Accelerant.
Has to be.
I drop to one knee and sweep my gloved hand across the floor in front of me.
Clear.
Another few feet.
Clear.
Smoke pushes against my mask, black and heavy, turning the world into shadows and heat. My alarm chirps softly with each breath from the tank.
I force myself to slow down.
Running blind gets people killed.
So does panic.
“Livy!” I shout.
The mask eats half my voice.
No answer.
I keep moving.
Left hand to the wall.
Right hand sweeping.
I find the stairs by nearly slamming shoulder-first into the first step.
“Located the stairs,” I bark, though no one outside can hear me unless the radio clipped to the borrowed gear is actually working.
Static answers.
Of course.
I climb anyway.
The heat worsens halfway up, which is a bad sign.
Very bad.
Fire wants to climb. Smoke wants to kill. Stairs turn into chimneys when a house burns wrong.
This house is burning wrong.
I reach the landing and drop low again, crawling now. My shoulder clips a picture frame, causing it to fall and shatter somewhere behind me.
“Livy!”
Nothing.
Second door on the left.
My body settles into muscle memory as I make my way toward Livy’s room.
