Backwards Into Hell

Part Three: Everybody Dies

Abigail's Diary

Sunday 31st October

At the time of the fire, I hadn't had a clue who he was.

When I stared into his wild, red eyes, nothing was in him. Nothing left.

I've gotten to know him, of course, reading his words and watching his spiraling descent into what he became, but all I saw that day was the anger, the utter despair as he didn't get what he wanted.

It was a long time before I let go of Caleb, crying as paramedics pried him from me, saying they had to check his vitals.

Mercifully, he was fine. Completely untouched by the events and, as I later found out, well looked after by the rest of the Barra Ten. That was the last thing David ever gave me—Caleb's health.

I sat with him in the ambulance, not tearing my eyes away as more paramedics hovered outside, waiting for casualties from the fire.

Of course, the fire-fighters had rushed in, but no bodies were recovered until it had burnt itself out. The fire had been too violent and destructive for any rescue attempts to be successful. Thinking of their own families, the fighters withdrew, choosing instead to drench The Lodge with water from afar.

As the paramedic, a dark-haired man in his twenties, checked Caleb over, I couldn't stop crying. It felt like a dream. Like I'd wake up any moment and still be at the table in the Cafe, waiting.

'Everything looks fine,' he said with a soft smile, 'but if he complains of pain or anything at all, bring him in.'

I nodded as Caleb stretched and began to totter absent-mindedly toward the ambulance edge.

'Oh, no you don't.' I swept him back up. 'You've got to stay with me.'

Caleb, with his bright, beautiful blue eyes, looked up at me and said his first sentence.

'Are you okay, Mummy?'

I almost laughed. For him to be worried about me.

'I'm fine, love. Fine.' I wiped some of the dirt from his cheek. 'Let's go home, shall we?'

His little face frowned. 'Dad?'

The ground swayed under me at the mention of David. If he'd been caught up in that fire, there was no way he was alive.

'We'll see him later,' I said. Caleb naively accepted my answer as a curtain of guilt swept over me.

I pushed it away, squeezing him tight as we left the ambulance. We just had to get to the airport and put this nightmare behind us. Except the ambulance sat behind police lines, and the press, which had now grown into a brightly-coloured mob, surrounded The Lodge yet again. As I stood and contemplated the best route, a crafty figure darted from the crowd.

'John!' I called.

He ducked under the police tape and swept his head towards us. Our eyes met and I couldn't help but smile as he rushed over, wrapping me in a hug.

'You found him,' John said breathlessly, stepping back as I scanned for police officers—they didn't seem to care that he'd broken past the tape. John crouched and extended his hand. 'Hello, little man.'

Caleb, characteristically shy, tilted his head down and hid behind my leg. John just laughed.

'Sorry,' I said.

'It's fine.' He stood up and paused for a second, thinking of what was best to say. 'If you need anywhere to stay, you can, um, come to mine if you like.'

Caleb squeezed my hand.

'Yeah, okay.'

John took a big breath out. 'Good. Good.'

We moved through the crowd for the last time. It was easier with John by my side, clearing a path while I lifted Caleb in the air. Once we broke through, however, they latched onto us, hungry for a story.

'Is that the boy?'

'John, John, any comments about your father?'

The pot-bellied officers stepped in, and we reached John's car—a cute red Beetle with black seats and a bumper sticker of a smiling sun—and drove deeper into the Island.

I felt John watching me in the rearview mirror as I watched over my happy, healthy, and very much living, son.