The Burning House

Charred and slick the fat and flesh slid right off the bone. Each of the crew members attempting to lift the crisp blackened cadavers from their chairs gagging as the disgusting act continued. Of those present all were in full hazmat suits save for the two who wore civilian casuals. Small filter pellets shoved up their nostrils to block out the vile stench of baked offal hanging in the air.

It was no matter of discussion that the bodies had to be removed. For the Burner had done her job. Twenty-eight in total including the nine council members present. It brought her no joy to learn that there were nineteen civilian casualties, but it was her duty. Once all four of the flames of indignation burnt it would be neglectful had she not.

“Clarence would have given it another day.” From behind the other in casual dress spoke, his voice harsh as a steel brush on sheet metal. “So then, are you happy Gloria? You really did your job like a good dog. Didn’t you.”

“Cut the shit Jun. You and I both know this isn’t done until every single one is dead. Even Simon.”

“Keep my Brother’s name out of your mouth you dumb bitch. You’re lucky we didn’t bump into each other before all these suits got here.”

Gloria’s eye twitched and she took a deep breath in, leaving Jun in her peripherals as she scan the burnt guts of the Council House. Giving his words time to marinate in the room.

Gloria let the breath out in a sigh before replying, “If it was you in my shoes what would you have done? Let it go on another month?” She paused and turned now to study Jun and his shit eating grin, “ Another year?”

“You know all these vagrant fucks, they just don’t understand. They need to work harder. That or stop fucking breeding. It’s not our fault that the poor just keep getting poorer.” He gestured around with his hands, “For all the people that wanted this to happen, over ninety percent probably won’t earn enough in their lifetime to rebuild one wing of this once great building.”

“You mean the people left jobless and homeless, who all those rich fucks replaced with machines? Of course a lapdog like you would say that.”

In the moment of silence that followed Jun's brow furrowed, his body language betraying his composure. Hand raising as if to strike Gloria for a heartbeat before resting on the back of his head.

“You better hope I don't find you alone.” Jun muttered as he spat toward her, the glob landing on the Burner’s sneaker.

Gloria stepped towards him. “Try me you old sack of shit.”

Before either could close on the other, a man wedged between them pushing towards what was acting as a door. Tearing the helmet off his hazmat suit and tossing it aside. The yellow hoods plastic visor contained his half-digested lunch, and he further did not seem to appreciate the smell of charred shit that assaulted his nostrils without it. Continuing in a flurry of movement through the mess of steel framing toward the exit.

Casting one last sneer toward Gloria and following the man, Jun departed. Dropping his hands into his pockets, muttering something the Burner could not quite make out as he disappeared.

Gloria performed her last round of the place then, checking to make sure there were no dead left uncounted. Anywhere one might find themselves hiding in a sprawling Government building as it was engulfed in flames. If they found Simon or one of the other absentee Councilmen from the boardroom, she would be thankful. Contrarily the thought of any she might find being another innocent caught in the blaze she had started, drove a pin of anxiety into her chest.

Within an hour the Burner had scoured the ruins guts to her satisfaction and departed. Careful in choosing one of the few unmarked sedans from among a handful of vehicles, many of which sported slogans or logos associated with well-known companies that had close if not direct government ties. Generic piano led smooth jazz rolled over the speakers and she let it play out as she took to the streets in search of the three missing Councilors. Simon Thul, Christopher Holmes and Barry Collins.

Christopher was an easy mark, she found him an hours drive from the Council House in his home. He thought being with his family would protect him. It didn’t. His skull fragments and brain bits still scattered across the walls the same as they would have otherwise. All that his cowardice changed was his wife and three kids had to be covered in the mess too. Those screams would probably haunt Gloria longer than the sight of the soft grey matter as it slid down the walls.

Barry was a bit tougher to find, taking up much of her afternoon and evening as she searched his haunts. He had closed down a steakhouse chain called Buckin Larry’s that his family owned. Holding himself up behind the bar. It took all of fifteen minutes to get inside when she did find him, using a bullet for a key which had the unfortunate effect of announcing her arrival.

To welcome her Barry fired off four blasts of his slick black shotgun, forcing Gloria to upend a table and take cover. Without hesitation she let four shots fly back his way, one pelting the Man on the shoulder, causing Barry to slump behind the bar.

“Christopher’s first mistake was in thinking my humanity might have led me to hesitate. Hell maybe he thought I’d let you all live after I saw his family there.” The stench of her foul blood and ash tainted clothing filled the room as she leaned against the table to keep cover, “Old Clarence would have spared you all. That old pervert wouldn’t have even burnt shit in the first place.”

“Clarence was a goddamn saint.” Barry sprung up on her exposed side at the far end of the bar top, pointing that wretched barrel her direction.

With a bang he released a spread of buckshot, catching Gloria’s right arm as she took a dive in an attempt to dodge. Wincing the Burner felt her heart pulse in her head with each rhythmic excretion of the myriad wounds that now cover her arm. The Earth’s rotation slowed as she experienced excruciating pain for what felt like an eternity. Watching the world from a distance as if a spectator in her own body. A high pitch squeal piercing her eardrums.

