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This is chapter six in the story Fires from the Dark.

Chapter

“Lori? Lori, what's the matter?” Andrew's voice drifted over the phone line. Lori, in slight shock from Sven's remarkable (and quick) recovery from a few minutes ago, forgot about her conversation and stood staring at him.


Sven walked over to her and snatched the phone from her hands.


“Hello?” Sven spoke into it.


“Hello? Sven? Is that you? Are you all righ-”


“I'm sorry, Andrew, you'll have to talk to Lori another time. Goodbye.” Sven said.


“Sven, Sven! Don't you dare hang up on me. Sven! Sve-” Andrew was cut short.


Sven hung the telephone up and turned back to Lori. “We need to talk.” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her through the kitchen door, up the stairs. At the top of the stairs they took a left and entered their bedroom.


“Alright, what did Andrew tell you? Why did you call him?” Sven said, shutting the door. His brown eyes looked tired and worn.


“I, uh...I called him to see what went on when you, um, were over there.” Lori stammered. By now, she had walked across the bedroom and sat down on their bed.


In contrast, Sven stood firm in his place. “I don't want you to speak with him anymore. I don't know what is wrong with him lately.” he said, closing the door, as if someone was listening in on the two. “But we need to forget about him right now.” At this, he walked over to Lori and sat down beside her. She leaned against him, laying her head on his shoulder. Sven took a hand, and, gently stroking her hair, he continued.


“I reacted like I did because of a news cast I saw today.” he said, frightfully reminiscing, giving a slight shudder.


“I know. I spoke with Andy about it.” Lori said, snuggling closer. She put her arms around Sven.


“Earlier today...when I woke up so soon - believe it or not, it wasn't because I wanted to be with you.” Lori gave him a small, sort of sarcastic smack on the leg. “I had a nightmare.” Lori fell hush. “It was of when I was working Germany, after I met Andrew through work. Whatever I saw when the place burned down...”


“It's normal to have nightmares, especially after such a traumatic experience.” Lori said.


Sven glared angrily at the wall. “That's exactly what he said. Don't you do this to me, too, Lori!” Sven shouted, getting up. He stomped over to a dresser, complete with mirror, and slammed his fist down on the wood. He clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white.


Lori stood up and walked over, concerned for her boyfriend. “Please, Sven, I'm so worried about you. You need to calm down.” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders.


He immediately shook her away. “Don't you dare tell me that.” he hissed. Lori wondered if his attitude was driven by irritation, or fear. “Something is terribly wrong here...”


Lori took a chance of rationalizing once more. “Of course there's something wrong. The murders themselves are wrong. But that doesn't mean that what's happening is connected with what you think you saw or your dreams.”


This angered Sven more than anything. He spun around and shouted. “God dammit, I know what I saw! Don't try to use “logic”.” Sven said, spitting out the last word ferociously. “I know what I saw. And it wasn't just whatever the hell it was, either. The people that weren't killed by the fire...they...” he said.


Sven sunk to his knees and began a slight sob. Lori came to comfort him, dropping down next to him. She cradled his head to her breast and ran her hand over his back. “It's okay...” she said, attempting to sooth him.


“No...It's not...” Sven managed to get out, stifling his tears. He lifted his head, only to put his forehead against hers. He kissed her on the nose, pulled back, and spoke again. “The people that weren't either burned or smoked to death, were caught by that thing. And...th-the murders that have been happening ...have been carried out in the same manner as before...”


“But, that doesn't mean that it's-”


“Lori, its eyes were gone.”


For a moment, a small dose of shock set in. Lori never knew about this. Sven had told her of the devil that he claimed he had seen, but never of this.


Lori, a realist, tried to find an explanation, to rationalize. “Maybe...maybe whoever-” she was cut short once again.


“Don't try and say that whoever did all of that survived and somehow came here. It's not possible. Andrew and I were the only two survivors. Well, the only human survivors.” said Sven.


“Well...I don't think that...” her voice trailed off. Try as she could, and as irrational as it seemed, she found that she couldn't rationalize, and found herself believing what Sven was saying.


“Lori, these murders' executions are mirroring the ones that took place in Germany. Sven said. Getting up, he took hold of Lori's hands and helped her up.


The two embraced again.


“Okay,” said Sven, pulling away. “There's someone we need to talk to. Someone that may be able to help us.” He started out the door.


Lori waited, then said, “Hey, Sven, wait a minute.”


“Hm?” Sven said, turning on his heels. “What is it?” he said gently.


“You...said you met Andrew when you left to work for that company in Germany?” she asked.


“Yeah. He lived there. He is German, you know.”


“And nothing else?” she questioned again.


“No. What about it?” Sven said, tapping his foot, beginning to become impatient.


Lori was silent. “Oh, nothing. C'mon, let's go.” she said, intertwining her arm with his as they left the room.


Funny... Lori thought. Andrew talks with a rather...Greek accent.

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