Go, Ivy, Go! by Lorena McCourtney

Author:Lorena McCourtney [McCourtney, Lorena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

I windmilled my arms, appreciating the luxury of space, before slipping into my new bed. The left-behind air conditioner, although it now sounded a little like an asthmatic lion, cooled the sleeping area to where I didn’t need windows open, which reinforced my feeling of security. The mattress on the sleeper-sofa was just right when I stretched out on it, not too hard, not too soft. Koop looped himself into a furry horseshoe around my head, and I quickly drifted off to sleep.

Deep, sweet, dreamless sleep. In my own home at last.

***

Something wakened me. I didn’t know what, but my body went frozen-fish stiff and my nerves flashed warning signals. A noise. The asthmatic-lion air conditioner? That, but something more. A window breaking and a thud of Braxton feet? No. An ominous creak in the kitchen?

Something more, much more. Strange lights flickering at the uncurtained windows. Koop standing on the back of the sofa, electrified fur ridging his arched back. An ominous feeling that something had rumbled right through my body, with vibrations lingering like the aftershocks of an earthquake. And my ears, with a world-shattering thunder still echoing in them—.

I jumped out of the bed and stumbled to the window. I stared out in disbelief.

The motorhome . . . Dense black smoke billowed upward, flames whipping within the dark cloud. Tongues of flame spurted out the windows. A roaring inferno raged behind them. Pieces of flaming debris littered the yard, more spiraling down like falling fireworks. A larger chunk of something . . . a piece of the motorhome roof ? . . . blazed on the ground. The maple tree flamed a fiery torch within the billowing smoke.

I stood there paralyzed, momentarily unable to comprehend the reality of what was happening. The snarl of the fire amped up even as I watched. Now it was the roar of an oncoming train. Something whizzed toward the house as if shooting out of a 3D movie, and I automatically ducked. It thudded against the house

I fumbled for my cell phone on the cardboard box I’d set beside the sofa to use as a nightstand. Flames lit the room and flickering shadows danced on the far wall. Koop clawed his way under the bed. I punched in the 911 numbers and garbled a yell: Fire! An explosion . . . another explosion? . . . rocked the house and I clutched the sofa. A fireball spewed out the top of the motorhome where the roof had once been.

I gave the address, dropped the phone and ran for the back door, fumbled with the lock and yanked the door open. There was a hose out back. Maybe I could save—

The deluge hit my head. A thick tide sloshed over me. It ran into my eyes, dripped down my cheeks, rolled down my neck. I froze. Something sticky had blasted out of the motorhome?

No.

I groaned. My booby trap. Meant for villainous Braxtons, but indiscriminately dumping a sticky avalanche on whoever happened to open the door.

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