N I N E T E E N

Put On Your Headphones And Burn My City

 

2024 January 27
Saturday

The Peckinville men had been busy all afternoon. Usually, Summer saw them walking in pairs on orderly patrols or relaxing in the large parlor they’d taken as their rec room, but today, they were bustling around with bulging bags of gear. Some of the faces she saw were unfamiliar, and when she looked out the window, she often saw trucks with men leaving or arriving.

She wanted to ask Trev what was going on, but the security consultant broke with their usual pattern by not showing up for lunch, and they appeared at dinner only long enough to fix a plate of roast beef and salad to take with them. They did, however, take a moment to answer Summer’s question.

“There’s an incident at another site that might indicate a leak from Peckinville. Nothing related to this place or the two of you, mind, but the higher-ups are re-vetting everybody with a sensitive assignment. Rotating men out for questioning, rotating others who’ve already been cleared back in to replace them. The shift and patrol schedules have been in bloody shambles all day, and I doubt they’ll be much better for a while yet.”

Despite their assurances, Trev seemed nervous about something, so after dinner, Summer re-packed her go bag and put it in the security room, where the girls had agreed to meet Trev in an emergency.

Just in case.

 

* * *

 

Persephone was in bed with Summer when the alarm went off. Summer had recommended a show she liked—some space thing with a lesbian president—and for the last week, they’d climbed into Persephone’s bed together to watch it on her tablet. By the third episode of the evening, Summer was dozing on her shoulder and Persephone was having trouble keeping her eyes open too.

But then a siren sounded and jolted both of them awake. And if that hadn’t been enough to get them out of bed, the distant pops of automatic gunfire would have been.

“Shoes,” Summer said, but Persephone didn’t need to be told. This time, she was better prepared to run; her boots were right next to her bed, and after quickly straightening her glasses, she stepped into them and pulled the laces tight quickly. Summer did the same, picking up her purse and drawing the taser inside it. Then they walked to the door; Summer opened it a crack, peering down the hallway outside, before she opened it fully and they walked to the security room.

Inside they found Trev and a male soldier who was issuing rapid-fire commands through a radio. Trev was dressed like the other soldiers, except without a rifle; they moved away from the commander to speak to the girls.

“It’s a war zone out there,” they said bluntly. “Full frontal assault.”

“I thought you had enough men to deter that?” Summer said.

“We did,” Trev replied, “until command started pulling people out to question them. We’re at about half strength right now. I don’t know whether Silver River somehow caused that or if they’re just taking advantage, but it doesn’t matter—we’re outnumbered.”

Persephone’s heart pounded as stared at the screens. Some of them showed bodies. Bloodied bodies. Dead bodies. The bodies of people who had been killed by her uncle’s men.

It was difficult to comprehend. How could Uncle Albert order people killed to try to get to her?

The man at the console spoke up. “Ma’am—“ Trev’s lips twitched at the address, “—Point Bravo has fallen.”

“Then I need to get the girls to safety.” They walked back to the console. “Captain, if the enemy gets into the building, you take your knife and you cut both of these—“ Trev pointed to two cables coming out of the wall, “—to deny them use of this equipment. That’s an order.”

He snapped a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good lad.” Trev clasped his shoulder and then led the girls into the hallway. Summer grabbed her go bag on the way out; Persephone just tried not to think about whether the man they were leaving behind was doomed.

Trev led them back down the hall, past the girls’ bedrooms, to a larger bedroom at the end. This one had wood paneling on the walls; they walked to one section near the bathroom. Then Trev reached behind an armoire to push on the edge of the panel; a gap opened up, and they slid their fingers in to flip a hidden lever. They kept pushing, grunting with effort, and the panel swung open like a door—a very heavy door, judging by the pressure Trev was applying. It revealed a small concrete room with some folding chairs and supplies.

“Panic room,” Trev explained, herding the girls into it. “Loads of secrets in a house this old, but most of them are documented in Peckinville’s blueprints, and some of them are even in public records. This one was deliberately kept off the books. Give me a hand with this?”

The girls helped them close the door, which was in fact as heavy as it looked, and then Trev grabbed two spokes of a handle in the center of the door and turned it, driving heavy steel bolts into a doorframe with a loud thunk.

