Underdogs

THIRTY-SIX

❝She remembered who she was, and the game changed.❞ — Erwin Smith

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Chapter thirty-six:

FIRE AND SMOKE

The bottle of cheap Whiskey whose label wasn't legible toppled over and plunged into thin air before crashing on the gravelly ground, startling Galene as it broke into hundreds of pieces of wet glass.

"Shit."

Another explosion, this time closer than the first one, made the small room of unrestored stone tremble in sheer anticipation. For a fleeting moment, the woman stood still next to the fallen chair she had been sitting on before surprise had forced her to jump to her feet.

"Shit," she repeated in a breathless whisper, barely able to keep her calm composure as a wave of panic rushed to her heart.

A distant scream snapped her back to life, like lightning rumbling within and awakening her frozen muscles. Determination and a familiar sense of self-preservation pounded in her veins, and blood was quick to begin its rushing course through her legs. Taking a hasty glance at the wobbling table, she rummaged through the files she had been reading for the umpteenth time before swearing loudly as another explosion almost caused her to lose her footing.

"Shit. Damn it," she growled under her breath upon realizing she had no time to think things over and knowing there was only one way out.

Grabbing the files she had been studying for longer than she realized, she crumpled them in a big ball of yellowish paper — deteriorated under the touch of lingering nights and desperate hands. After giving it a look of slight hesitation, Galene dashed to her bed and explored the story wall with her fingertips until finding the familiar gap by the post. As the room shook again, she hid the files inside the wall and let out a frustrated cry when she rammed her hip into the table on her way out.

Knife in hand, Galene bolted out and glanced around.

Black curtain of smoke crept towards the few, small vents located on the high ceiling; like hungry snakes in search of more victims to satiate their stomachs. Her features hardened upon catching sight of her people — the ones she had took under her wing; the ones she had promised a better life to — stumbling over fallen bricks and scorching planks while trying to escape the incessant attacks of a fire that grew bigger and deathlier by the second.

All around, chaos laughed in the faces of dying thugs and scared children. The smoke born from the explosion and burning wood extended its deadly fingers towards every nook, scouting for names to make its list of murdered victims longer. It crept up, like a salamander, towards the rocky ceiling, drawing a path of black tears on the walls on its wake. With not many escaping routes, it formed a thick cloud over their heads.

Ashes rained.

Death beamed.

Gripping the knife tighter in her hand, Galene formed a plan in her head and sped towards the staircase that gave birth to the city spread beneath the underground — a place found a long time ago, yet one whose existence had avoided seeing the outside. Her legs carried her down one of the many streets made of stone, through the labyrinth of broken bones and fallen doors.

Her heart screamed and pounded against her ribs painfully. The sight of her people, battered and bloodied, lying on the ground and staring at her with lifeless eyes almost sent her to her knees. It was never supposed to end up like that; with those who were trying to be better, to give the cruel reality and hard life another chance, dying in the midst of smoke and fire.