A World Torn Down (Book 4):The Path To Despair Read online

  The Path to Despair

  A World Torn Down, Volume 4

  Rebecca Fernfield

  Published by Redbegga, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE PATH TO DESPAIR

  First edition. July 11, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Rebecca Fernfield.

  Written by Rebecca Fernfield.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Also by Rebecca Fernfield

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

  For my family.

  Also by Rebecca Fernfield

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  A World Torn Down series

  The Road to Ruin

  The Savage Road

  The Outcast’s Journey

  The Path to Despair

  The Route to Justice

  The Road to Redemption

  Blackout and Burn series

  Days of Fire

  Nights of Fire

  Land of Fire

  Town of Fire

  Mortal Skies series

  Mortal Skies

  Mortal Skies 2

  The Kielder Trilogy

  The Kielder Strain

  CHAPTER ONE

  Three Peaks Farm, Northumberland

  Cold light brightens the sprays of rosebuds and tendrils that cover the duvet pulled up high around Justin’s neck. Cassie dips the flannel into the bowl of warm water and wipes it across his brow. His eyes flicker open and he makes an effort to smile. Lines have deepened in his now gaunt face over the last weeks. A flush has reappeared on his cheeks, bright against his sallow skin.

  The warmth of the room is a welcome relief from the cold in the rest of the house, but the air is cloying and stale, and Cassie opens a window. Heavy footsteps lumber up the stairs and Becca opens the bedroom door. “How is he?” The usual brightness in her eyes has disappeared, lost to the pain and exhaustion of the past two weeks.

  “I think his temperature’s up.”

  “Is it?” The thread of pain in her voice is unmistakable. “Perhaps we should let Sebastian’s wife see to him?”

  “What can she do?”

  “Sebastian says she’s a healer. She can lay her hands on him and make him better.”

  “Becca, do you really believe that?”

  “Well ... Sebastian says that she has good energy. He was telling me about some of the people she’s helped and-”

  Justin coughs then splutters and groans from deep within his belly.

  “He needs a doctor, Becca. Not some quack charlatan.”

  “Sebastian’s not a charlatan, Cassie,” Becca retaliates. “He’s the closest thing we have to a doctor around here and his wife-”

  “Yes, I know—she’s a healer, but I think that Rick knows more about medicine than Sebastian, and he says Justin needs a doctor—a real doctor.” Justin coughs again. His skin feels clammy, hotter than in the morning, and the flush is spreading on his cheeks. “It’s too hot in here.” She takes a thermometer from the glass on the bedside table and gently slips it under Justin’s tongue. Seconds pass.

  “What does it say?”

  “One hundred and four. Becca, will you fetch Rick.”

  “Should I get Sebastian too?”

  “No, just Rick,” Cassie replies unable to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Sebastian is the last person she wants in the room.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Fleetgate, Barton

  The charred and blackened struts of the roof’s supports sit stark against the white of the snow-filled sky as Finn looks up at the burned-out shell that had been her home—Kyle’s home.

  “I want to go in,” she says turning to Deacon as his jacket brushes up against her coat.

  He turns to her with eyes full of pain. “OK.”

  Taking a deep breath, Finn steps into the shop. The room is open to the sky and snow lays in heaps where the fire burned through the ceiling and then the roof. The walls are scorched and blackened with soot.

  “If we find them ...?”

  Deacon sighs and she waits for his response.

  “We bury them ... Then we deal with Saskia.”

  She revels in a surge of anger; after the pain of the past weeks, taking Saskia out, avenging Kyle and Kit’s deaths, would be something she’d enjoy.

  Glass and debris crunch beneath her feet as she follows Deacon between the warped plastic and metal of the central aisles and down to the open doorway that leads into the hallway; the place where the fire had started, where Saskia had dropped her match on the petrol-sodden carpet. Finn’s stomach lurches at the memory of Sergei carrying her through the blaze, the stench of singed cloth, and the heat of the fire behind her as they struggled with the door, desperate to escape. Kyle’s voice calls and she shudders. The horror of his death imagined in her dreams, tortures her even when she’s awake. Overcome, she stops.

  The staircase to the upper floor, where she knows Kyle will be, is burned through, its spindles and bannister charcoaled with the fire. She takes another deep breath to ease the fear and puts a tentative step on the first tread. It creaks but holds her weight.

  “Finn!”

  “It’s OK, it’s holding me. It’s burned through completely further up, but I can step over that part. Deacon, I have to find him. I need to lay him to rest.

  “It’s not that,” Deacon replies as she takes another step up the charred staircase.

  “Oh?” Her stomach clenches at the tone in his voice.

  “He’s here.”

  “Kyle?”

  “No, sorry ... not Kyle.” His voice wavers with emotion. “Kit.”

  Deacon has spoken of him so many times these last weeks that he feels familiar, and she has grieved for him too. “Where?”

