It’s too hot in this damn room.
I push the window, but it jolts, only opening an inch. It’s a safety feature Stephen had installed, stops anyone from accidently falling out and suing his arse. I drop to my knees and rest my chin on the window frame. It’s easier to breathe here, and I relish the cool air on my lips, taking a few deep gulps of air before shouting out of the window.
I go for the cliché, “Help,” and it leaves me as a bleat. I’m the world’s most pathetic lamb asking not to be barbequed.
That small word—those four letters—are the hardest I’ve ever had to speak. It breaks apart in my throat. The end and the beginning are both too soft, lost in the wheeze of my parched breaths. I’m incoherent, and quiet, and helpless when calling for help.
“Come on, Freddie,” Liam says. “Nice and loud. You shout for my brother.”
Ryker. He’s out there.
It’s more than four letters, and it’s not just a word, it’s a name, one of my best friends’ names, and my other best friend is ordering me to shout it. It’s not as soft as “Help.” It’s harsh, sharp, and it can’t bebleated. It’s strong like the man, like I need to be.
Liam needs me to be strong for him too.
We’ve started something. It’s new, terrifying, but I know it can beautiful too, and I don’t want to let it go, not yet, not ever.
I take in a deep breath.
“Ryker!”
I curl my fingers over the edge of the window and hang on tight. The smell of burning is stronger now, the fog is thicker, and darker too, and my head . . . Christ, my head. It doesn’t make sense. It’s featherlight and boulder heavy all at once. The weight of it pulls at my neck, and I drop the dead weight to rest on the window frame.
I can’t keep a single thought, they just float away, caught on an updraft.
“Freddie?” comes Ryker’s reply from outside, then he screams my name. I manage to wriggle my fingers, poking through the bottom of the window, then I drag my head up and open my eyes. But I wince as a beam of light is directed my way, and I duck back down.
They’ve seen me . . . now all they’ve got to do is save me.
20
Liam
I’m not in my police car. There are no blue and white lights flashing, but I drive like there is, earning me beeps and curses and shaking fists from windows. I don’t care, though. Freddie’s on speaker, and he’s panting. He keeps trying to say something to me, but he trails off after the first syllable. There’s no strength left in him to complete a word, but it’s the tone of his aborted attempts, the dejected way they come out like he’s given up that fills me with fear.
“Keep breathing, Freddie.”
I see the smoke now in the distance. It flashes with the emergency vehicles on scene. Blue, white, blue, white. There’s a police car, and hopefully an ambulance too. The traffic slows as we reach a junction, and even though the light is green, the car at the front of the queue doesn’t pull off. I slam my fist on my horn, and when his response is too slow, I mount the curb to go around the jam. No doubt I’ll get in trouble for it later, but right now, I couldn’t care less.
There’s no ambulance, but there is a police car parked behind the fire engine. The officer begins waving me away with a scowl, but I lean forward and the white strobe from his car hits my face. His lips pop open, then he’s waving me towards him.
I throw open my door, and the officer catches it with a surprised grunt. “Woah, Liam, what are you doing here?”
It’s an irrelevant question I don’t waste time on. “Tell me the situation.”
He rushes alongside me, but I come to an abrupt halt beside the fire engine. Four fire fighters, one certainly my brother, are positioning a ladder. A fucking ladder. It’s thirteen meters long, the longest that’s kept on a standard fire engine, but it’s not the best piece of equipment for the job. They thought they were dealing with a no-occupancy fire, and although I’m certain a request would’ve been made for a truck with an aerial ladder platform, there’s no time.
“There’s a casualty on the second floor. Ambulance is on the way, and Stafford Fire Department have despatched a unit to assist, but they’re going to be another ten minutes. The casualty was responding to calls of his name by moving his fingers, but he’s since let go of the window frame.”
I bow over slightly, and the officer, Grant, grabs my elbow. “You okay?”
The four firefighters are all kitted out in their breathing apparatus. It takes four of them to use the ladder, one up it while three hold it secure, which means no one is dousing the flames. They’re prioritising saving a life over controlling the fire, but there’ll come a point where they’ll all be in danger if they can’t get Freddie out fast enough, and the chief will value the lives of his crew over the person trapped inside.
There’s always a ticking clock.
“Come on,” I say, running to the ladder.
I know it’s Ryker who’s harnessed in and halfway up. He doesn’t notice my arrival, but his crew do.
