Page 84 of The One Who Won’t Get Away
Sean?I couldn’t imagine Vera’s beefcake of a fake fiancé having any kind of unhealthy habits.He seemed to have his shit together, considering he had a successful security company.
Did that mean I wasn’t a lost cause?
The sound of stomping and doors slamming came from downstairs.Then the smell hit me.Vera caught it too.Her eyes went wide.“Is that—?”
“Smoke,” I said.“They’re setting the house on fire.”
“We have to get out.Now.”
I scanned the bathroom—towels, a bathmat, and two plastic baskets of half-empty shampoo bottles.I grabbed the two hand towels, soaked them in water, then handed one to Vera and pressed the other over my face.
Vera stared at her towel for a second before tying it over her mouth and nose like a desperate, furious bank robber.I did the same.Then she wrenched open the bathroom door, checked the bedroom, and beckoned me to follow.There was already smoke drifting in from under the closed door.
I sprinted for it, my hand going to the handle.It turned, but the door didn’t budge.Bile crept up my throat, not just from fear but the smell of burning plastic.I looked around, praying for a tool, a weapon, anything.Vera eyed the leg of the nightstand, took a deep breath, and kicked.It didn’t budge.She tried the second time.Nothing.Finally, on the third kick, the leg broke off splintered but mostly intact.
She handed it to me.“If they come back up, you hit them as hard as you can.”Her voice was muffled behind the towel, but her eyes held a command.“Turn the handle so it’s in the open position and hold it there.”
“Understood,” I said, and gripped the wood so tight the grain cut into my skin.
The air was thickening, the smoke crawling lower, clinging to the blinds and sheets.
Then Vera slammed her shoulder into the door.It barely moved.She did it again, and again, and again.Each time, the door inched a little farther until we could squeeze through.I went out first and found a chair wedged under the door handle.Vera had been able to move it enough, but fuck.This could’ve killed us.Still might, if the thick smoke was any indication.
My eyes and throat closed up.The whole landing was a soup of gray, so thick you could stir it.I blinked until my vision cleared enough to see the stairs.
“We can’t go down,” I said, pointing at the rolling blanket of black that filled the stairwell.
Vera grabbed my arm and yanked me down anyway.“We have to.The fire will travel up, so we’ll die if we don’t get out now.”
Two steps in, and the world dipped sideways.My head swam.I stumbled, almost taking Vera with me.Stupid smoke inhalation.
Vera steadied me.“Nadya.You have to stay awake.You hear me?”
I nodded, wondering what the hell had happened with my overactive brain.Shouldn’t it be, you know, hyper and helping me through this?
I blinked smoke from my eyes and tried to breathe shallow, the wet towel doing fuck-all to keep the sting out.My lungs burned, and my knees turned boneless, but Vera kept pushing, practically dragging me down every step.
The bottom of the stairs was a black hole.I could barely see the banister, or Vera, but I felt her death grip on my wrist.
I tried to bolt for the kitchen, thinking if we could make it out through the back, we might avoid the worst of the smoke—or avoid whoever was at the front.But Vera yanked me into the semi-finished basement.I didn’t understand why, until she slammed the door behind us and shoved the towel tighter over my face.She guided me down onto the floor, under the stairs, and crawled in after me.
The air here was cleaner, but we still needed to get out.
“You think they’re still outside?”I asked.It was the only reason I could think of for why she wouldn’t run for the exit.
“I think they want us dead, no matter if it’s by fire or bullet,” Vera answered.
Or explosion.“Do you have gas?”
Vera shook her head.“Everything is electric.”
Small mercies.Not that burning alive was that much better, but maybe the fire department would get here fast enough and scare off anyone who might be waiting for us to come out.
