An Halloween short story

by SUE STANHOPE

Captain Blue flopped back down exhausted. He and Scarlet had managed to defuse the first bomb but had been unaware of the second. They were still in the process of evacuating the newspaper building when the second explosion had come. Even though they had been a long way from the position of the bomb, the blast had thrown Blue and Scarlet halfway across the room. Now trapped under a pile of debris, Blue had used up all his energy trying to free himself, and had time to think about all the poor souls who had not escaped.

He heard the occasional moan and in the distance someone was crying, but other than that and the cracking of splintered wood and falling plasterboard, the building was silent.

“Scarlet!” he shouted in the hope that his partner would still be alive and conscious.

No reply, but that didn’t surprise him. Briefly, before he himself had initially passed out, he had seen Scarlet thrown against a printing press with such force that, even from where he lay, Blue had heard his back break. He would have to wait.

But that in itself brought its own problems. The pain in Blue’s side grew ever worse and with his free hand, he could feel blood. If he weren’t found soon, either by Scarlet or a rescue team, he would most likely bleed to death.

It was then that he realised that this would be the last of his problems. A crack appeared in the ceiling above him, suddenly splitting the length of the room. Smaller cracks started to radiate from the first and he knew it was about to break apart and fall. From somewhere behind him, he heard what he hoped was a rescue team.

“Over here!” he yelled. “The ceiling’s about to collapse! Over here!”

“Adam!”

Blue blinked; a female voice, he knew that voice.

“Adam!” the voice called again, this time she was closer.

“Adam, wake up!” came the harsh tone of an unsympathetic man.

Adam blinked in the dim light, surprised to find himself in his own bed in his parent’s house in Boston.

“You’ll have the whole house up with your screaming!” snapped his father.

Adam stared up bewildered; it had been so real.

Taking a seat on the bed, his mother smoothed his hair, noticing, not for the first time, the cold clammy brow indicating that same nightmare.

“You were the futuristic policeman again, weren’t you?”

Adam nodded, slightly embarrassed by the situation.

His mother smiled sympathetically. “Probably all the excitement of Trick or Treat.”

“And too much sugar before bedtime,” Mister Svenson grumbled.

“Get some rest, my dear.” Mrs Svenson kissed him on the cheek before standing to switch off the light. “You have school tomorrow.”

THE END

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