Chapter 75: Alex (Part 2)

Jogging up to our front yard, I slowed to a stop as the thick, heavy line of smoke rising from my house dawned on me just how severe the circumstances were. The warmth of the house fire tickled the thin hair on my arms and legs as I staggered closer, wondering what could have happened in the short window I was gone. The fire that had started was still meek, dispersed amongst various components of the household.

But the fire was spreading. And spreading faster than my eyes could possibly keep up with. Who knew what the damage and situation were like on the inside? It won’t be long until the entire house is engulfed in a rampage of wrathful flames, the sea of bright amber unapologetic for whatever… or whomever… is trapped in their pursuit of relentless destruction.

“Bee! Mom! Where are you?!” I shout as loud as possible, which makes me inhale some smoke, spurring me into a brief coughing fit.

Covering my nose and mouth with the collar of my shirt and holding it with my hand, I circle around the house, hoping my mom and sister managed to get out. But all the exits around the house except for the front door were blocked off by flames or debris. And I didn’t see Bee or mom anywhere.

By the time I returned to the front of the house, only a minute had passed. But over a quarter of the house was now caught in a fierce blaze. The line of smoke that I had spotted earlier came across as almost docile now, as the dense cloud of black and grey has nearly tripled in size, storming high into the night sky.

Standing there, sporadically coughing and bearing the heat… it felt like I was beside a furnace nearing maximum temperature. A large piece of lumber came crashing down the side of the house, making a giant ‘cracking’ sound as a new outburst of flames sprouted from its position. I then heard one of the windows shatter on the second floor, sending glass shards showering into the grass a few feet away from me. And that was when I heard a scream. A long, trauma-inducing, panicked scream that came from my sister.

My senses were overwhelmed, but my mind was calm. There was only one thing I was thinking about.

“Bee… mom… I’ll save you…” I utter, dropping Bumble on the grass outside and picking up the pace.

Quickly entering through the front door, I am instantly bombarded with an intimidating wave of prickling heat. It felt like the flames dancing around me were gnawing away at my exposed skin.

Upstairs, they’re probably still upstairs!

Tiny, dancing flames were scattered amongst the stairs, but I managed to climb them quickly without getting burned. Heading upstairs, I take a left after reaching the top toward Bee’s bedroom. The smoke that hadn’t yet escaped the household was trapped amongst the underside of the ceiling, making me cough much more frequently.

Flinging open her door, I call for Bee, unconcerned about the potential consequences.

No response.

Panicking, I notice that her bed is still neatly made, meaning she hasn’t tried to sleep yet. The wardrobe in the corner was burnt to a crisp, and her room was unsalvageable.

She’s not here, she’s okay!

I exhaled with relief, and I started coughing, the smoke scratching the back of my throat.

“She was probably waiting for me to get back with Bumble… Mom! Where is she?!” I whispered, already en route toward the master bedroom.

Opening the door, I know what to look for this time. My eyes instantly darted toward my parent’s bed, which was also untouched.

My momentary comfort that they weren’t still asleep was quickly displaced as a new worry set in.

Where are they??

Running back down the steps, jumping over patches of flames that licked at the soles of my shoes, I round into the main hallway, where one finds themselves upon entering the house. A kitchen is at the end of the broad hallway, and to the left is a living room. Something within me sensed that if there was anywhere in the house my family could be right now, it was in the living room.

Another high-pitched squeal was then emitted, the sound bouncing off the crumbling, scorched walls of the house, which only confirmed my hypothesis. Sprinting down the hallway, a large piece of the ceiling caves right in front of me. Not having time to wrap back around and go to the living room the long way, I narrow my eyes and sprint right toward the heap of flaming debris blocking my path.

Leaping off the ground, I engage in a technique taught a year or so ago at the academy, where you place both feet at a particular angle, allowing you to run on the wall for a couple of steps. You can only succeed without slipping off if you approach the wall at the correct angle, and your pace and precision on each step have to be damn near perfect.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Luckily for me, I’ve been trained since I was an infant. This is just muscle memory at this point.

As I sprung off the wall, the fact that I didn’t fall into the pile and get burned confirmed that I cleared the obstacle. Not looking back, I entered the kitchen, which was once boastful of its pristine, engaging design. I could feel it; the flames were at their strongest here. The countertops my mother used to cook on were unrecognizable, and the ground emanated a thin layer of heat covering every corner of the room.

I can’t waste any time here. I need to get to Bee!

Hearing more glass shatter up ahead, another scream echoes.

“Bee! Bee!!” I cough. “Mom! I’m coming!!”