First beat. She saw Barry clearing the counter. Registering the perverse grin on his face as he took her in. Her lithe form, ash, and dirt covered, blood-soaked, prone, and vulnerable as she was reflected in his eyes.

Second beat. Pain became as distant as reality. Her handgun rose in a magnetic motion snapping the sights in front of her eye. Barry’s eyes filled with a wicked hunger as his feet touched the ground, gripping the shotgun by the fore-end and sliding it to ready his next shell.

Third beat. Realization widened on Barry’s eyes the moment before impact. A spew of white, pink and red chunks erupting from the back of his skull, in reaction to Gloria’s finger tightening on the trigger. His body collapsing forwards with his former momentum, a loud crack filling the air as his head met a table.

Gloria puked, the shock of her wounds and the events of those past two days feeling unbearable to her in that moment. Crawling her way up the side of a chair she gathered her feet under her. Spitting blood onto Barry’s corpse and staggering to the washroom. Ears ringing from the gunfight.

In the mirror a nightmarish woman approached her, blood and ash matted hair crowned a grime covered visage. Flecks of fresh blood bringing a crimson spackling to her mask. Her button up top which had once been a creamy blue had been stained and smeared to a tie-dye of red, black, brown and purple. For a brief moment she saw two of the same woman in the mirror but cupping a splash of water onto her face helped to clear things up. Revealing Gloria beneath, one handful at a time.

A new wave of nausea washed over Gloria as she struggled free of her soiled clothing, piling them along with her pistol in the corner of the room. Naked she leaned forward on her palms against the basin of the sink, exhausting the soap dispenser to make the gore and grime surrender to the foam, revealing the ivory tones of her quivering skin. Convulsing and yelping in pain when she went to rinse the shot arm. Impatient Gloria broke open the dispenser to free handfuls of paper towels. Body racked with sobs as she put pressure on the myriad of puncture wounds the buckshot had left in her and crumpled to the ground.

Each breath she took her head spun, the room sliding this way and that beginning to turn her stomach as she squinted at the door? Doors? No just one door. But it was wrong because the door was open. A smiling woman held it there. Sneering in joy down at her suffering. Such white teeth. Gloria couldn’t think of much more as consciousness slipped out of her grasp.

Coughs shook her body as she cracked the back of her head on the concrete wall.

“Fuck.” Gloria let out before another coughing fit seized her, “Wh—”, cough, “Wh—”, cough.

Smoke was seeping into the room through the closed door. Head pounding and weak from blood loss Gloria slipped in a puddle of fluids as she went to stand, collapsing hard on her breast and knocking the wind out of herself. Sobbing she wheezed and scanned the room from the floor. One window. Seven or so feet up sitting above the stall, one of those short wide ones.

Scrambling to the corner of the room Gloria grabbed the pistol and attempted to lift herself up the side of the stall. Her right arm surged with pain. The paper towel that had hardened to her skin with congealed blood oozed from the effort. Cursing she smacked the butt of her gun against the wall. Her breaths were becoming ragged and strained. A haze now clearly visible in the room.

Grabbing her soiled clothing Gloria attempted to use it to cover her face and nearly vomited from the stench. Throwing the bundle to the ground she fell forward dropping the gun as her body attempted to eject her lungs through wheezing and hacking.

From her new position lying on the floor the Burner managed to capture a few gasps of unpolluted air. Regaining control of her breathing mechanism for just long enough to feel for the gun. Not wasting any time when it was in her grasp Gloria spun to her back aiming for the small window and releasing three shots. The first ricocheted off the concrete wall, embedding itself in the garbage can. Both of its predecessors however landed true. The first of those two puncturing the window panes and the second shattering a larger chunk of the glass.

A slight breeze passed over her nude form, bringing with it the scent of grease, decay and waste. The smell of trash cans had never been so welcoming. With a vigor not present in her first attempt Gloria discarded the pistol and pushed herself upright. Utilizing the garbage can she managed to scale the stalls thin wall straddling it and pulling herself by the jagged windowsill free.

Gasping like a fish swallowing pellets as she broke free of the smoke. Small shards of glass catching in the window frame and dragging along her skin left fresh scrapes deep enough to bleed here and there. Falling out onto an industrial garbage bin’s folding lid Gloria grunted, rolling further and thudding off the broken pavement below.

She lie there for maybe an hour, or half an hour, at the very least fifteen minutes. Lost in the sea of space between unconscious thought and the reality of the hard concrete beneath her head. A disheveled mutt with a gangrenous ear and patches of missing fur wandered up. Eyeing her outstretched arm for a moment, it didn’t waste much time before it began lapping at the wet stains of blood on her wrist. Gloria let her head fall to the side and made eye contact with the dog as it performed its task, not bothering to move or fight it.

