Page 44 of Blood & Kisses

“Well, I hope Smiler’s lackeys can see the house has an invader,” she says as her eyes remain fixed on the door, expecting it to open.

The heavy footsteps stop and fade as if moving further away toward the front door. “Maybe it is Smiler’s lackeys casing the joint.”

We stare at the basement door as the footsteps stop dead, and I run back up the stairs to level with the narrow window cut into the wall that sits just above the ground. Unfortunately, I can only see my reflection because it’s pretty dark outside, but something smells like burning wood.

“Fuck,” Z snaps, pointing to the basement door, and I drop my eyes to the sight of smoke streaming through the seams.

I ran to the door, pressed my palm against the wood to see how hot it was, and then tried the handle. It was warm but not blistering hot. Slowly, I opened the door and saw nothing but smoke, but the smell of burning wood and the sound of popping and cracking as the fire ate into the building.

Pulling my PPE mask over my mouth and nose, I step out into the hallway to determine where the fire is located and immediately notice the kitchen area lit up with flickering, blight flames.

“Fire!” I scream to Z. “In the kitchen. We need to get out now.”

“The backdoor,” she yells back, abandoning the cleaning supplies and running up the stairs as I wave the smoke away with my hand, run down the hall toward the end bedroom, and turn left to the backdoor.

“Damn,’ I hit in a panic to find a discarded refrigerator had been placed in front of the door as if this was planned.

The fire is spreading fast and becoming more intense. Windows smash from the heat as the wall panels curl up and melt like ice. Together, Z and I try to move the refrigerator awkwardly in such a tight space and manage to shuffle it out of the way so that it slips behind to get to the wooden door. I seize the handle and turn it, but the door refuses to budge. Meanwhile, the fire is spreading and coming our way, consuming everything in its path.

Z attempts to kick the door open, but there’s not enough room between the fridge and the door for her to get a good enough. So, we try to drag the fridge back even further toward the empty bedroom to give us more space, but the smoke is now so stifling and suffocating, even with our masks on, that we’re struggling to breathe.

Our only option is to fall back and return to the basement and hope, like heck, we’ll be untouched since fire moves upward rather than downward. The fire is dangerously close, licking over every surface and unbearable heat; my skin feels as though it's blistering just by being near the flames.

Stooped over, we arrive at the basement door, kick it open, and run down the stairs to an untouched space. Now, smoke billows through the doorway, which will soon be burnt to a crisp in minutes.

Just as we’re composing ourselves, deciding what our next move should be, a boot smashes through the narrow window, and we scream, shrinking back to the farthest wall of the basement.

We’re completely screwed now. Our only way out of here is through a deadly fire, and once again, I scold myself for not bringing my Glock with me.

Clutching each other, I search desperately for an item to fight off the perp and grab the mop as Z picks up the large container of hospital-grade disinfectant. As soon as Bootman pokes his head through the broken window, we’ll smack him with the mop and disinfectant container.

“Ready?” Z gasps as the basement is quickly filling with smoke.

I nod. “Yes,” I say, raising the mob. We can see that someone is shuffling outside the window, and there are murmurs of male voices and distant shouting.

“Rae!” one of those voices calls out, panicked.

“Blake?” I reply breathlessly, wondering if I misheard. The crackling and snapping of the house being eaten alive by fire drown out other sounds, and maybe I’m imagining it in my desperation to be saved.

“Rae?” His voice is closer. Then I see his face, brown eyes filled with fear and relief when he spots me. He uses a jacket to clear away the rest of the glass. “I’m coming in.”

It’s a tight squeeze, but Blake manages to slide through the narrow window space, feet first and lands on the ground like he’s done this a hundred times before.

“We need to be quick,” he prompts us, grabbing the cleaning bucket and tipping it upside-down under the window. “Zara, get up.” He points to the bucket and glances up at the basement door, looking concerned. “I’ll give you a boost. Gabe is on the other side.”

“Gabe? Gabe is here?” I wheeze as I rub my stinging eyes with the base of my palms, and the smoke is irritating my throat, eyes, and nose.

“Watch where you put those hands, mister,” Z blasts Blake comically as he pushes her up and through the window space, and strong hands on the other side grab Z’s forearms and easily drag her through, vanishing from my sight.

“Next,” Blake rushes me as I step up on the overturned bucket and push my butt so I’m boosted upward into the clasps of Gabe.

I see his muscular forearms before I see his face, but when I do, those blue eyes are filled with fear. “Are you injured?” he asks, running those eyes over my body draped in PPE.

“No,” I answer as he kneels back down to help Blake.

“Good. Clear out and run to the opposite side of the road, Rae,” he demands, “furthest away from the house as possible.”

Now, I’m outside, I can see the house is engulfed in flames, and the roof is about to cave in. I find Zara hugging herself under the canopy of trees on the opposite side of the road. “I’m so sorry,” she splutters under tears.

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