  “Here.” His eyes shift to the triangular space below the stairs. “He must have fallen through.” Deacon’s face has drained of colour and pain leaks from the stiffness of his posture. Standing at his side, she slips her fingers through his. “He was all I had, Finn. All I had,” he says with emotion.

  DEACON PULLS AT THE debris that covers the charred remains of Kit’s body. He is recognisable only by his boots and one portion of unburnt clothing. Reaching for a shard of roof tile, he throws it with force, the wrench in his muscles matching the ferocity of shattering clay as it hits the wall.

  Finn returns from the garden, a heavy bundle of blue plastic in her arms. She reminds him of Jules in some small ways. Not the way she looks because Finn is dark haired, broad-shouldered and lean, where Jules had been petite, a blonde elf, but she’s strong in the way that Jules was, vulnerable, but strong and he’s glad to have her by his side.

  They fold out the blue plastic over the snow, cut it in two, then return to the hallway and Kit’s body. With Finn at his side, his focus blurred by tears, Deacon lays the sheet across the hall floor and squats parallel to Kit’s shoulders. His face is covered by a layer of scorched fabric and for that Deacon is thankful. “You OK to take his legs?” he asks.

  “Uhuh,” Finn replies.

  “I’m going to take his shoulders, lift him and slide him across to the sheet. OK?”

  “Yeah,” she agrees though he can see she’s struggling.

  “Are you sure you’re OK? I can do this on my own,” he offers. “You know ... perhaps I should do this on my own, Finn.”

  She remains silent.

  “Next to Jules dying this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  “I want to help, I do ... but ...”

  “I know,” he replies. “Listen. Let me move him. You go back into the shop and I’ll tell you when I’m done. You can help me carry him out.” Her face is deathly pale. “Finn! Steady. Turn away to the wall. Take a breath and go into the shop.”

  Deacon sighs with relief as he folds the second flap of plastic over the boy’s body, and with Kit’s face hidden from him forever, he checks on Finn. She squats with head in hands, and he realises he’ll have to find Kyle on his own. Gathering the spare tarp into a fold, he makes his way to the blackened staircase. It creaks as he begins to climb.

  “Deacon!”

  “Stay there, Finn. I’ll fetch him.”

  “Be careful!”

  He takes another step. The wood cracks and the staircase shifts. As he reaches the middle, the wooden strut beneath him drops to the left and he knocks against the wall. Plaster cracks and crumbles around his feet.

  “Deacon, come down!” Finn calls. “It’s going to break.”

  As he lifts his foot to retreat, the step cracks and Deacon plummets, feet first, into the space beneath the stairs. Finn screams a
s he lands with a thud.

  “I’m OK,” he groans as he shifts among the debris and pushes himself up to a crouch.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Not hurt,” he lies, clutching at the back of his head. “I’ll get the ladders.”

  “No! It’s too dangerous. Even if you get the ladders, the ceiling may give way and if you fall through ...”

  “What do you want to do then? Kyle-”

  “I want him back!” she blurts.

  “Yes, but-”

  “No, I know I can’t have him back, but ... I miss him so much.” She quiets for a moment then continues. “I want to find him so bad, Deacon, but you’re all I’ve got now. It’s too dangerous to go up there.”

  “I don’t think we will find him ... up there. The fire was intense ... there may not be much ...”

  “Yes,” she sighs. “I ... can we take Kit and leave?”

  “Are you sure, Finn?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I loved Kyle, he was like a brother to me, and it hurts to leave him here, but ... but I can’t risk losing you too.”

  “If you’re sure?”

  She nods. “Let’s take Kit home,” she says bending to pick up the corner of blue tarpaulin.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Three Peaks Farm

  “You can’t go in there,” Victor says stepping in front of the living room door as Rick reaches out his hand to turn the knob.

  “What? Get out of my way!”

  “No,” Victor replies with determination as Max, another of Sebastian’s ‘brethren’, closes in to stand beside him.

  “Brother Sebastian is speaking. He can’t be interrupted.”

  “Listen! I’ve had enough of this ridiculous mumbo jumbo. I need to speak to Becca.”

  “Sebastian is counselling her; he’s all she needs.”

  “Don’t talk out of your arse, man! Get out of my way.”

  The two men close ranks and block the door. Victor stretches his arms between the door frames, his body a barrier.

  “Listen, if you don’t move, I’ll make you regret it,” Rick seethes as he reaches for the door’s knob behind Victor’s back. Max slaps at Rick’s hands.

  Rick holds Victor’s stare, clenches his fist and in the next instant, slams it into Max’s jaw. The man staggers, smashing the back of his head into Victor’s face. Rick follows up his advantage with a hard punch to Victor’s belly. He grunts and blood begins to flow from his nose as he doubles up. “Now move!” Rick says with a shove past the injured man and twists the door knob. It twists but doesn’t open. “Becca!” he calls through the locked door. “Becca, it’s Rick. Open up!”

  The door opens and is filled by Sebastian’s large frame. “Yes?” he asks as he blocks the view into the room.

