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BARCELONA, SPAIN
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THE GUNFIRE ENDED WITH shocking suddenness, as did the screams and shouts, but Sofia Torres stayed where she was, huddled in the bottom of the wardrobe. Through the door she could hear her employer, Tomas Abrantes, his wife, and their bodyguard, her uncle, Miguel. She wanted to go to her uncle, she always felt safe around him, but the concern in the voices of those she could hear kept her in hiding.
Her decision to remain in the wardrobe soon proved to be the right one. Her hiding place shook as the crashing sound of an explosion, followed by a fresh burst of gunfire, came from the room beyond.
“Hello, Tomas.”
There was something about the voice that spoke those two words that frightened Sofia more than the gunfire had. In her hiding place, she trembled violently.
“Y-you murdering b-bastard. Why? They n-never hurt anyone.”
Sofia had never heard her employer stammer before, and it surprised her to realise that he was as frightened as she was. She couldn’t blame him, though. She didn’t know exactly what had happened, or why, but she was sure that all the gunfire meant that many, if not all, of the people she worked with and for were dead.
Laughter, sharp and humourless, answered Tomas Abrantes’ question.
“You’re really asking why,” the mystery man said when he stopped laughing. “You want to know why I did this. You know why. You invaded my territory and killed my men when they tried to stop you, and you ask why I did this. I warned you what would happen if you didn’t back off and stick to your side of the border, but you didn’t listen. This is on you.”
“You di-didn’t have to kill the kids. They were innocent.”
There was another burst of laughter. “You think I’m going to leave someone alive who might come after me when they grow up? I’m not stupid. I told you what would happen if you kept trying to muscle in on my territory. I made it very clear what I would do. You promised to back off. You lied. You lied, but I’m a man of my word, so now it’s time for you to see what I do to people who lie to me.”
**
CHOKING, SOFIA SHOVED open the burning hot wardrobe door and stumbled out into the bedroom. She made for the door, desperate to escape the horror that surrounded her, but got turned around in the smoke that filled the room and her lungs and made her cough and gasp for air. She tripped over a figure on the floor, who it was she didn’t know, and fell onto the massive bed that dominated the room. She sprawled across the body that was tied to it and felt flames jump to her clothes from the covers.
With a scream that became a hacking cough, she pushed herself up. She could taste the smoke as it filled her mouth again and tickled the back of her throat. It had an acrid taste, like burnt meat, that made her gag and want to throw up.
Her hands outstretched, she turned to where she thought the door was and groped her way forward. She found the wall and moved sideways until she located the door and pulled it open. The handle burned her, provoking another strangled scream, and a fresh wave of smoke and flames billowed around her.
Sofia staggered from the bedroom, leaving one fire for another, and made her way down the stairs, a hand on the wall to support and guide her. The front door was closer, but she automatically made for the kitchen door at the rear of the house when she reached the ground floor. The habit of entering and leaving the house through the kitchen was too ingrained in her. Not even her injuries, or the fact that the house was on fire, could break her of it. As fast as her injured legs allowed, she stumbled through the swirling smoke that filled the house to the kitchen.
She fell to her knees, retching, the moment she pushed through the door. It wasn’t just the heat and the smoke that sent her to her knees. The kitchen resembled a scene from a horror movie, with bodies strewn all about and blood coating nearly every surface that could be seen through the smoke.
What she had heard while hidden in the wardrobe had been bad enough. What she saw now was worse, much worse. The bodies of the people she had worked with, people she had been friends with, lay wherever she looked.
When there was nothing left in her stomach, Sofia forced herself back to her feet. She did her best to keep her eyes averted from the bodies as she made for the back door. It wasn’t easy, though, for there were bodies all around the kitchen. She stumbled and tripped over the body of the head cook as she dodged around the body of one of her fellow maids, cutting herself on the corner of a counter, but didn’t stop. She didn’t think anything would have made her stop and stay in that room, surrounded by bodies and blood.
The moment she was outside she sucked in fresh air to clear her lungs of smoke. All she succeeded in doing, however, was to bring on a fresh fit of coughing that sent her back to her knees.
It took her a short while to recover, and once she did she made her way around the side of the house, her eyes on her feet so she didn’t have to see the horror that surrounded her.
When she reached the gates, which stood open, she started down the road towards the city. Her pace was slow; she struggled for breath and her legs hurt where they had been burned and cut, making walking difficult, but she determinedly kept going.
How long she had been walking for when she saw the car in the distance, Sofia didn’t know, but the sight of it sent her into a panic. It was the killers, come back for her, she was sure of it. The thought sent her stumbling across the road in a desperate bid to get away and find somewhere to hide.
She tripped over a rock, hidden by the grass, and fell. A cry of pain escaped her as she landed heavily but she didn’t stop, her flight was too desperate for pain or blood to stop her. She struggled to get back to her feet, and when she failed to do so she began crawling.