Devil's Workshop by Jáchym Topol

stomach flipped. The plastic melted as the flames went creeping across the boards. I couldn’t believe the way the wood was curling up. Bang! The bottle exploded, red-hot splinters of glass flying every which way. When I opened my eyes again, there were thin flames licking at the bunks, wood crackling. I kicked the desk as I groped my way across the room, my foot slipped on a blanket, there was smoke everywhere. Suddenly I was startled by a squealing sound, a moan. A hand poked out from under the blanket, a tear-stained face, glasses. Come on! I wanted to scream, but instead I just squealed too. I pushed Rolf ahead of me. He was crawling on all fours, I couldn’t get past him. I felt heat on my back, the bunk frames were collapsing. Rolf was hopping on one leg. I gave him a kick and pushed him out of the door, into the corridor. We stood panting, gasping for breath in the smoke. Rolf held on to the door, pointing. But I couldn’t understand, couldn’t hear.
    Is somebody still in there? I asked, coughing. His terrified eyes, my eyes full of tears, the smoke: it was too late. If there was anybody still in there, it was too late, and we both knew it. I shoved him out of the door, jumped out after him. Rolf, the idiot, staggering – he’ll run right into their arms, in his underwear. They’ll catch him soon, I’m sure.

     
    I squeezed myself in between the stones of a demolished wall and just kept staring at the Comenium door. I guess I was waiting. Would anyone else find their way out? I should’ve checked the bunks first. Stupid cops! They don’t do anything right! I should’ve checked! I know. There was a sharp stone digging into my back, but I ignored it.
    I heard voices coming closer. Walking through the wreckage, men in hard hats and orange vests, putting out small fires, tearing down debris. They hadn’t reached the Comenium yet. They won’t find me, I told myself. No way. I blended in with the heaps of ruins and smoking debris. There were tyre tracks running all over the dust that covered the rubble of bricks.
    Huh, they must’ve given Sara some kind of sedative! With that rage of hers! They never would’ve got her in that car otherwise, that’s for sure.
    My scorched flesh throbbed through the ash and dust stuck to my hands. Nothing serious. But I didn’t spare the saliva, just to be safe. Suddenly a jolt of fear ran through me, I winced, singed fingers fumbling through my pockets, yes, got it, it was still there. My little Spider.
    And the key to the airport locker too.
    Hat, coat, good pair of boots, warm pants, socks – Alex had rattled them off like a list of presents I would find waiting under the Christmas tree.
    It’s cold where we live, he said.
    Your go-between, who has yet to be picked, will be waiting for you at the airport in Prague. At the full moon, he said.
    It’s the only time they fly. He laughed.

     
    I crept up the goat track to the hollow in the bushes and stayed there. A couple of others sauntered in towards evening. Most of them were excited about the fire. I guess they liked the change. Somebody gave me some ointment for my hands. A while back, they had picked the army warehouses clean, it was from there. Stank of the army, that’s for sure. But it cooled the burn.
    Somebody pounced on my back and started throwing punches, a blind man screaming that I took his brother to the gallows. The others laughed and pulled him off.
    Everybody around here’s been sayin’ that, said Jenda Kůs. Don’t worry, they’re just tryin’ to show off. And even if he did, so what? Kůs snarled, looking around. If he took him, he took him. He was a con, it was his job, what was he supposed to do? You’d have done the same.
    They grumbled a while till somebody opened another jug. Apparently they had an inexhaustible supply. Also from the army.
    Seeing as I was going to live with them, they left me alone.
    I waited for the full moon. Till the moon was full, yep, round as Maruška’s face.
    I