“Now what?” Summer asked.

Trev picked a tablet off the top of a pile and started cycling through camera feeds. “They’ll be driven off eventually, either by the current garrison or by reinforcements. Until then, we wait.”

 

2024 January 28
Sunday

Trev had told them to try to sleep, but Summer was a bit wired and Persephone even more so. Instead, Summer braided Persephone’s hair, guided her through voice training exercises, did her hormone shots, choked down instant coffee and a rather awful prepackaged meal that Trev called an “MRE,” and even read Persephone’s half-finished translation project (which was more poetic, and more raunchy, than she’d imagined). Anything to fill the time, especially after Trev told them grimly that the enemy had taken the house and had begun searching it.

Albert’s soldiers knew that the girls were there; they just didn’t know how to find them.

It was around four in the morning when Trev said, “Something’s changing.”

Summer sat up. “Changing? Changing how?”

“They’re reassigning soldiers,” they said, flicking through camera feeds. “Shifting some of the search teams to the perimeter, I think. The Peckinville reinforcements must be coming.”

“So it’s almost over?” Persephone said. “Just waiting for the rescuers to arrive?”

“Sounds like it,” Summer said, giving her a hug.

But Trev was still swiping through camera feeds with a deepening frown. “I don’t understand what they’re doing in here, tho—oh,” they breathed. “Oh fuck.”

“Trev?” Summer said.

“They’re surrounding the exits,” Trev said, “and bringing in petrol. They’re forcing us out by burning the house down.”

“Shit,” Summer said. “Can we wait it out here?”

“No,” Trev said. “It’s not designed to keep out the heat.” They closed their eyes for a moment, thinking things through. “They’ll have to clear the building once they’ve set the fire—that’ll be our chance to break out. Miss Chase, look through the supplies—pull out fire equipment and anything else that looks useful. Miss Nesbitt, make sure your taser is ready and then help her. I’m going to see if they’ve left any escape routes open.”

“What if they haven’t?” Persephone asked.

“Then we decide: surrender or fight?”

Persephone closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and started sorting through the containers kept in the panic room. Summer, meanwhile, checked her taser. The cartridges were loaded and she had plenty of spares, but the battery was a little low; she switched battery packs. Then she stuffed her purse in her go bag—no need to conceal the taser tonight—and joined Persephone in digging through the boxes. The younger girl was elbow-deep in a plastic bin, rifling through it; she had already pulled out several boxed fire masks, a rucksack, and a small first-aid kit.

“Summer?” she whispered.

“Yes, Persephone?”

“I…I can’t go back to him. I can’t go back to the way things were.” Persephone hastily wiped away a tear with her sleeve.

“I know.” Summer had reached the same conclusion: given Albert’s history, she couldn’t surrender either. “Together,” she whispered. “To the end.”

Persephone stopped and searched Summer’s eyes. “Together,” she said at last.

“I’ve got it,” Trev said, ending the moment.

“Got what?” Summer asked.

“A way out.”

 

* * *

 

By the time they emerged—Trev holding their gun, Summer her taser, and Persephone a fire extinguisher—smoke was already drifting into the bedroom. It deposited motes of soot on the windows in the front of their heavy, enclosed escape hoods, added a little haze to everything. Not enough haze, though, to hide the body at the end of the hall—the body of the man from the security room, lying in a pool of blood.

Persephone clutched the fire extinguisher to her chest. Just keep moving, she told herself. No time to dally.

The three of them skirted around the corpse; then Trev checked a camera on their phone. “Stairway’s clear,” Trev said, their voice muffled by the mask, “but…well, fiery.”

“How many floors to the chapel?” Summer asked.

“Just one,” Trev said.

“Is there another route?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then let’s do it.”

They opened the door, and a blast of hot, smoky air caught Persephone in the face. Through the haze, she could see a yellow and orange line. The flames were alive, licking up the carved wooden banister, blackening the horses and hunting dogs depicted on them.

Persephone readied the fire extinguisher.

“Go!” Trev said, and they launched themselves down the stairs, sticking to the side farthest from the flames. Summer followed, and then Persephone.

