Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Chip’s angry expression morphs into one of confusion as he squints past me. “Is that smoke? That’s down by where you live, right?”
I whirl around unsteadily and fixate on where Chip’s pointing. Sure enough, black smoke billows up past the trees at the base of Park Mountain. Is Grandpa burning trash?
In the distance, I hear sirens.
Holy shit.
I take off in a sprint toward the rooftop door and burst through it. The race all the way down three floors feels like it’s taking forever. When I pass by Uncle Theo, who owns the lodge, I manage to bark out that there’s a fire, rushing by him without waiting for his response.
My heart thrums rapidly in my chest and the world around me spins. Stupid weed. I’m an idiot for smoking it. Especially now, when my family could be in danger.
Grandpa’s house is ancient. What if he accidentally set it on fire burning limbs or trash? He’s been flighty ever since Grandma died.
What if it’s my house?
Bile creeps up my throat. It can’t be my house. I refuse to believe it. Launching myself into my black Jeep, I fumble for my keys and then stab the correct one into the ignition. Then I peel out of the parking lot and barrel down the mountainside, taking the private road that’ll pass right by my house.
As I come around the bend, the smoke is much thicker. It takes me a second to realize the house burning is indeed mine. Flames billow out the windows on the second floor from both my room and Callum’s.
No.
I floor it, racing across the road until I’m in our driveway. I barely get the Jeep into park before I’m out of it, charging toward the house. The first thing I notice is the heat.
Fuck, it’s so hot.
But Mom could be in there.
I storm up the porch steps and grab the door handle. White-hot pain sears across my palm and fingers, making me howl in response. I jerk my hand back and shake it as I curse. The sirens in the distance are growing louder as they approach.
Maybe I should wait for the fire department.
Someone screams inside.
No!
With inhuman strength, I kick the front door with all my might. It flings open, the doorframe splintering with the explosion. A burst of heat and black smoke blasts out of the home, causing me to cough and wave off the thick cloud.
Another scream.
I can’t leave her there to die.
Sucking in a huge breath of tainted air, I rush straight into the burning house. On a mission to find Mom, I no longer care about burning my hands or inhaling smoke or fucking dying.
I just have to save her.
Parts of the ceiling crash and fall, burying the living room sofas in fiery debris. I stumble away from the scene, hoarsely calling out for my mother.
“J-Jude?”
Her voice is so small. So far away. Hidden beyond the flames and sparkling embers. It’s too hot—too fucking terrifying—to go that way. But she’s my mom. I have to.
Choking on the smoke and with tears flooding down my cheeks, I stumble toward the sound of her croaking voice. I find her pinned beneath a burning beam of wood. She reaches a hand for me, eyes wide with horror.
“W-What are you doing here?” she hisses. “You’re supposed to b-be in school!”
Though I’m struck by her confusing words, I don’t let them scare me off. I grab onto her arm and pull. She screams but doesn’t budge an inch. Panic pulses through every nerve ending in my body.
We’re going to die.
Another black cloud of smoke washes over me, sending me into a fit of coughs. I don’t wait to recover and instead launch myself at the fiery beam, grabbing onto it and lifting.
Into the dark recesses of my mind, I bury away the sickening pain, instead focusing on using my foot to shove Mom away. She rolls several times from the force of my kick, but it’s enough to get her out of here.
I stumble, landing on my palms. My skin sticks to the wood and sizzles. With a roar, I pull them off and grab hold of my mother, hauling her to her feet. She’s limp and heavy, unable to stand on her own. A sob of frustration rips through me, but I push through, scooping her into my arms.
I can’t think or speak or fucking see.
All I know and feel is fire and pain.
We have to escape.
More debris crashes down around us. I trip over parts of it, sending both me and Mom slamming to the floor. Before I can pick her back up, the rest of the ceiling starts dropping hellfire on us. All I can manage is to cover her body with mine, hoping it’ll be enough to keep her alive until the fire department arrives. Mom doesn’t make a sound while I cough and cough and cough.