《Survivor's Guilt》chapter forty-seven
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The second floor was vacant and, even though they didn't hear any other noises, they decided to climb the final flight to do a quick check of the third level. Yael trailed Casey, bouncing between fear and curiosity. Each time they passed an open apartment door, she was worried at what they might find and was equally impressed with the space and authentic detailing. Even after a thorough sanding, the original molding looked wonderful, and the tall windows offered breathtaking city views.
"Maybe they left?" she whispered.
"Maybe."
Yael sighed, letting herself be drawn into a doorway. "Look at the light coming in these windows."
"Some crime-fighting partner you are." Casey joined her in the sun-flooded apartment and glanced around. "I am beginning to gain a whole new appreciation for builders in the early 1900's. They knew how to make a small area appear bigger."
"Higher ceilings help." She smirked. "Wait, did you just compliment something that wasn't the newest and fanciest?"
"So?"
"I need to write this down."
"I'm never bringing you to my place," he said.
"Why?"
"You'll just make fun of it!"
"Mirrors on the ceiling?"
Casey approached her and bent, burying his face in her neck and pressing his lips there. "Only if you beg."
Desire muddled her brain. She grabbed him, pulled him in close, and kissed him hard. He groaned against her, driving her back until she was pressed against the bare studs of the far wall. Yael pushed her hips to his, and he chuckled into her hair.
"How scandalous, Miss Malkah."
"What?" she panted, wishing he'd shut the hell up and put his mouth on hers.
"Christening your building in broad daylight."
"Bet your ass."
A crash echoed from the hall outside the apartment, the sound of a bottle breaking and the recognizable splash of liquid. Casey spun away from her, retrieving the hammer Yael didn't remember him dropping. Footsteps made their way down the hallway, and the air around them stilled as if the building was holding its breath.
"Who's there?" Casey called out, inching closer to the door.
The steps stopped, allowing other sounds to materialize—crackling and popping.
Casey reached the door, Yael right on his heels with a fistful of his shirt. He peered around the corner, and she felt his body tense.
"Shit."
Looking over his shoulder, she froze in fear. A barrier of fire stood between them and the stairs, blocking the exit. It raced along the walls with lightning speed, devouring the old wood. A frantic rhythm danced in her chest, and smoke caused her eyes to tear.
"What do we do?" Panic caused her voice to break.
"Use your phone."
She was an idiot. Yael punched in the numbers for 9-1-1, but the call failed. "Son of a bitch. No service."
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"Check the windows!"
She obeyed as he disappeared into the hall, listening to him calling for help and beating on walls. With her phone in one hand, she managed to open a window, but it stuck halfway up, warped from years of paint and weather, and the jolt caused her to lose grip of the cell. It tumbled to the ground and shattered.
"Wonderful."
Leaning her head out, she scanned the empty side street and cursed the missing fire escape.
"Help! We're in here!" she cried at the top of her lungs.
Nothing.
Giving up on the window, she scurried towards Casey, hacking on the smoke and squinting against the sting. He appeared before her, hunched over.
"Get down." Snatching her wrist, he pulled her to the floor. "Any luck?"
"No. Figures, the one time you need to find someone, the street is empty."
"Still no signal?"
"No, I kind of dropped it."
He gawked at her. "Fire escape?"
"None."
"Damn, that's right. They're in the process of tearing it down because it was rusted through. A new one is being installed Monday."
"Perfect."
She saw a flash of Casey's white teeth through the smoke. "I love your positivity."
"Yeah, well, it's fading fast."
"I think our best bet is to run through the flames."
Yael snorted. "Sounds safe."
"There are no other options."
Fright took a firm hold of Yael, and she returned to the window, screaming at the top of her lungs. "Someone help us! Help!"
"That's not going to work."
As soon as the words left Casey's mouth, the mysterious footsteps returned, and a figure appeared in the doorway, his clothes singed, and his face darkened with soot. Regardless of his appearance, she knew exactly who it was.
"Dad?" Casey shouted.
"No one was supposed to be here." His father swayed, eyes bleary and unfocused.
Casey reached out and grabbed him. "What do you mean?"
"No one was up here."
Understanding dawned on Yael. He did this. He was responsible. She stormed forward, shoving a stunned Casey aside, and rage drew her hand back. The sting of her palm as it connected with Casey's father's cheek felt like a victory. "You son of a bitch."
"Yael!" Casey wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her away.
A crash jolted him from his stupor. "You two need to get out of here now!"
The roar of the fire intensified, and an ear-splitting bang sent sparks showering down around them. Casey looked out, and Yael knew it was bad when he retreated inside the apartment and slammed the door.
