Page 109 of Ablaze

Dousing out the fire in both its front and back yards, we finally make our way into the second house. The walls hiss as the water collides with them, sending up rivets of smoke and soot, but we keep charging inside.

The house roars as beams above us groan and creak, tongues of flames encircling them like fiery claws. Working quickly, I pull on the hose, flooding the second-story walls. The floor creaks and whines below me, letting me know the fire’s been burning for quite some time here.

I look over my shoulder for Malcolm, but with the low visibility, I’m not able to spot his yellow gear anywhere.

“Malcolm!” I bellow through my mask. “This floor is gonna collapse. We need to get out!”

When I don’t see or hear him in my periphery, I snap my head this way and that, trying to find him through the haze of smoke. My heart feels like it’s in my throat. “Malcolm?”

I hear him groan from my right, and make my way as fast as I can toward him, drenching out the fires nearby in the process.

My stomach plummets when I see him curled over on the top of the stairs, holding onto the railing. He has a facemask on, but with the levels of fumes and carbon monoxide in the air, it’s likely he’s inhaled enough that he’s going into respiratory distress.

Fuck! The voices and screams of the past threaten to ensnare me as I run toward him. No. Fuck no! I will not let this happen again under my watch. One major loss is all I can handle, and even that almost completely broke me.

Crouching next to him, I pull Malcolm’s arm over my shoulder. “I got you! Let’s get downstairs now!”

He uses part of his weight to steady himself while the rest of him lies on my shoulder. From the way he’s wheezing and coughing, I know my hunch is right. He’s going to need a medic, but my hope is that it’s not too late.

I won’t lose him.

I won’t fucking lose him.

Using my available strength the best I can, I hoist him toward the bottom of the stairs, seeing that he’s having a hard time keeping his head steady.

“Malcolm.” I tap his face, trying to get his attention. “Stay with me, buddy. Fucking stay with me. We’re almost outside.”

I’m almost at the entrance when I see a couple of guys from the crew outside. I yell to them, not quite sure what I’m even saying except for, “Help him,” “Fucking get a medic,” and, “I can’t lose him, too.”

The guys jump into action, rushing over to pull Malcolm and me out of the house.

I’m right behind Malcolm, making my way out, but as I do, I decide to douse the fire to my left, thinking it’ll spread fast if I don’t, and completely miss the loud groan from a weight-bearing wall behind me.

My body locks for a split-second when I recognize the rumble of the wall collapsing. Every instinct combined with all the adrenaline in me has me gearing up to run.

I’m rushing to get away when a beam falls right in front of me on the grass, thankfully missing the others still standing nearby. I only barely register their shouts as the wall behind me comes crashing down and the house starts to give way.

I feel the heat of the wall at my back, the jerk of my neck as my body collides with the ground, right on top of the hot beam.

I don’t register the ash inside my nostrils, the scent of searing flesh–is that my flesh?–the boom of what feels like an explosion inside my head and my chest.

And then . . .

Her lips are brushing over mine, soft feather-like caresses against my skin. Her mouth curves into a smile before she giggles. Her eyes crinkling at the corners, her nose wrinkling like it does when she’s happy.

“You suck at riddles, Fido.” Her voice sounds far away, like a wind chime in a desert. A sound I’m desperate to find.

I smile back at her, raising my hand to feel the strands of her silky hair slip through my fingers, almost like it’s happening in slow motion.

“But I love you, anyway,” she murmurs near my ear before placing a kiss on my temple. “I love you more every day.”

“Sprinkles,” I breathe out before everything goes dark.

* * *

“Try this one, it’s flatter.” He flips the rock between his fingers before handing it to me.

I use his technique, flicking my hand, keeping my elbow steady while my wrist does all the work, and the rock skims the surface of the lake. It glides across the lake’s rippling expanse, as if intentional in its course–four, five, six times before it sinks with an almost inaudible plop.

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