As I quickly make my way across the blazing kitchen floor, I wince as my ankles and shoes get nicked and marked with burn marks. Desperately passing by the kitchen table, I’m only a few steps away from my family when time starts to slow.

BOOM!

The ceiling above me caves open, and a barrage of flaming items from my bedroom falls all around me, blocking off the path to the living room, making the entrance there impossible to get through.

“Shit!” I say, backtracking to the hallway, the kitchen no longer being a viable route.

Guess I have to go the long way…

That thought vanished instantly as I took in the sight before me. It couldn't have been any longer than a couple of seconds, but the pile of debris I had jumped over earlier spread, making the walls catch on fire.

I don’t have time for this…!

Once more, charging at the pile, I use the same technique as earlier, gritting my teeth as I barely manage to avoid the top of the debris. But this time, I didn’t escape the mount unscathed, as my right hand and wrist, which I momentarily placed against the wall to propel myself forward, were both burned.

Bellowing out in agony, I glance at my shaking arm, which I quickly grasp with my left hand for stability. I then recognized striking black splodges ingrained into my wrist and fingertips, portraying the exact spots where I was burned.

Cursing under my breath, another scream from a much older voice comes from the direction of the living room.

“Mom!” I yell, wincing from the pain in my hand and wrist.

The crackling of flames encompasses me from all directions, but my mind blocks everything around me out. The sound of fiery chaos is nonexistent; all I hear is my mother’s cry.

Running back toward the front entrance while holding my wrist, I take a right this time, panting as I enter my dad’s office. Tears swelter on the rims of my eyes as I force myself to ignore the excruciating pain coming from my arm and remember the house's layout. A bathroom leading toward the dining room is connected to my dad's office. And openly connected to the dining room… is the living room.

As I opened the first door into the cramped bathroom, a wave of fear hit me as I took in the monstrous ferocity of the flames scattered around the inside. But I only hesitated for a moment.

Determined to save my mother and sister, I sprinted through the flames, repeatedly telling myself that I was not in pain. That I’m not this weak.

I’m strong. I need to be strong. Because if I’m not strong, I won’t be able to save them!

The other end of the bathroom was thankfully open. I raced into the dining room, almost running into certain death by crashing into the engulfed dinner table. Still, I managed to stop my momentum just in the nick of time.

Turning to my right, I finally rested my eyes on the living room I’d gone through hell to reach, which had flames almost ceremoniously encircling the room's perimeter. Weirdly, though, there were no flames on the floor or ceiling. It was as if the fire had been deliberately placed along the outer edge of the walls.

But most importantly, the open pathway that connected the living room to the dining room was completely blocked off by debris that had collapsed in from the ceiling, piling on top of one another well above my head. Through the burning rubble, I saw my mother and sister at the center of the room, the coffee table that once occupied that exact spot pushed aside.

I wanted to move. I wanted to help. Every fiber in my being was screaming at me to go to them.

But I couldn’t. The presence… the bloodlust… kept me silently frozen in place.

“Don’t! Please don’t kill my daughter!” pleaded my mother, a figure standing behind her that had placed a glass blade on my mother's neck.

The individual was dressed in a navy suit, and I couldn’t make out his or her face from my angle.

“Mom!! What’s happening?!” worriedly asked Bee.

My mother gently smiled despite the circumstances, “Nothing, sweetie, everything is okay. I need you to do something for me. Turn around and close your eyes.” She coughs a few times, “Close your eyes and cover your ears. Can you do that, Bee? Can you do that for me?”

“Why, Mom?”

“It’s not time to ask questions, Bee. Just listen to what I’m saying. I’ll help you make all the apple pies in the world if you listen now!”

Bee hopped up and down a few times, innocent of how grave the circumstances were, “Okay!”

Bee did as she was asked, turning so she would face away from my mother, closing her eyes, and covering her ears with her hands.

“What do you want with me?” my mother detestably asked the unknown person, her tone brimming with anger.

As she awaited a response, I noticed her eyes darting around, perhaps trying to find a weapon or something that could help her. And that’s when her eyes meet mine. Her gaze softened, and she wordlessly mouthed a single word to me and made a gesture with her hand, out of sight from the person threatening her very life. Her hand changed into the shape of a finger pointing behind me, representing the figure of a gun. My eyes widened.

Dad’s handgun that he keeps in the office!

Running back through the fiery blaze of the bathroom, I find my way to his desk, and luckily, the drawer where he keeps his gun hasn’t been wholly scorched and destroyed by the flames yet. Pulling open the drawer, I remember how he showed me to open the false bottom. I grabbed the gun after it revealed itself. Turning off the safety, I sprinted back through the scorching bathroom and reentered the dining room.

I must save them!