Laura Cardinal - 01 - Darkness on the Edge of Town

Now.

Laura pushed off from her feet and launched herself toward Galaz, flat end of the knife handle jammed into her side to keep it steady, using her body as a projectile. Trying not to think that it could poke her own guts out.

Landing far short, crashing on her hands, her knees, her chin, her hand cut, the knife skittering harmlessly across the concrete.

Galaz spinning around, his face a mask of surprise.

The stink of gasoline everywhere.

“You actually think—“

Shock in his eyes as a gunshot exploded through the small space, the momentum spinning him around and flipping him backwards into the wall.

Head cracking—an awful sound. Holding his side, his mouth open and working.

In his hands, the lighter.

Manicured fingers flicking.

A rough male voice yelling, “Drop it! Do it now!”

Laura recognizing the voice, but not sure—

An incandescent moment when metal struck flint, ignition. Spark—a runnel of flame swirling up Galaz’s arm to his waxy face and up the walls.

The delight on his face turning to terror.

A blur beside her: Buddy Holland going to his daughter.

Laura thinking: Shackles.

Buddy from cop to father, his face twisted in terror as he ran to his daughter, pulled at her shackles, saying, “Keys keys keys!”

Frank Entwistle, peering down at her. “You okay?”

What do you think? But she didn’t say it.

“What about Mickey?” Entwistle asked.

“Mickey?” What about him?

Entwistle nodded toward the man lying in the doorway. “He had the key to your handcuffs, didn’t he?”

Then she remembered: Mickey bending down to check Summer’s shackles.

Suddenly, a loud whoosh! Galaz lit up like a burning straw man, sheets of flame spreading to the roof, the whole place getting darker, almost black. Boiling black smoke on a river of flame—

Concentrate! He had the key to your handcuffs, didn’t he?

“Mickey!” Laura shouted.

Buddy looking up, perspiration running down his face, glowing in the flickering light; his eyes like a wild horse’s.

Summer screaming.

Laura nodding at the man lying in the doorway.

Buddy, an acknowledging nod, then on the man like a jackal, coming up with a key ring, including three small ones—cuff keys. Buddy fumbling, Laura unable to move, Summer screaming screaming screaming—

Get out now, her brain told her,but she had no answer for that. The air buzzing at her mouth and nostrils like a swarm of bees, sparks lighting on her, in her hair, panic scrabbling like rats in the walls, the fear pure and hard and all-consuming.

I don’t want to die like this.

Even with the incredible noise of the flames, she heard the click of the lock to Summer’s shackles. Buddy cursing, praying, his breath hitching. Summer whimpering.

Laura, trying to remember where the doorway was because the air was now black except for the oily flames. Crawling, pushing her body to move.

Buddy running past her. She didn’t see him, but heard his boots on the glass, felt the wind of his passing, something soft passing across her face—the dress?

Fire feeding on oxygen. Blowing toward her—she could feel it on her feet, her back. Going toward the air? Or was that wrong? She couldn’t think. Maybe she was going in the wrong direction. Where was the doorway? I should have reached Mickey by now. Her throat clogging up, her chest seizing with the need to breathe—

Banging, loud voices.

“Police!”

People in the room. Noise, men, legs, guns, SWAT.

Eyes stinging. Harder to breathe. Gasping for air. She could be dead any moment. Grateful that she lay on her face away from the smoke, that they were here. They were here, they would get her out now.

Legs milling, but no one coming to her.