Abject in the Dust

Chapter 11 - Sanctuary

Sam's body was dropped roughly to the ground. Most of the journey to the cabin had at least been downhill but breathing which should have become easier was replaced with the effort of carrying Sam's lifeless body across rough terrain at speed. The most obvious of Sam's wounds had been hurriedly dressed and the flow of blood stemmed, but dark red was now Sam's dominant colour.

"Can you see anybody?" Lykke whispered quickly; only Rize's cautionary hand had prevented her from already entering the large, pristine cabin. A cabin once owned by somebody of great importance or wealth. It sat with uninterrupted views out across the grey ocean of mountain peaks, screened by a thick forest of naked pine trees. Even now, it screamed of wealth and plenty as lights lit seemingly unoccupied rooms. Decadence and opulence beyond imagination in a world where power and light were now luxuries reserved only for those of immense importance and status.

Rize shook his head. "Be careful." He said as he squeezed Lykke's arm.

Lykke did not stop to reply or acknowledge Rize's concern as she slipped silently through the trees to approach the heavy wooden door. No lock barred her entry as the door swung open gently and hinges creaked loudly against the silence.

Light filled the inside of the cabin; as much glass as timber formed the walls which surrounded Lykke and there were few dark corners which might provide some form of sanctuary. Lykke moved slowly – cautiously – as her boots sounded loudly against polished wooden floors. A huge kitchen opened from the hallway. As big as the kitchen used to feed hundreds in her home settlement, with more bright copper pots and pans hanging from the ceiling than might be needed to feed an army. Cabinets everywhere sitting above and below polished stone worktops. And on the far side of the room, the crowning glory. Tentatively, Lykke reached for the sparkling silver tap and with a simple turn water flowed. Water as bright and clean as the vessel it emptied from – cool water that, with every excited heartbeat, gained heat. Lykke stood back with a start – partly in shock and partly because the water was too hot to be comfortable any longer. "How?" She asked herself in a whisper.

Her question was answered with a metal click. Lykke turned slowly to face the familiar sound. A beautiful man stood on the far side of the kitchen. A large island separated the two occupants of the room, but it would offer Lykke little in the way of protection against the shotgun he held pointed at her breast.

"What are you doing here?" The man asked softly. There was no anger in his voice or threat in his tone. There was no severity to his features, no permanent scowl or gritted teeth. Remove the gun from the equation and he was some beautiful angel, radiant in the bright white shirt and trousers he wore.

"My friend." Saying the words seemed to shock Lykke back to reality. "She is injured. She needs help. Do you have medicine?"

"I do." The man replied calmly as his weapon lowered.

"I need it!" Lykke blurted.

"Do you?" The man replied with obvious offence.

"I'm sorry." Lykke replied, with little real evidence that she was truly being contrite. "Please. Can I have medicine?"

"Have? Have medicine?"

"Yes." Lykke replied with growing frustration.

"No." The man answered simply.

"But, my friend, she is dying. Come see for yourself, if you do not believe me." Lykke begged. "Please!"

"I do not doubt your word." The man replied calmly.

"Then you will help me?"

"No."

"But she will die."