  Who the very hell does he think he is? “Becca! ... I need Becca to come with me. Now!”

  “Rick ...”

  “Becca is undergoing instruction and-”

  “Get out of my way!” Rick’s voice is cold with anger. What an arse! Head stuck right up there! “Becca,” he calls again, shoulder-barging Sebastian’s chest. The man doesn’t budge. What the hell is happening here? “You can’t hold her hostage!” How can Sebastian wield so much power, and in such a short space of time?

  “It’s alright, Rick. I’m not a hostage,” Becca replies as Rick continues to push. Catching a glimpse of her behind Sebastian, her eyes sparkle, despite the tiredness that weeks of worry and overwork have wrought on her face.

  “You need to come upstairs to see Justin,” he says over Sebastian’s shoulder. “Cassie sent me.”

  “Yes, I’ll come.”

  This time last week, she would have pushed past him and torn up the stairs, now she waits for a nod from Sebastian, and stares past Rick with glazed eyes.

  Dropping the arm that bars Rick’s entry, Sebastian steps back into the room but, as Becca passes, he catches her arm. “We’ll continue our talk later.” He leans in as if to whisper. “Remember what I said, and stay strong. All will be well.”

  “Yes,” she replies as he holds her gaze.

  He releases her arm, and she walks past Rick without any hint of urgency.

  “Becca.” Rick treads the stairs behind her. “It’s Justin, he-”

  “Yes, I know,” she says as she steps up onto the landing.

  “You know?”

  “Yes.”

  In the bedroom, Cassie holds Justin’s hand, his chest heaving as he gasps for breath. As Becca enters, Cassie steps aside allowing the woman to sit. Becca strokes Justin’s hair then holds his hand to her cheek. The stairs creak, and Sebastian appears in the doorway.

  “This is private,” Rick insists as the man stands at his shoulder.

  Sebastian ignores Rick’s warning and pushes past, crouching beside Becca and whispering in her ear.

  Becca turns. “Can you leave us alone?” she asks, looking first at Cassie and then at Rick.

  A wave of hurt washes over Cassie’s face, and she walks to Rick with a pained and questioning frown.

  “Please.” He throws them Rick a cold stare. “It’s time for you to leave. Becca needs to be alone with her husband.”

  Justin’s chest heaves again.

  “But-”

  “It’s what she wants.”

  “We’ll go downstairs,” Cassie replies with a gentle tug of Rick’s sleeve.

  “Becca?” Rick questions.

  “Yes, Rick, please do as Sebastian asks.”

  Sebastian smirks and Rick grits his teeth, ignoring the urge to stride across the carpet and grab him by the throat.

  “Come on, Rick,” Cassie urges and pulls at him again.

  With a final glare at Sebastian, Rick relents and follows Cassie onto the landing.

  As he takes the first step down the stairs Sebastian urges, “Tell him, Becca.”

  “You can go now, Justin ... It’s time to go.”

  Justin’s chest heaves and, in the final seconds before the door shuts, Sebastian passes a pillow to Becca. She accepts it with a smile as the door closes with a click of its latch.

  “Come down, Rick,” Cassie urges from the bottom of the stairs. “Let her say her goodbyes in private, if that’s what she wants.”

  The hairs on Rick’s neck prickle as he stands transfixed, unable to take his eyes from the closed door. “But-”

  “It’s what she wants, Rick.”

  “I think she just ...”

  “It’s his time, Rick. You could see that.” Cassie treads back up the stairs and holds out her hand. “He suffered so much. He’ll be out of his pain. Come down. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  Justin had suffered. In truth, his time was up the moment he’d been shot; without medicine or doctors there had been no hope for him. But had Becca really put an end to his suffering? “She had a pillow ...”

  “A pillow?”

  “Yes, Sebastian picked up a pillow and gave it to her.”

  “Oh?” Cassie catches his gaze and glances at the door with a frown. “It’s probably just to make him more comfortable—lift his head to ease his breathing.”

  Rick sighs, relief easing his discomfort. “Yes. Perhaps you’re right.”

  “Well, what else would it be for?” she asks avoiding his eyes and leads him to the kitchen.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The river run swift and brown, the reflection of the bright blue sky making no impact on its muddied depths as Deacon looks out over the water. He takes a long, deep breath. Beneath the dirt, his hands are red, sore with the effort of digging out the grave, and he’s thankful that the frost he’d expected last night hadn’t come. Instead, the day is surprisingly warm, the snow melted, and the ground no longer frozen hard. He wipes away the sweat beading on his forehead, leaving a trail of gritty dirt across his brow.

  “Kit loved it here,” he says surveying the massive bridge suspended over the wide river. A seagull squawks as it swoops, the white of its underbelly flashing in the sun. A group of long-legged wading birds pick their way among the mud flats, leaving imprints of feet. “We’d come up here, even when the snow was deep, and walk along the bank. That there,” he continues, pointing along the river, “is an estuary. It leads out to the sea.”