Project Perses: Redemption

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

The news stations would later report that it was a massive gas leak that had taken out Myra’s house, and the other three surrounding houses, leaving a smoking crater behind.  Due to the late hour, it was pretty impressive that more people weren’t seriously injured or killed but somehow, due to the loud explosions that had occurred just minutes before the larger blast, many were able to flee their homes and avoid losing their lives.  Chicago’s finest had responded in record time to the four alarm fire, assisted by a barrage of officers and EMT’s to assist in the search and recovery as well as to control the growing crowds as the fire spread from house to house.

The main loss of life occurred at the originating address; with five victims that had yet to be identified. The fire was being labeled as catastrophic, and already the media was calling out for better controls and procedures for handling gas leaks, especially in neighborhoods like these that were older and may not have gas lines that were up to code. 

Of course it hadn’t really been a gas leak.  The media had accepted the story hook, line and sinker.  It wasn’t like they could be told the truth.

The grenade had gone off only feet from me, blowing me backward from the door.  After impacting with the wall behind me, I found I was still gripping the damn door knob. 

Fire was raging in the front living room, racing up the curtains, engulfing the wallpaper and charging across the ceiling.  The hall was already impassible, a sheet of fire creeping its way into the kitchen.  The media wasn’t 100% incorrect; this house did have gas lines, and a major one was in the kitchen, specifically servicing the stove. 

Once the fire reached that line, it was anyone’s guess what would happen.  Rising from the indention I had left in the dry wall, I stumbled back to the door and using my fingers, tore it open, shattering the door frame where it had been bolted from the inside. 

I was half way down the stairs when the flames reached the kitchen with a whooshing sound, right where I had just been standing.  The house was a tinderbox, its age working against it.  I could feel the oxygen getting sucked out of the air as the fire consumed everything, the heat very quickly become unbearable. 

There was a groaning sound above me as I tore down the steps, and then very distinctly, I heard the sound of wood cracking, the supportive framing of the house losing its battle against the overall weight of the upper floors.  The fire was moving too fast, way too fast.

There was no one down stairs manning the security cameras, which I immediately found strange.  Had the screens been monitored, a red flag would have been raised before the trespassers had made it inside.  Something about this didn’t seem right, given Myra’s penchant for security. 

“Vanessa?”  I yelled, checking the entire basement and not finding her, Myra or the men that should have been watching the cameras. 

It left only one place that they could be hiding. 

I was at the door and testing the knob in the blink of an eye, and wasn’t surprised to find it locked.  Glancing to the far wall, sure enough, the keys were missing from their hook on the wall.  “Vanessa!”  I screamed through the door.  “It’s me! We have to get you out of there. The house is on fire!”