Gone by Shirlee McCoy

Author:Shirlee McCoy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mills & Boon Love Inspired
Published: 2018-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

The day had gone from calm to chaos so quickly Ella’s head was spinning.

Or maybe it was the smoke that was making it do that.

Wren had tugged her into the hallway, while Sam and Radley ran out of the apartment. Within seconds, black smoke had seeped up through the floorboards, filling her lungs and stinging her eyes.

The siren stopped screaming, the sound dying abruptly, and the silence was more terrifying than the cacophony of noise had been.

“What happened?” she said, her throat raw, her voice hoarse.

“The electricity must have shorted out the alarm. It should be running on batteries, too, but sometimes landlords get lazy,” Wren replied, dragging Ella a few more feet down the hall.

The bathroom was there, and she must have known it.

She opened the door and shoved Ella into the room.

“Turn on the faucet. Wet some towels. Quickly.”

Ella did as she asked, grabbing a pile of towels from the linen closet and tossing it into the claw-foot tub. She ran water over them, coughing as smoke billowed into the room.

“Good enough. Let’s go,” Wren shouted, grabbing the towels and tossing one around Ella’s shoulders.

“Wrap it around your head. Cover your nose and mouth.”

They stepped back into the hall, and the smoke was so thick, Ella could barely see.

“Let’s get low and get out,” Wren shouted, yanking Ella to the floor, the sound of flames crackling and wood splitting almost drowning out her voice.

That was worse—much, much worse—than the sound of the siren had been.

“What about Sam and Radley?” she tried to shout, but the words caught in her throat, and she coughed so violently she saw stars.

The floor seemed to be burning from beneath, the wood warping as she crawled back toward the kitchen. She knew Wren was ahead of her, but she could barely see her through the thick smoke.

Please, Lord, she prayed. Get us all out of here alive.

Her knees and palms burned, but she managed to find her way through the hall and into the kitchen. The smoke was lighter there—a misty gray cloud that floated through the room.

“We need to get the door open,” Wren shouted, dragging Ella to her feet and pulling her to the balcony door.

The emergency exit.

The one that was blocked.

“The window will be quicker,” Ella responded, the back of her throat tasting like ash and hot coal, her eyes streaming with tears she didn’t have time to wipe away.

Her purse was still over her shoulder, the towel wrapped around the lower part of her face as she ran to the sink and fumbled with the window’s lock.

Her fingers were clumsy, but she finally managed it, shoving it open so that cold air blew in. Somewhere deep inside the house, the fire roared.

She could almost picture it.

Growing bigger. Feeding off the old wood and the dry wallpaper, the pretty couches and lovely throw rugs.

“You think you can get through there?” Wren asked, suddenly at her side, the lower part of her face covered, the upper part smudged with soot.

“Easily.” But she suddenly realized that Wren probably could not.

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