This close, the flames were searingly hot, the convection rolling over her, sending ash swirling. She expected to smell smoke, but the mask kept it out completely. Thank goodness she’d found them. The three of them rushed downstairs as quickly as possible, ending up in a foyer crisscrossed by lines of burning petrol. They got as close as they could to the open chapel door; the intricate paint on it was beginning to peel and blacken, and a line of flame led into the door. They could hear the tinkle of glass breaking inside.

Unfortunately, that’s where their escape route was.

“It’s in the fireplace is on the right side wall,” Trev said. They gestured to Persephone to come forward. “Spray in the doorway, then we run through as quickly as we can.”

Persephone lifted the hose and pushed down on the lever. A cloud of white gushed out, putting out the flames in the doorway. She ran in after it. Inside, she found that the short wooden pews on the left had become a bonfire, putting off waves of heat that visibly distorted the air. Flames were licking up the walls, too; the lead in the stained-glass windows was melting and running down the walls, the glass tinkling and popping as it fell into the fires. Even the decorated wooden beams holding up the ceiling were burning in places. Fortunately, the way to the fireplace was mostly clear.

“Go!” Trev said, and Persephone rushed through, spraying a couple spots that were too close for comfort. When they reached the fireplace, Trev knelt, reaching under the edge of the stone hearth, but they screamed and pulled their scalded hand from the hot stone. “Fuck!” they said, then pulled the knife from the sheath at their side to cut off a piece of their sleeve.

A loud groan came from above and behind them. Persephone looked behind them—a burnt ceiling beam was starting to buckle. “Hurry!” she shouted over the din.

Trev wrapped the cloth around their hand, then reached under the hearth again, lifting it. The stone swung open on a hidden hinge, and they chivvied first Persephone and then Summer to slide into the crawlspace below. After Summer was in, Persephone heard another loud structural groan, then some shouting and a loud crash, before the light and much of the heat from above cut off.

She peered back over her shoulder, unable to see much besides Summer doing the same thing, but then a flashlight clicked on behind them. Trev had made it in with them.

“Here,” they said, passing the light to Summer, who passed it to Persephone. “Keep moving forward.”

They crawled through the stone tunnel. “What is this place?” Summer asked. Persephone was surprised she didn’t recognize it, though in hindsight she shouldn’t have been; given her childhood, Summer’s education must have been pretty disjointed.

“A priest hole,” Persephone explained. “After the Church of England split off, there were persecutions against clergy that stayed loyal to Rome. If you kept a Catholic priest in your household, you might need to hide him on short notice. So people would build hidden rooms and sometimes even secret passageways into their homes for their priest to hide in.”

After a lot of crawling, eventually the passageway opened up enough for them to stand, though Summer had to crouch to avoid bumping her head. They finally came to the end, where a modern steel ladder led up to a trapdoor.

Trev checked their phone again. “Looks clear,” they said. They climbed the ladder, drew their pistol, pushed open the trapdoor, and looked around before climbing the rest of the way up. Then Persephone climbed up, and finally Summer.

They were in a stable, though one that seemed to not have been used recently. Trev urged them into one of the stalls, where they took off their hoods. With the masks off, the three of them absolutely reeked of smoke.

Trev pulled out their phone again. “I’ll signal for help,” they murmured, “but it might take a while. Best you two settle in and stay quiet.”

Summer dropped her pack on the ground and unzipped Persephone’s bag, pulling out the first aid kit. “Not until you’ve let me see to those burns,” she said.

Trev grunted their assent and held out their injured hand for Summer to tend to while they tapped out a message with the other hand.

For her part, Persephone set down her bag and leaned back against the wall. It had been a long night.

 

* * *

 

By the time the Peckinville truck rolled up to the stables, dawn had broken, crimson in the haze. Soldiers hustled in and bundled Summer, Persephone, and Trev into the back of the truck.

As it drove them to safety, Summer could see the husk of the enormous house behind them, gray smoke boiling out, orange flames licking at the windows, soot smudging its white stone walls. The graveyard had become a crematorium.

Elle might have considered other options before, but after burning down her house and nearly killing her godchild? Albert Chase was a dead man walking.