Read Online The Dead Have No Shadows by Chris Mawbey - Free Book Online
Authors: Chris Mawbey
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rotten.
There was a small sealed barrel and a few hessian sacks. One of these was open and Mickey could see what looked like some kind of dried vegetables. There was also a set of shelves with a few tins of food dotted here and there. Mickey saw that there was no fresh food.
Janic led Mickey up a flight of stairs to the main living area. Sunlight flooded into the lounge through the open balcony shutters but added no warmth. It took Mickey a while for his eyes to adjust from the gloom of the storeroom below. There was someone sitting in the lounge. Though he couldn’t see them clearly there was something about the person that caught and held Mickey’s attention. He didn’t realise that Janic was talking to him again. He turned to face the householder.
“Please to be meeting my wife. She is Olga,” said Janic .
The woman in question had emerged from the kitchen at the back of the building. She had once been a plump woman and reached to about Mickey’s shoulders. Death hadn’t been kind to her though. Loose skin sagged where the weight had fallen away and her clothes hung from a frame that was only slightly larger than what Mickey had taken to be Janic’s naturally skinny build.
Mickey and Olga exchanged pleasantries, he in English, she in her native tongue. Though neither understood a word the other said, they understood the sentiment. The woman had the same destitute look that Mickey had seen on the other villagers. He wondered if she was actually worse than those outside – or was it just the fact that he was seeing her close up? As the two of them shook hands Mickey felt that he was being scrutinised. A faint flicker of a different expression played across Olga’s face. It was there and gone in an instant – too quickly for Mickey to be able to work out what it meant.
“Please to come and meet my daughter,” Janic said. His wife reluctantly released her weak grip on Mickey’s hand, who then allowed himself to be steered into the main living area. The girl hadn’t moved. Either curiosity hadn’t bettered her or disinterest had kept her seated.
“Mickey, my friend. This is my daughter, Elena.” Janic presented his daughter to his guest. Mickey had never seen a girl like this before. He had only known a few girls in the past. Some of them were good looking. Others were average to dog ugly. Even the very best of them came nowhere close to this girl. In a dark and desolate world she was a beacon. Mickey felt an unexpected stirring that caused his face to flush. He hoped that the girl and her father hadn’t noticed this.
“Elena,” Janic said. “Stand up girl and say hello to our new friend. This is Mickey. He will be my honoured guest at your wedding.”
The girl did as she was bid, but reluctantly, shooting a defiant look at her father. She shook hands with Mickey. Her grip was surprisingly firm, almost challenging. Elena’s expression was nothing like that of her parents. Defeat and dejection hadn’t clouded her looks yet. Her oval face was framed by long, straight, raven hair. She had a small, almost pert nose and full lips that if they ever cracked into a smile could break a boy’s heart. Though just as dead as everyone else, Elena had life in her large, dark eyes. Mickey suspected that this spark was fading but he also got the impression that Elena was fiercely battling to hang on to it. When his hand had come into contact with Elena’s he felt a sizzle of excitement run through him. Like her mother, Elena held on to Mickey’s hand longer than he would have felt normal and, like her mother, seemed to appraise him.
The girl didn’t smile or speak, but a flicker of something passed over her face. As with Olga, it was too quick for Mickey to work out what it meant but he was sure that Elena had the same thought as her mother. Had it been a look of hope? What was there to hope about round
There was a small sealed barrel and a few hessian sacks. One of these was open and Mickey could see what looked like some kind of dried vegetables. There was also a set of shelves with a few tins of food dotted here and there. Mickey saw that there was no fresh food.
Janic led Mickey up a flight of stairs to the main living area. Sunlight flooded into the lounge through the open balcony shutters but added no warmth. It took Mickey a while for his eyes to adjust from the gloom of the storeroom below. There was someone sitting in the lounge. Though he couldn’t see them clearly there was something about the person that caught and held Mickey’s attention. He didn’t realise that Janic was talking to him again. He turned to face the householder.
“Please to be meeting my wife. She is Olga,” said Janic .
The woman in question had emerged from the kitchen at the back of the building. She had once been a plump woman and reached to about Mickey’s shoulders. Death hadn’t been kind to her though. Loose skin sagged where the weight had fallen away and her clothes hung from a frame that was only slightly larger than what Mickey had taken to be Janic’s naturally skinny build.
Mickey and Olga exchanged pleasantries, he in English, she in her native tongue. Though neither understood a word the other said, they understood the sentiment. The woman had the same destitute look that Mickey had seen on the other villagers. He wondered if she was actually worse than those outside – or was it just the fact that he was seeing her close up? As the two of them shook hands Mickey felt that he was being scrutinised. A faint flicker of a different expression played across Olga’s face. It was there and gone in an instant – too quickly for Mickey to be able to work out what it meant.
“Please to come and meet my daughter,” Janic said. His wife reluctantly released her weak grip on Mickey’s hand, who then allowed himself to be steered into the main living area. The girl hadn’t moved. Either curiosity hadn’t bettered her or disinterest had kept her seated.
“Mickey, my friend. This is my daughter, Elena.” Janic presented his daughter to his guest. Mickey had never seen a girl like this before. He had only known a few girls in the past. Some of them were good looking. Others were average to dog ugly. Even the very best of them came nowhere close to this girl. In a dark and desolate world she was a beacon. Mickey felt an unexpected stirring that caused his face to flush. He hoped that the girl and her father hadn’t noticed this.
“Elena,” Janic said. “Stand up girl and say hello to our new friend. This is Mickey. He will be my honoured guest at your wedding.”
The girl did as she was bid, but reluctantly, shooting a defiant look at her father. She shook hands with Mickey. Her grip was surprisingly firm, almost challenging. Elena’s expression was nothing like that of her parents. Defeat and dejection hadn’t clouded her looks yet. Her oval face was framed by long, straight, raven hair. She had a small, almost pert nose and full lips that if they ever cracked into a smile could break a boy’s heart. Though just as dead as everyone else, Elena had life in her large, dark eyes. Mickey suspected that this spark was fading but he also got the impression that Elena was fiercely battling to hang on to it. When his hand had come into contact with Elena’s he felt a sizzle of excitement run through him. Like her mother, Elena held on to Mickey’s hand longer than he would have felt normal and, like her mother, seemed to appraise him.
The girl didn’t smile or speak, but a flicker of something passed over her face. As with Olga, it was too quick for Mickey to work out what it meant but he was sure that Elena had the same thought as her mother. Had it been a look of hope? What was there to hope about round
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