Charade

Benji

Only those who have been in the situation will know what it feels like.

Instinct encompasses you, drowning the voice in your head, and adrenaline runs as hot and thickly as the blood in your veins. You see little. You feel everything.

I was already in the stairwell before I knew what I was doing. Heat was clawing at my skin and smoke was thick in my throat. The world was orange and hot and deadly. I ran two stairs at a time, sometimes three, until I got to the third floor.

I burst out into the hallway. A man shoved past me, a girl under his arm, both pressing their clothes to their mouths. It was worse up here. Smoke stung my eyes, clouding my mouth and nose. I pulled my shirt over my face and dashed down the hallway. I forced open apartment 306 and crashed to the floor, my shoulder breaking my fall.

Everything was on fire. Orange flames licked at the curtains, devoured the couch, blanketed the kitchen. I looked to my left, down the passage leading to the bedrooms. I took one step, ready to burst into Lily's room, but somebody was standing there. My eyebrows furrowed. He was dressed in black, facing the wall. Vic?

"Get out!" I screamed, ripping him away from the wall. "You need to get out!"

The man looked at me. Furious, grabbed me by the shirt and flung me to the floor, kicking me once in the stomach before darting out the front door. I froze, confused, and then leapt to my feet. I was just about to hunt him down when I remembered why I was here.

The money.

All the money.

The money Lily's life depended on.

I forced open Lily's bedroom door and a whoosh of searing hot fire came pouring out. I covered my face with one arm and felt my flesh melt against the bone. Screaming, I fell out of the room and into the hallway. I looked down at my blackened arm.

The smoke was unbearable. I could feel the world turn fuzzy and felt it try to knock me off my feet. I forced my eyes open. Two minutes, and I'd be out. Two minutes. I just needed to hold on for two minutes. I scrambled into Lily's bedroom, stumbling, crawling, and grabbed the box off her dressing table. It came crashing to the floor, all the money scattered across the carpet. I grabbed it, shoving it all into my pockets, before crawling to the doorway. The smoke billowed up to the ceiling, and I felt my muscles weaken.

"No," I murmured. "No, no, no..."

Then, my arms wouldn't move, my lungs wouldn't fill, my eyes wouldn't open, and darkness swallowed me whole. But not before I saw it, what the man in black had been staring at. There, burning into the wall, was a name. And it was the last thought that entered my head:

Dana.

© A.G. Travers 2015