Chapter Twenty Four

Sachie

I wish Hitomi were here.

Oh—wait, no, I don't!

I was beginning to think that the seclusion really had driven me round the bend. It had been hours—or so it seemed—since our captors had locked me behind bars. Literally. There wasn't even a porthole I could look through. The only source of light was a lamp or something around the corner. Other than that, the hallway I faced was completely dark.

Loneliness had caused my previous irritation to evaporate. It's interesting how your thoughts can take a 180 degree turn once you've been alone for long enough.

Crouching in the gloomiest corner, I hugged my knees to my chest. With eyes closed, I pretended that it was Fuji I was clinging to, Fuji who was there beside me, always ready to protect me from kidnappers who wanted to crack my head open.

It made me smile just thinking about it.

It seemed that the best place to spend time with him was inside my own head. There, I didn't have to pretend not to care that he had started to sit away from Hitomi and me during lunches. There, my feelings for him didn't have to be one sided.

Gosh, I've fallen for him so hard. And drowsing off, I could almost believe that he really was there, that I was safe, and would be laughing away the afternoons with him and Hitomi before long. Not that it was actually possible, with him going off with the other boy regulars after more and more practices, but I could still dream, couldn't I?

I discovered that concrete walls made very bad pillows. When I awoke from my—given the circumstances--peaceful nap, my headache was back with reinforcements. Like a stinging nose.

When since did stinging noses come with headaches? Sitting up properly, I sniffed the air cautiously. Something was wrong, even more wrong than things had been anyway. Every breath caused my lungs to burn slightly, choking me. Mist seeped in to envelope me. Only it wasn't mist at all.
Smoke! Leaping to my feet, I ran to the bars, feeling the temperature of the room rise. Footsteps thundered above me, screams and yells filled my ears.

"Fire!" they were shrieking. "Fire!"

The bars I was clutching were warming. A quick glace told me that they were rusty and very old, spaced far enough apart for me to almost slip through. It was the only way out.

I tore off my dress, thankful for the T-shirt and shorts I had thought to put on. Ripping the hem, I reduced it to a long strip of material. Whoever told me wet clothe won't break had better be right.

But there's no water! I looked wildly around the room, searching franticly for the liquid which I never found. Without it, I was trapped.

What would you have done, if you were me? You don't even need to have experience in fighting for your life to answer that one. Me? I did the first thing I could think of. Shaking hands reached up and scratched at my half healed wound. Unwillingly—and yet I knew I must—I made the hot blood flow again, pressing my torn up dress against it until the clothe was stained red.

If this doesn't work, I'll kill myself before the fire gets here. Wincing at the redoubled pain, I wound the crimson strip around two of the bars, taking out the stout stick I had saved from earlier.

I knew this would come in handy. Sticking it in between the bound bars, I used it to twist the clothe strip, using both hands and all the strength I could muster to draw the loop it made even tighter.

"Ugh!" I grunted, just as the bars gave a welcome creak. Thank heaven they're thin. Muscles screaming, I bullied my arms into turning the stick once more, ignoring the blood dripping onto my shoes and legs.

The next turn, I told myself, feeling my muscles start to tear. The next one...just the one more time...

Scree...

Oh my gosh. I've just bent metal.

But there was no time to celebrate. The bars were growing hotter. Using the last of my energy to hold the stick in position, I slipped out of my cage, feeling the heat of the metal through my thin shirt. The newly inflicted scratches stung a little, but at least I was out.

"Get onto the lifeboats!" someone shouted from afar, drawing me to him like a magnet. Except I had to resist the urge, master the impulse to escape onto the deck, had to go down the corridor as fast as I could. Had to find Fuji.

"Help! Someone let us out!" I deciphered the plea for rescue through the rest of the confused yelling.

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Here!" came the faint reply. "I'm here! We're here!"

I'm coming, Fuji. Hold on, I'm coming...Urging my feet to fly, I sprinted towards his voice. Where are you, Fuji? Tell me where...

There it was! The first closed door among all the other ones that stood ajar. It had to be the one. The pounding of fists on the wood proved it.

Eyes wide with anxiety scanned the hallway. How convenient. An ax.

Grabbing the handle, I raised it high. "Stand back!"

Crash! For someone who had never used an ax before, chopping the doorknob off was a really good start. Crash! Crack! Crash! Again and again I struck the lock of the heavy door, swing the sharp blade like my life depended on it. No, like something even more important did.

Creak...At last.