I kept my head down and ran toward the house. Fire was coming out of the windows, the grass burned, and the tree that was full of beautiful green leaves was black, and some of the branches were bare, trickling with hot coals.
The door was wide open, and the fire hadn’t engulfed it yet, which was good, but a backdraft could happen, and if that happened, we could be trapped inside. Hesitating wasn’t in the job description. That wasn’t what made a good firefighter. I ran inside the house, my breath fogging up the mask with every puff that left my mouth. I looked left, then right, and notice picture frames melted. The couch was on fire, and the stairs going to the second level were on fire too. The black smoke clouded the ceiling, and it was only a matter of time before the place collapsed.
“Ethan!” I called out, breathing in oxygen into my lungs from the tank strapped to my back.
To the right was the kitchen and dining room, the open space nothing but a steady evil tendril of raging fear as the red and orange flickered. I turned left down the hallway and noticed all the doors already kicked in and the rooms inspected.
“Ethan!” I waited for him to reply but none ever came. The fire was too loud, and we needed to get out of here now.
The walls creaked and groaned, wood started to collapse all around me, but I couldn’t leave without him. When the downstairs was cleared, a horrifying realization sat in my bones and rocked me off my feet into a sprint toward the stairs. I didn’t have time to check the steps for any weaknesses with the axe. I took them three at a time, as far as my legs could stretch safely, and when I made it to the top, the floor under me warped.
It hit me right then that this was the fire that could kill me. It was a beast, a monster, not some regular grease fire, but something that seemed accelerated. I stepped to the right, trying to get off the weakened floor and got on my stomach to redistribute my weight. I army crawled on the floor to get to the back bedroom. The door was opened, and it was the only room in the house that wasn’t engulfed in fire. Smoke, yes. Thick, unbreathable clouds of it permeated the air, making it nearly impossible to see.
“Ethan?”
“Easton! Easton, fuck, thank god. Over here.”
“I can’t see anything. Keep talking!”
“To the right, just keep going to the right!”
I ran into a dresser, and I slid my body across it. The smoke got a bit thinner and thinner, and then the reason became apparent.
A chunk of the roof had fallen on Ethan, who was protectively laying over Ms. Williams. Ethan had his mask off and kept transferring it between her and himself. She had black soot around her nose, and she looked unconscious.
“We need to get out of here right fucking now!” I took off my mask, inhaling one last deep breath, and then placed it over his head so he could breathe. My eyes watered, and I gripped the debris keeping him immobile. I heaved it off of him before I took my mask back, took a few more deep breaths, and laid it back over his head.
A loud whistle pierced through the air, and the smoke started to recede out of the bedroom door. I threw myself on Ethan just in time before a loud explosion happened. The fire burst through the bedroom door and sent the entire room ablaze. The foundation of the house rocked, the roof caved, and Ethan and I shared a moment of fear as we locked eyes.
I nodded, understanding what he was saying because I loved him too, and then the floor gave way, burying us in fire, stone, and wood. The last thing I saw before everything went black was big green eyes and wild brown hair.
Luna.
Chapter Eleven
Luna
There were a lot of things to be afraid of in this life.
Heights.
Spiders.
Death.
Hell, maybe even life for some people.
Me? I was afraid to lose a loved one. I guess, in a way, that would be under the category of death. It was something people never expected to have happen to them. Sure, you see people’s loved ones passing away, a hearse driving to the cemetery with a crowd of cars behind it to lay the person in a box to rest, and then there were the obituaries. Death surrounded us every day, but for it to actually touch you? To affect you?
That was something else entirely.
Death was scary even if it was normal, even if it felt like there was nothing normal about it.
It was how I found myself running toward the entrance of Camden Memorial Hospital. I had tears stinging my cheeks. I pumped my arms, and my entire body shook. I don’t know how I managed to keep myself upright. As I ran, my foot caught a pothole, and I tripped. I fell hard, barely catching myself with my hands.
My palms scraped against the rough pebbled surface, but I barely even register the pain and the blood. I pushed myself back up, ignoring the calls of my name from behind me. I left London, Oliver, and my parents in the dust.
There was a sting on the side of my face, and my knee hurts, but none of that mattered.