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“He’s dead! I killed him. Please, Carolyn. You don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. We have to go!”
Carolyn hesitated, and Lucy grabbed her under the arms and dragged her out. Carolyn cried out in pain, but Lucy didn’t stop. She knew the girl was injured, but getting her out of the burning house was paramount.
“Sean,” Lucy said, “can you carry her?”
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.” She didn’t know if she could. She touched her ankle and came away with blood. It hurt, but she thought she was only grazed. “Go, she’s really weak.”
Sean was obviously torn, but picked Carolyn up and draped her over his shoulder. Lucy pulled herself to her feet. She tried to walk, but her left leg crumbled beneath her. Sean turned around, panic in his expression.
“Go!” she said. “I’m coming.”
She crawled across the floor behind Sean. He went up the stairs and through the door. She was halfway up the stairs when the ceiling sagged above her and she screamed. The fire was so loud she knew no one could have heard her. The burning wood, the creaks and crackling—she coughed and reached for the railing to pull herself up. She hopped on her good foot, using the railing for support.
Fingers of flames reached through the open door. The wood railing, weakened by Miller’s fall, quickly caught fire. The stairs themselves creaked and she feared they’d collapse from the top, dropping her to the ground below with no way out.
At the top of the stairs, Sean emerged. He stepped onto the short landing and the stairs swayed dramatically. He stepped back.
“Lucy, hurry!”
She let go of the burning rail and crawled up the stairs as they swayed. She felt everything shift downward and she reached for Sean…
He grabbed her wrist as the staircase collapsed. He was coughing, his face black with soot, but he pulled her up, every muscle straining in his neck and arms. They collapsed on the kitchen floor, coughing. The heat from the flames devouring the house was intense.
“Luce,” Sean coughed as they slithered on their bellies through the smoky kitchen.
A figure dressed all in black came in. He wore a SWAT mask. He grabbed Lucy by the underarms and pulled her through the house and out the front door.
“Sean!” she cried.
“I’ll get him.”
Her eyes stung and she couldn’t see clearly, but she recognized that voice. Noah Armstrong. He ran up the stairs and into the burning house.
She stared, terrified she’d lose Sean, that Noah would die trying to save him. Miller must have used accelerant, and coupled with the age of the house and the old, dry wood, the fire had spread in minutes.
The roof caved in and the house seemed to shift as it swayed. She coughed, and Dillon was suddenly at her side, putting a portable oxygen mask over her face.
She took a couple of breaths, then pushed it aside.
“Lucy, you’re bleeding.”
“I’m okay.”
Dillon hugged her tightly.
“Sean—”
“Noah is getting him out. Are you really okay?”
She couldn’t answer. She stared at the door. Please, please!
The house continued to collapse in on itself.
Sean and Noah hadn’t come out.
“No,” she moaned. “No!”
