It was day three.
I raked my head trying to remember when they became hungry.
“Boots,” Fiona said. “We need boots for the bitch.”
This was true. The bitch needed boots.
Running bare foot in a death battle had not been kind to me and soon I would have to run to Tommy.
Wonderfully, the paedophiles had a pair of boots that would fit me good enough, but before I reached over to accept them, I paused.
“I will take the cigarettes.” I picked up the packet instead. “Thank you.”
“Ah. No.” Fiona swatted my hand. “Put them back. You need boots not cigarettes.”
“Oh no, I most certainly need cigarettes instead of boots.”
“This is not the time to smoke cigarettes.”
“Ew.” I wrinkled my nose. “I do not smoke cigarettes.”
“Put the cigarettes back!”
“I’ve lost my heels and my sunscreen and a chance at an incredible orgasm, let me have my cigarettes!”
I kept the cigarettes.
As the paedophiles left, Fred promptly set off a flare which burst high in the sky. We watched from our building as inmates ran to the beacon and viciously slaughtered the group of paedophiles.
Although trade was a serious law in the Battle, this did not apply to child molesters.
While Fiona and Fred were consumed with breeding a cousin/nephew I found a small satchel and packed it with a can of food, a water bottle, extra hair ties, a hunter’s blade and my cigarettes and kept it strapped over myself while I slept.
That night we awoke to smoke and the building on fire. Below, Dig’s laughter reverberated loud.
That took longer than expected.
15
Everything was on fire.
Ochre flames ate at the ceiling and the fourth floor turned into an instant furnace. Black smoke pillowed the air, choking my lungs.
Fred tied a rope to the ledge of a window and flung the rest of it over the side of the building. Fiona climbed down first. I went down next and planted my bare feet on the tarmac to find Dig already waiting.
He held Fiona in his arms, angling a knife across her throat as a tear crept from her eye.
I sighed. “Oh hello, good night, how are you?”
The fire cracked and spat. Cinders blew in the breeze. It smelled of hell.
Lucifer it seemed had arrived right on schedule with his black hooded head. In the reflection of his sunglasses, the flames flickered.
Judging by his cussing, Fred was already upset about the loss of their abode and when he saw Dig with his niece/lover a new strain of fury ripped into him.
“Let her go!” He flung out a blade.
“Ah, ah.” Dig laughed, lifting Fiona’s chin with his knife. “Now, I don’t necessarily give a shit about you two, all I want is my girl. Princess, come over here and I’ll let her go.”
