No response.
I crouched down, setting the dictionary aside. The man lay on his stomach, face turned away from me. I should have gotten up, should have run out the door and called the police. But I’m the cat that curiosity keeps trying to kill. I pulled the sleeves of my coat over my hands and heaved the guy onto his back.
There was a dark spot on my floor that matched his chest, and my stomach rolled. I didn’t need to get closer—I could smell the blood. The guy’s eyes were open, and he had a dead, vacant expression. His hair was oddly styled, and he had a weird little beard. For some reason that stuck with me. He looked like a man who reenacted the Civil War. That was the first thought I had, minus the fact that he was wearing old-style women’s clothing.
As if this couldn’t get any fucking more bizarre, I noticed a slip of paper sticking up from his coat pocket. My hands shook as I leaned over and tugged it free by the corner. I unfolded the regular notebook paper with some blood on it.
It began with a fire.
I dropped the letter, my hands shaking too much by then. Nope, I was done with this. I stood, taking several steps back while fighting to free my cell from my pocket. I called Calvin.
He answered, thank God.
“Hey,” he said, sounding tired.
“T-There’s a dead guy in my apartment!” I shouted into the phone.
A beat. “What?”
“Holy shit, Cal. What do I do?”
“Get out,” Calvin said immediately. “Get out of the building, right now. Go somewhere safe. I’m on my way.”
“Okay,” I said automatically, already moving to the door. “I’ll go across the street to the coffee shop.”
“Wait there. Don’t move from that spot, understand? Ten minutes, I promise.”
I hung up and slid my phone into my pocket again. Without a second thought, I grabbed my keys and ran out.
I locked the door—I’m not sure why—and was halfway down the stairs when the building shook and burst into flames.
MY HEADhurt and it was hard to breathe. I was lying in the stairwell, drywall and broken banisters littering me and the floor. I could hear fire alarms going off above and below me. Blood was dripping down my neck.
I couldn’t see.
Where were my sunglasses?
The building shook violently once more, and it protested and groaned loudly, more debris falling from above. I curled into a ball, covering my head as parts of the ceiling landed on me. I peeked up after a moment. Everything was extremely blurry—foggy even.
Smoke.
I smelled burning.
Someone was screaming.
I struggled to my feet, coughing and feeling lightheaded. Instinct told me to run. I was a flight and a half from the front door, and that’s where safety was. That’s where Calvin would be. But someone was still screaming and crying.
Then I realized it was my neighbor.
“S-Sally?” I called out, voice drowned by the creaking and splintering of wood. “Sally!” I tried again. I raced back up the stairs.
Or what was left of them.
I tripped and stumbled my way back to the third floor, but it wasn’t there anymore.
I couldn’t reach the landing because it was full of debris. Through bits of it, I could feel wisps of cold air.
My apartment wasgone.
