Come Together 》Octavian's Story

Up in Smoke

A/N This chapter was written by my co-author, TheRenewedEve. From now on, just know that anything in Penn's P. O. V. was written by her, and anything in Jesse's is by me.
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Penn's P. O. V.

  "You've definitely earned it, fighting that monster."

  A small bit of pride splashed over me. I tightened my grip on the hatchet, splintered handle and all. The small pricks in my hand were nothing compared to the ache in my head, the adrenaline in coursing through my body, and the fear in my heart.

  It was only slightly less chaotic in the living room then it was in the study. The smoke detectors were screeching their little batteries out, and the noise was making Fredric frantic. Jesse rushed to his cage and began trying to catch him, yelling a few choice words as she did so, her backpack already slung on her shoulders. The study was already completely on fire, and the flames were starting to spread...allow me to back up a moment.

  My name is Penelope Lane, although I prefer Penn if you've heard anything from Jesse. I'm fifteen, have reddish-blonde hair that curls around my shoulders, and far too many freckles for my liking.

  Though I suppose my appearance would matter less if I was burned to a crisp.

  I could still barely register what had happened; one minute we were peacefully talking at a sleepover, the next, we were stabbing monsters and the house was on fire. I followed Jesse blindly as we left the room, and I suppose it was the instinct to get rid of the evidence that made me try to give her back the hatchet. She told me to keep it.

  Now I had no idea what to do.

  "Penn!" Jesse shouted.

  "Yeah?" I shouted back. Not sure why we were shouting, we were ten feet away from each other. That was probably the adrenaline and hysteria talking, I reasoned.

  "Get your backpack and some food!" She ordered.

  "Why?! Are we abandoning house?" I yelped.

  "Yes!"

  "Why?!"

  "Because it's on fire!"

  "Why can't we just call 911?"

  "Because we need to get out for that to happen!"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Whaddaya mean, what do I mean?!"

  "Can't we just use the house phone?"

  "NO!"

  "WHY?!"

  "BECAUSE THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!!"

  Right on cue, the door to the study collapsed, blasting out embers that nipped at my heels. I yelped and jumped away, batting them off my pants, before sprinting away from the doorway and saddling myself with my own backpack. I darted for the kitchen, my shoes sliding a little on the slippery tile floor as I ran towards the pantry.

  I frantically scanned the shelves for non-perishable food. Bread was good, right? You could store it and stuff, couldn't you? And maybe, I dunno, canned food? Preferably the kind with the tab that you could peel the lid back with, because I wasn't going to waste time looking for a can opener.
I wound up grabbing a half a loaf of bread, two cans of good old Spaghetti-o's, some fruit cups, and a bag of kibble for Fredric, and stuffed it all in my backpack (which was already pretty full with my pyjamas and a sleeping bag). We would need something to drink, too, so I grabbed some bottled water.