Page 109 of Fight or Flight
Paxton nods and glances at the house. “We were playing cards when it happened. I thought he was behind us, but I don’t see him anywhere.”
“Where were you?” I ask, sweeping my gaze over the quad, but there’s no sign of him.
“The back game room, next to the stairwell.” Paxton points to the window at the end of the building. “One second we’re just playing cards, and the next the room was filling with smoke.”
“That’s where the fire started?” Jax asks.
I don’t hear Paxton’s answer because I’m already weaving through the crowd, ignoring the calls for me to stop and stay back as I rush up the steps, yank open the door, and run right into the house.
The acrid smell of smoke fills the air as I cut through the foyer and push the door to the east wing open. A few wispy clouds of smoke hang in the air as I run down the hall to the room Paxton said they were in.
The door is closed, which sets off my Spidey sense, and it goes absolutely haywire when I twist the knob and find it’s locked.
There’s no logical reason anyone would lock the door unless they were trying to keep people out—or trap someone inside. Closing it could be explained as a way to try and contain the fire, but there are only a handful of keys that can lock communal rooms, and I’m the only one who lives in the dorm that has one of them.
“Shane?” I shout and go to dig my dummy card out of my pocket, but pause when I remember that I left it in my room. “Shane?” I call again.
There’s no answer, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t in there.
Taking a step back, I give the door a hard kick. It buckles and cracks under the impact, and my second kick is enough to shatter the frame. The door flies open and smashes into the wall behind it with enough force to shake the room.
“Shane?” I call as I step through the broken door.
The lights are off, and the room is filled with a heavy haze of smoke. The smell of burning plastic and melting metal is almost overwhelming, and my eyes are drawn to the far wall and the flames licking at it.
Ignoring the fire for a second, I move deeper into the room and sweep my gaze around, looking for any signs of Shane. A dark shadow in the far corner catches my attention, and a weird sense of relief fills my chest when I see Shane pressed against the wall, his face hidden and arms wrapped around his knees as he hugs them against his chest, like he’s trying to get as small as possible.
He’s alive, and he’s conscious, but he might not stay that way if I don’t put the fire out.
Turning from him, I rush over to the closet and yank it open so I can grab the fire extinguisher tucked into the back corner of the space.
So far the flames have been contained to a small section of the wall, but the fire isn’t acting the way it should.
It’s only been burning for a few minutes, but it should have spread much further than it has, considering that pretty much everything in the room, and the whole damn house, is made of antique wood.
The flames are small and burning blue, which means they’re incredibly hot, but they’re not spreading, even though there’s no shortage of oxygen or fuel for the fire to feed on.
I quickly take note of the surrounding area as I pull the pin on the extinguisher, then douse the fire until I’m sure it’s not going to flash up again.
Not giving a shit that I could be destroying evidence, I kick in the wall around the burned area. The fire itself definitely started in the outlet, and there’s a chance it’s still burning between the walls.
The exposed area is blackened, and several of the wires are melted, confirming my suspicions. I can’t see any actual flames, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any rogue sparks or anything that could travel or flash back up.
I quickly pull more of the wall plaster away until I see fresh wood and untouched wires, then I spray what’s left in the extinguisher into the hole.
When it’s empty, I turn my attention back to Shane, who’s still curled up against the wall with his face hidden.
“Shane?” I drop to my knees in front of him and quickly look him up and down to check for any signs of injury.
He slowly lifts his head, and I zero in on the red mark on his temple.
“Jace?” he asks, but his eyes are unfocused, like he’s looking through me and not at me.
“Can you walk?” I ask.
He’s so out of it I doubt he’s really hearing me, but I need to get him away from the scene and out of the smoke so he can get some fresh air.
“Are you hurt?” I try when he doesn’t answer.
