Ellen's Arc

Chapter 2 of 45

The wolf paced the far side of the lobby. Its fire lit the dust in the air. Ellen pressed her back to the wall and held the knife low. The front door stood behind the beast. She could not reach it. But the lobby had more than one mouth. A dark hall opened to her left, past the front desk. She edged toward it, slow, keeping her eyes on the wolf. The wolf turned its head. Blue eyes fixed on her. It lunged. Ellen ran. She hit the hall as heat rolled over her back. The corridor bent and dropped her into a wide room with high, broken windows. Ash light poured in. A rear door hung open on its hinges. Beyond it she saw open ground and, far off, a red barn standing alone on the flat. She could reach the door. She could reach the plain. But a thick vine choked the doorway. Green leaves grew in clusters of three, reddish stems tangled thick as rope. It blocked the gap wall to wall. She grabbed a fistful to tear it down. The leaves crushed wet in her hand. Behind her, claws scraped stone. The wolf filled the hall mouth. Fire dripped off its jaw. Ellen looked at the vine. She looked at the beast made of fire. Then she understood. She yanked the water skin free and soaked her coat sleeve. She wrapped her hand and ripped the vine loose in long ropes. She flung the wet green tangle across the floor between herself and the wolf. The wolf charged. Its paws hit the vine and the leaves burst into flame under it. Smoke rose thick and bitter, not clean woodsmoke but a choking oil that filled the room. The wolf snapped its head back and howled. Its eyes streamed. It clawed at its own snout and backed into the hall, blind and gagging. Ellen threw her wrapped arm over her face and ducked through the open door. Cold air hit her. She stumbled onto the plain and did not stop until the hotel was small behind her. Only then did she look at her hands. Red welts were already rising across her palm and wrist where the leaves had touched her skin. The burn itched, then stung, then bit deep. She had escaped the wolf. She had traded a quick death for a slow poison working under her skin. Her hand swelled as she watched. Ahead the red barn waited, its wood weathered and split, its dark loft window like an empty eye. She had no water left and a rash spreading up her arm. She started walking toward the barn. It was the only shelter on the whole gray plain.