Chapter 2

I yanked at the window. It was painted shut.

Cursing, I looked around. The bedside lamp. Heavy base.

I smashed it against the stubborn edge of the window frame. Wood splintered.

Again. The frame cracked.

One more hard hit, and the sash gave way with a groan. I shoved it up.

Cold air hit my face.

The trellis looked flimsy, but it was my only way.

I swung a leg out, found a foothold. The wood creaked ominously.

My hands gripped the dry, rough vines. Splinters dug into my palms.

Down. Don't look down.

My feet found the cross-sections of the trellis. Slowly, carefully.

A piece snapped under my foot. I lurched, my heart leaping into my throat.

My fingers tightened, scraping against the brick wall.

I regained my balance, took a breath.

Finally, my feet touched the soft grass of the backyard.

I didn't waste a moment. I ran to the garage, grabbed my keys.

The engine roared to life. I backed out, tires screeching on the driveway.

Willow Creek Apartments. I had to get there.

My phone. I fumbled for it, dialed Ashley.

Voicemail. "Hey, it's Ashley! Leave a message, or don't. I' m probably busy having fun!"

Busy. Right.

I tried again. Voicemail.

She' d turned her phone off, or was ignoring me.

The drive was a blur of traffic lights and frustrated honking. My honking.

Every red light felt like an eternity.

My mind raced. Last time, the fire started in the late afternoon. Kids playing with fireworks they' d bought from a shady corner store.

It was still morning. Barely 10 AM.

Was the timeline different? Would it be earlier? Worse?

The thought chilled me more than the November air whipping through the car' s vents.

As I got closer to Willow Creek, a knot of dread tightened in my stomach.

Then I saw it.

Not just a wisp of smoke. A thick, black plume, coiling into the clear blue sky.

From the direction of the apartments.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no."

It was happening. And it looked bad. Much worse than I remembered.

I floored the accelerator, weaving through traffic.

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder.

I reached the street. It was chaos.

Fire trucks, police cars, ambulances. Hoses snaking across the road.

People were crowded on the sidewalks, faces turned upwards, watching in horror.

The smoke was pouring from the middle section of the tall building.

Around the 14th, 15th floor.

Their floor.

I abandoned the car, half on the curb, and ran.

"My parents!" I yelled at a firefighter struggling with a hose. "My in-laws! Floor 15!"

He barely glanced at me. "Sir, stay back! We' re handling it!"

Handling it? The fire was raging.

I pushed past a police barricade. An officer grabbed my arm.

"Hey! You can' t go in there!"

"My family is in there! The Millers! Apartment 15B!"

"We have teams going in, sir. Please, for your own safety."

I wrenched my arm free. I had to get closer.

I saw the main entrance. Firefighters were rushing in and out.

Mrs. Miller. Her Alzheimer's. She' d be confused, scared. She couldn' t move well on her own. Mr. Miller wouldn' t leave her.

They were trapped.

I scanned the faces of the firefighters. Was David here? Ashley' s cousin. He worked at this station.

Then I saw him, near an engine, pulling on his helmet.

"David!" I screamed, running towards him.

He turned, saw me. His face registered surprise, then concern.

"Ethan? What are you doing here? Is Ashley with you?"

"No! It' s your aunt and uncle! They' re still up there! 15B!" My voice was raw.

"What? Are you sure?" He frowned. "Ashley didn't say anything about them being home."

"She doesn't know! Or she lied! David, they' re there! You have to get them!"

He looked torn. "Okay, okay, calm down. We' re sending teams up. I' ll make sure they check 15B."

He put a hand on my shoulder. "Stay here, Ethan. It' s dangerous."

He turned to go, then hesitated. "Let me just try Ashley quickly."

He pulled out his radio.