Page 49 of When You're Lost
A rasping laugh cut through the roar of the flames, drawing both their gazes to the gaping hole where the office door used to be.David Smythe stood there, half-illuminated by the blazing wreckage behind him.His face was smeared with soot and half-twisted in a manic grin, as though the chaos around him was cause for celebration.
Finn recognized him instantly as the quiet staffer from the gallery—one who had seemed so innocuous, so overshadowed.Now, that mild facade had vanished.David lifted both arms, beckoning as if presenting a grand stage.“Behold,” he said hoarsely, stepping forward.“Isn’t it beautiful?The Great Fire of London… come to life.”
Finn’s pulse hammered, realization jolting him.David was the killer.The final painting—The Great Fire of London—and he was re-creating it right here in the gallery.Finn tried to steady his breathing.“David,” he croaked, “you set this bomb?To kill Harrison?Why?”
David’s eyes gleamed with a fanatic light.“Because forgeries are a disease.This place—Harrison’s gallery—polluted everything with lies.I had to cleanse it with truth, with flames.”He spread his hands, as if conducting an orchestra of destruction.“Art must be pure, or it is worthless.”
“Is that why you murdered the others?”Finn asked.“Because they knew the forgeries existed and did nothing about it?”
“Exactly!David roared.
Eleanor started to move, but David’s gaze snapped to her.“Don’t even try,” he snarled.Then, in a flash, he lunged across the broken remains of a coffee table and grabbed her arm.Eleanor cried out, struggling, but David’s grip was surprisingly strong for someone who’d just survived an explosion.
“No!”Finn shouted, fighting a wave of dizziness.He tried to scramble to his feet, only to gasp as pain shot through his shoulder.The roof overhead groaned ominously, flames licking at the edges of rafters.
David pulled Eleanor close, his face contorting in a twisted smile.“The Great Fire of London, 1666—an entire city consumed.Tonight, we re-enact it on a smaller scale, but with a real audience.”He gestured to the flames devouring the office walls.“We’ll let them all burn, just like the forgeries.The perfect installation piece—the gallery workers become the art!”
Eleanor attempted to yank free, but David held tight.“You’re insane,” she hissed, coughing as smoke filled her lungs.“People have died because of you!”
“Art demands sacrifice,” David growled.“Victoria, Edmund, Townsend—they all decided their fates when they knew great pieces of art were being faked, and they did nothing!They had to go.I thought I was going to end with Harrison.Now, you’ll join them in my grand finale.You are anexpert, just like the others!You have probably seen countless forgeries and done nothing in your career!”
“Never...”Eleanor whispered.
A sudden figure appeared through the drifting smoke—Mary Whitmore, battered and bruised, tears staining her ash-smeared cheeks.She stood at the threshold of the office, eyes wide with horror.“David,” she called, voice cracking.“Stop this!You’ve done enough harm!”
David's jaw tightened, a flicker of rage crossing his features."You're part of the rot, Mary—covering up forgeries, lying to the world about 'authentic art.'Don't you see?This is your punishment, too.You loved Harrison, now he's just a puff of red paint, smeared around his gallery!"
Mary, trembling, took a hesitant step forward.“I never wanted people hurt.You’re twisted, David.This isn’t what real art is about—this is murder.”
With a snarl, David shoved her aside.She stumbled backward, crashing into a fallen display stand.The clang of metal echoed through the inferno.Finn seized that moment to lunge forward.Every muscle in his body protested, but adrenaline-fueled him.He grabbed David's shoulder, yanking him away from Eleanor.
David spun, eyes wild.He shoved Finn, and they both staggered sideways, slipping on shards of glass.Sparks rained from the ceiling as a chunk of blazing plaster fell, narrowly missing them.Finn clenched his fists.“You’re done, David,” he gasped, ignoring the throbbing in his side.“This exhibition is over.”
David lunged with surprising ferocity.The two men collided in a flurry of fists and elbows, each blow muffled by the roar of the fire.In the background, Mary dragged herself upright, coughing violently.Eleanor pressed against a scorched wall, trying not to inhale too much smoke.
Finn managed to land a punch to David’s gut.David doubled over but recovered quickly, ramming his shoulder into Finn’s chest.The impact hurled Finn into the remains of a bookshelf, pain lancing through his spine.He forced himself up again, no time to register the agony.David advanced, panting like a wounded animal.
“You… should’ve… died… in that blast,” he spat, voice raw.
“Sorry… to disappoint,” Finn managed, swinging a piece of broken timber at David’s legs.David jumped back, nearly losing his footing on fallen debris.The entire gallery seemed ready to collapse—sparks showered from above, and flames crackled greedily along the door frame
Suddenly, a massive beam overhead groaned.With a splintering crash, it plummeted, taking half the ceiling panel with it.David let out a startled cry as it slammed down, trapping him beneath a hail of burning wood.He screamed, arms flailing.Finn froze, watching in horrified awe.
“Help!”David shrieked, pinned by the wreckage.Flames licked up around his legs, and the heat forced Finn to recoil.For a split second, he considered pulling David free.But the debris was already ablaze, spitting fiery tongues.Attempting a rescue would be suicide.He tried, but the scorching heat beat him back.
David locked eyes with Finn one last time, a mixture of terror and rage twisting his features.“Not like this...”he choked out, voice breaking as the fire consumed him.His scream ended in a hideous crackle, and he vanished beneath the roiling flames.
Finn stood paralyzed by shock.Then Eleanor’s voice snapped him from the daze.“Finn, watch out!”she yelled, as a portion of the adjacent wall collapsed outward, sending embers flying.He instinctively shielded his face with an arm.Another burning support beam toppled across the space, the searing heat wafting over them.
Eleanor grabbed Finn’s arm.“We have to get out of here!”
But just then, a large chunk of debris rained down from the ceiling.Finn pushed Eleanor out of the way.It caught him on the shoulder, knocking him sideways.White-hot agony flared.He collapsed to one knee, head spinning.The smoke was too thick to see more than a few feet.
Mary rushed to help, her face streaked with soot.She tried to lift the fallen debris, but it was heavier than expected.Eleanor joined, and together they heaved it aside, freeing Finn’s arm.
He coughed, lungs burning, trying to stay conscious.The swirling smoke made each breath a struggle.“C-can’t…” he stammered, legs shaking.
Eleanor slung his uninjured arm around her shoulders.Mary did the same on the other side.“Yes, you can,” Eleanor insisted, voice firm despite her own trembling.“We’re not losing you.”
