringly, yet anxiously. Rightly so, for it seemed that John had been right about the state of him. His face was pale and hollow, with his eyes bloodshot, strained and fragile. They reminded me, peculiarly, of the cracked windowpane in my mother’s car. Eventually, that windowpane, left unattended, had fallen through entirely.

Upon sitting down at the table, Rachael smiled weakly at each of us, before bravely starting a conversation - probably to avoid us asking Chris questions. This was the first time we’d seen him around college since the accident.