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“Get our stuff,” Maravic grunted. Then he picked up one of the jerry cans of fuel and upended it, sloshing gasoline across the floor. He hurled the can into the room and it bounced and came to a stop on its side only a few feet from us, spewing a lake of gasoline across the concrete. Chyort!
Maravic snapped open a lighter and tossed it onto the floor. A wavefront of neon blue shot outwards, blooming into orange and red, and suddenly the whole floor was on fire. Maravic stepped back from the doorway. “You can burn to death instead, you Russian whore,” he said. Then he hauled down the metal roller door, sealing us inside.
40
COLTON
I looked at Tanya in panic. Fuck. Almost the entire floor was already covered in gasoline and we had to dodge back against the wall so our clothes didn’t catch on fire. The heat was already building: we were in a metal box with no windows and already, the air was like an oven. But the real problem was the air. The flames were eating up all the oxygen and in another few seconds there wouldn’t be enough to breathe.
I grabbed Tanya around the waist and lifted her onto the roof of the old car. The flames had spread under and around it but, for now, they hadn’t scaled the sides and the roof was a dark, cool little island. Then I found a shrinking path between the flames and ran to the door, hoping I could break the chain. But it was brand new, the links thicker than my fingers, and the padlock was good quality. I looked around frantically for a crowbar but all the tools were in the main garage. Fuck.
I ran to the roller door and heaved on the handle. Maravic and his goons might be on the other side waiting for us, but I’d take that over burning to death. But the door didn’t budge: Maravic must have locked it from the other side.
I spun around and looked at the room. The flames had spread to cover the entire floor. Worse, they were climbing the shelves. Cans of paint were blistering and popping their lids, plastic bottles of antifreeze and brake fluid were melting and as all of it burned, it belched a thick, black chemical cocktail. I started to cough and once I started, I couldn’t stop.
I tried to run back to the car, but there was no path anymore. I had to run through the flames and if my clothes hadn’t been soaking wet from the rain, I would have had no chance. As it was, I scrambled up onto the roof with Tanya slapping out flames on my calves and thighs. My eyes were streaming from the smoke, now, but I could see her looking at me, terrified. What do we do?
I shook my head. I had no answer.
The heat was so intense I could feel my exposed skin being scorched. The flames were rising up to the ceiling and were climbing the sides of the car, the paint bubbling and peeling. The car’s roof had become a small raft in a sea of orange. We collapsed on our sides, coughing, and stared at each other. Fuck. I’d thought about dying, in an abstract kinda way, but I’d never figured it would be like this. Not separated from the team. What really hurt was that the truth would never come out. JD and the others would forever think I was a traitor.
Tanya’s hand found mine and squeezed, and I squeezed back. I was separated from the team, but I wasn’t on my own.
I breathed in and got only smoke. I could feel the hair in my nostrils being singed. This is it.
My lungs filled with filthy, oily smoke and I wheezed and rolled over onto my stomach, choking, still holding Tanya’s hand. Through tearing eyes, I stared down into the flames—
And that’s when I saw it. Just for a second, as the flames flickered. Textured metal, and a name. C. SEW.
My oxygen-starved brain stared at it blankly. Who is C. Sew?
The flames flickered a little more. Some guy with two middle names. N. Y. C. Sew. The guy who owned the garage, maybe. But why had he engraved his name on the floor?
I closed my eyes, my muscles going limp. But some part of my brain kept working on the puzzle. N. Y. C. Sew. N. Y. C. Sew...
N.Y.C. Sewer.
My eyes opened wide and I stared down at it. This shed had been built illegally to extend the garage. The floor was part of the alley. And in the middle of the alley was a manhole cover.
I tried to rouse Tanya but she’d passed out. I looked down at the manhole cover, trying to get my brain to work.
