From The Ashes Chapter 11: 11: It's Been a Long Time, Patrick, a sakura wars fanfic

Rating: PG-13, language

"FROM THE ASHES" – It's Been a Long Time, Patrick

This is one messed up game Valentinov is playing. But he's paying me well, so I can't complain. Actually, I can't complain because he'd sooner kill me than blink.

I stop at the top of the stairs and sit down. Four trips up the 'discreet' back stairs and I'm done. I can hear Cavaradossi huffing as he makes his last climb, too. He drops a canvas duffel bag beside me and I hear the sound of glass shatter.

I cringe. "Easy, ya big ox."

"What for? I say we make a bonfire."

"Ya don't get paid ta think."

"Yeah? Well, neither do you."

"An' that's why ya don' hear me makin' suggestions, see? Ya jus' see me doin' what I'm told ta do. Weird as it freakin' might be." Cav's gonna get himself killed one of these days with all that independent thought. Besides, Valentinov's motive is obvious. Creating a little dependency. Creepy, but obvious.

"Why the Douglas-Stewart Corporation?"

"The hell should I know?" I snap. He's beginning to bug me with all these questions.

"Yeah, well, this old building gives me the creeps. What do they do here, anyway?"

"It's a factory, dumbass. They make stuff. Machines, I guess. I dunno, somethin'."

"I thought they were one of the companies pitching defense weapons for the war."

"So what if they are?" It's more than me just wanting to keep my nose clean. I legitimately do not want to know everything that's going on. I don't want to know how Douglas-Stewart is involved. I don't want to know what ulterior motives everyone has. It's scary and I just want to get paid. And Cav won't shut the hell up.

"Jus' curious who the orders came from, is all. You know, to store dis stuff here."

"From Joseph." I stand up and pull out a cigarette.

"Yeah, but who told HIM to tell us that?"

"Jeezis, Cav, who the hell cares? Jus' take that bag in, would ya? I wanna go home before I go gray."

"Awright, awright…"

Cavaradossi's footsteps grow quieter down the dim hall, and my matchstick flares bright for a couple of seconds before dimming to the orange glow of my cigarette.

Suddenly, a hiss that sounded like a muffled steam release came from the other end of the corridor. My cigarette is stuck to my bottom lip – that's the only reason it hasn't' fallen out of my open mouth.

It's dark down there, and I'm sure Cav went the other way. "…Cav?"

He doesn't answer. But there's another sound. A soft gear-clacking sound, like something winding.

Then silence.

All the hair on the back of my neck is standing up. On my arms, too. And is it cold in here?

There's no one in the building except the night watchman downstairs, and he's in the part time employ of the boss, if ya get my meaning. O no one could be up here but us. Even if Vinnie downstairs was playing both sides, whatever made those noises wouldn't be friendly to us.

"Cav!" I whisper as loud as I can, as if it would make only Cav hear me. "Getcher ass out here!"

A soft chuckle from down the hall seems to find its way only to my ears. It is a strange, high-pitched, childlike sound… and it whispers my name.

That's it. I'm outta here. I practically fly down the stairs, amazed that my feet stay under me.

Panting, Cav comes out of the stairwell and meets me in the street.

"What the hell's gotten into you? You look like someone just walked over your grave."

I must be pale, I feel colder than this March midnight. "You didn't hear nothing'? While you was droppin' off the last load? Like… gears an' shit? Or… like a voice?"

Cav looks at me like I might be ill. "Nothin'. Mebbe we oughta get you a drink."

"Yeah."

I have no idea what I heard. Right now, I'm wondering if I'm not in Hell with all the weird and creepy shit that's been going on the past few months.

There is no way I'll be able to sleep tonight.