“Miss? Hey, Miss are you OK?” A crackling voice echoed in her head. “Hey, Buddy get away from her you rascal.”

The Stranger hobbled into view, hunchbacked and as ugly as his dog. Patting his cane against the animal’s rump gently drawing its gaze, lighting up something resembling admiration in its hazed over eyes as it met his own.

The Stranger made a lowering motion with his hand and the dog obeyed the action, sitting by his side and receiving a head pat as reward. The Man’s lower lip curled as he looked down at Gloria’s state and overall nakedness. Digging in the various inner pockets possessed by the layers of coats that he was bundled beneath, he rustled free a rolled up piece of fabric that he proceeded to unfurl revealing a rather large, yet clean baby blue t-shirt.

“Why not cover up there girly?.” He held the shirt out to her. “Now don’t mind Buddy there. He is livin off them nostrils more than them eyes these days. Musta taken ya for a corpse.”

Gloria groaned. Her vocal cords were in working order, but she was at a loss for what to say to this disfigured angel of a Man. Reaching a feeble hand out she snatched the shirt from him sitting up and throwing it over herself.

“Not much of a speaker, ay?” The Stranger patted around his torso. “That’s alright with old Parry. But look, I have something else for ya girly.”

He reached into one of the layers and withdrew a small white package tossing it into her lap. “Looks like you need these.” Parry’s eyes rose to the broken window and black tendrils of smoke rising from the building behind her.

As if his recognition of the situations urgency had cursed them both, a shot rang out. The accompanying bullet had pierced Parry’s temple splattering his brain tissue out the other side. Gloria dropped everything and shimmied backwards to take cover behind the garbage bin, the clacking of hard leather on the ground growing louder marking the slow approach of Parry’s murderer. Buddy was misted by the brunt of the mess and spun on the aggressor beginning to growl, that is before common sense turned him to whimper away down the alley.

“Well Gloria, you’re the worse kind of cockroach.” That familiar crackling voice met her ears, “You should have just died. Would have given this fool here at least another year or two to live that drunken mess he called a life.”

Gloria took a deep breath and met those cold blue eyes behind the barrel of the gun. “Jun you heartless piece of shit.”

“You know what someone once told me?” Jun paused and smiled, the shadows emphasizing the cracked lines of his lips around his perfect teeth. “Money makes the world go round.”

“You are just like your brother. He ate that shit right up too.” Gloria’s voice was weak. “So shoot me, then what? They’ll just appoint another Burner, and they'll haul you off to prison for life.”

“Burner’s can be bought the same as anyone. Your old Mentor would have taught you that between fucking sessions wouldn’t he? After all he was the best Burner in history. He did exactly what he was told, and got exactly what he wanted. Even little fuck toys like you.”

“Fuck Clarence and fuck you, and everything you stand for.”

Jun’s mouth twisted, and he flipped the safety on the gun and tossed it to the ground before her.

“If you have the balls. Then do it. This world hates us all anyways. Even me. Even you.”

Shocked Gloria stared at him unmoving. Tears staining Jun’s cheeks as he awaited his final moment. His lids pressed tightly closed breath hitched. Falling to his knees.

He exhaled and cried, “Fucking do it. You'd be doing me a favor.”

Gloria couldn’t help feeling moved by this disgusting man, empathy and pity alike washing over her.

“Why?” She asked as she leaned forward in pain lifting the weapon on him. “Why would you?”

“Do it now.” He grabbed the guns barrel, flicking the safety back on as he pressed its nuzzle against his forehead. “But remember all the blood on your hands. Mine, Simon’s, Mike’s, Chris’s, Barry’s and all the rest. Even the innocent that will die because of what you’ve done. Even this sad piece of crap laid out here. All because you had to do your job.”

The gunshot echoed through the alley and penetrated her mind, blood leaked from the gaping wound in Jun’s forehead. Flickering lights dying in his eyes as he slumped forward. His hands going limp on the barrel and falling as dead weight, head too leaning forward to reveal the blown out mess of it's backside. Gloria struggled to free herself from the Man’s mass and pulled her body upright using the garbage bin.

Sirens whirred in the distance drawing nearer by the second and the warmth of the burning building was beginning to seep into the alley. Checking the clip in the handgun she was satisfied to see it retained one shot.

“Simon.” Gloria muttered to herself stumbling from the bloody scene.

Her crimson footsteps led out and around the corner away from Barry’s burning bar. Stopping in front of Harold's Electronics. On the lone TV that was left on at that late hour, a man possessing a facial structure much like Jun’s sat. A doctor at his side injecting something into his veins. Below it a headline read.

‘Councilor Simon Thul has volunteered for lethal injection.’

Tires screeched behind her and she her a door slide open.

A woman called out, “Hey bitch.”

Gloria spun in time to watch the rifle in front of her head recoil as the bullet left its chamber. Her world going red for the last few moments of her life. Ears ringing loud enough to drown all of her thoughts out, but not loud enough to drown out those last words.

“That was for Chris.”

The End