"We can't reach the stairs anymore," he confirmed before turning his attention to his dad. "Why?"
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"I wanted to show Malkah Enterprises they were vulnerable, able to hurt as much as the little guy, and it worked. They bled."
Casey took a handful of shirt and yanked Mr. Castañeda closer. "This isn't the first time?" he demanded, spit flying and teeth clenched.
"Don't you dare judge me, son." He flung Casey's hands aside, and his face flushed a deep red. "I did what I had to do."
"You sabotaged my company, and you put lives in danger."
"Your company?" Mr. Castañeda's eyes sparked with disbelief. "You had a business, a legacy, and you threw it away. For what? A thousand-dollar suit and a corporate noose?"
Casey's shoulders hunched. "Is it wrong to dream big? You taught me that. Besides, isn't dreaming big exactly what landed you in this mess you're in?"
"You think that was a dream? It was desperation to keep my head above water and provide for you and your mother. Do you think Columbia was cheap?"
"Don't." Casey inched up to his dad. "Do not put this on me or Mom."
"No one was supposed to be here," he repeated his statement from earlier.
"We're trapped, Dad!"
The force of Casey's words hit his father, and he flinched, eyes darting around wildly. "The window?"
"No good."
"I'll go for help." He pivoted, arm reaching for the door.
"No!"
Yael watched in horror as Casey's dad opened the door, and it flew inwards, flames rushing into the room and snatching Mr. Castañeda in their grip. The blast knocked Casey off his feet, and he landed hard on his back, his head bouncing on the wood. Tortured screams emitted from the fiery figure stumbling into the hall, but Yael blocked them out, scrambling to Casey's side.
"Casey!"
He didn't answer, and a sob clawed its way up her throat, causing her to cough intensely. The fire lapping at the open doorway inched closer, latching onto his pant leg and igniting.
"No, no, no," she shrieked, using her hands to pat out the flames, vaguely aware of the blisters erupting on her skin. As soon as she could, she moved around to his shoulders and shook his motionless body. "Get up, dammit."
She took hold of his arms and dragged him to the farthest bedroom of the apartment, ignoring the burning pain in her fingers. Between Casey's silence and the cracking of the wood around her as it heated, her sanity ripped apart. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cradled Casey's head in her lap.
"Wake up, wake up!" she cried repeatedly.
When she moved to wipe at her stinging eyes, she noticed blood on her fingertips, and her stomach rolled. The roof. They could get to her through the roof. She just had to stay alert, but already her eyes were growing heavy, her chest congested with soot. Yael kept seeing the image of Mr. Castañeda as the flames devoured him. Doubling over, she retched, heaving out the smoke. It didn't help. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't draw enough air into her lungs.
Gently laying Casey's head on the ground, she scrambled to the window and tried again to open it. It wouldn't budge. Frustrated, Yael slammed her palm against the glass and froze. Break it, a voice screamed at her, and she squeezed her hands into fists. It didn't work. No matter how hard she pounded on the glass, the only thing that broke was the skin of her knuckles.
The hammer!
She kissed Casey's temple, whimpering at the blood pooling under his head, and crawled on her belly to the front room, now wholly enflamed, to retrieve the hammer. Returning to the window, she ducked away as she swung the tool at the glass, flinching at the ache that erupted on her burned skin. Pressing her face to the sweet, fresh air rolling in, she shouted.
"Help! Help me! I'm in here!"
A figure rounded the corner, and Yael couldn't make out any details because of her puffy, swollen eyes.
"I can't get in!" the man called up to her. "Fire department is almost here."
Yael glanced at the interior wall of the room she was in, shaking her head at the flames licking at the sheetrock. "It'll be too late," she whispered.
The man continued to shout, but Yael retreated from the window. The fire was too close now. They didn't have much time. Outside, the far-off din of sirens barely penetrated the fog in her head. She worried it was too late for her and Casey. A coughing fit seized her, wracking her whole body, and she recited the only prayer she knew.
"Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change." Another round of sobs and choking hit her. "The courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference. And please, don't take Casey from this world. He is too good."
Bending, Yael placed her ear next to Casey's nose, relieved when she heard his labored breaths. At least he was alive, for now. Pressing her lips to his, she whispered, "I love you, Casey."
Her eyelids grew heavy, and she fought to keep them open. She had to stay awake, for Casey's sake. Using the bottom of her sundress, she held the material lightly over Casey's face, hoping it filtered the smoke.
The sirens sounded closer now, and she leaned her head against the wall, never taking her eyes from the far side of the room, expecting the fire to rip the wood apart at any moment.
"Hurry," she pleaded to the oncoming fire crew.
dundundun.
dont kill me.
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