Duncan knew he had to crawl to her, pull the gun away. She was an adult, but she was always talking about how her bones were old and brittle, how her muscles were getting shriveled up. Duncan always had to open jars for her, and he even beat her at arm wrestling once last year.
But he couldn’t move. His legs and arms felt stuck to the floor.
His muscles didn’t obey.
Then, like a slap, he heard the sound of the shotgun being racked.
Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, as tight as they could be squeezed, and waited. He didn’t want to see it coming.
“DUNCAN! CAN YOU HEAR ME!”
Mom sounded close, almost like she was in the room. Magically, he could move again. Duncan got to his feet. Mom’s voice seemed to be coming from the left, but the only thing there was a shelf stacked with supplies, and many of those supplies were on fire.
“DUNCAN!”
Duncan picked up the big box of toilet paper that had fallen down, and used that to knock the burning supplies off the shelf. There, on the wall, was some sort of vent.
“MOM!”
Duncan yelled with everything he had. Then he climbed up onto the metal shelf and stuck his hands in the vent grating.
“Duncan! Are you okay!”
“You have to get me and Woof out of here, Mom!” He lowered his voice. “Mrs. Teller is trying to kill us.”
Mom didn’t answer right away, but he thought he heard her sob.
“Duncan? It’s Josh. Are you small enough to fit into the duct?”
Duncan squinted through the grating. Inside it was square, and not very large. But he could probably squeeze in there.
“I think so! But there’s a metal vent in the way!”
“Can you pull the vent off?”
Duncan locked his fingers and tugged. The vent didn’t move.
“It’s on too tight.”
“DUNCAN!” Mrs. Teller yelled.
He turned and looked behind him. She stood there, holding the shotgun. Fire stretched to the ceiling behind her. Duncan couldn’t see the expression on her face, but she looked very angry. He tore his eyes away and searched the floor, looking for …
“Woof!”
The beagle went straight for Mrs. Teller’s calf, biting hard and causing her to fall over. The shotgun fell from her hands, and she tried to push and kick the dog away. Woof dodged her blows and kept up the attack.
This time Duncan didn’t hesitate. He hopped off the shelf and hurried to the shotgun. It lay there like a rattlesnake. Duncan forced himself to pick it up, surprised by its weight—it was heavier than it looked.
“Duncan!” Josh’s voice, through the vent.
Duncan walked back to the shelf. He put his finger on the trigger and tried to hold the gun like Mrs. Teller did, with the butt against his shoulder. He couldn’t; the gun was too long. So he held the gun at his side, at waist level, with the stock extended out behind his armpit. Then he aimed at the vent.
The BOOM shook his whole body, and the shotgun jumped out of his hands and went skidding backward across the floor. Duncan didn’t look to see where it went. He focused on the duct.
The grating was gone. He’d shot it off.
Duncan ran to the shelf, climbed up, stuck his head into the hole. Yes, he’d be able to fit. Barely. But the duct went up on a slant that was too steep—he couldn’t crawl up.
“Duncan!”
“I’m here, Josh! I shot the cover off.” He felt absurdly proud of himself when he said that.
“Can you get inside?”
“Yeah. But I don’t think I can crawl up. It’s too high.”
“I’ll look for some rope! Hang in there, Duncan!”
Duncan wiped the sweat off of his forehead. It had gotten even hotter. The wall on either side of him was burning, the flames coming closer.
Mom said, “What’s Mrs. Teller doing?”
Duncan turned and squinted at her. She was on the floor, still fighting with his dog.
“Woof’s attacking her, Mom! Woof! Come!”
Woof barked to Duncan and then trotted over, his tongue hanging out. He looked pleased.
“Up, Woof! Up!”
Woof leapt up onto the shelf, and Duncan hugged his dog tight. The beagle licked his face, then slobbered all over his ear.
“Mom’s going to save us, Woof. We have to go in that vent. Don’t be scared.”
Woof wasn’t scared at all. Upon noticing the duct, he stuck his head inside and barked. Duncan petted Woof’s butt and told him he was a good boy. Then he chanced another look over his shoulder.
Mrs. Teller was gone.
“Duncan!” Josh talking. “We’re sending down a hose. Wrap it under your arms and tie it around your chest.”
The hose made a lot of noise coming down, banging against the aluminum walls of the duct. Woof barked and bit the end when it appeared. Duncan told the dog to sit and tugged the hose out until there was enough to make a knot. Then he paused. If he went up the hole, how would Woof get out?
“You gotta go first, buddy.”
Duncan patted the dog’s head, then wrapped the hose around Woof’s body. He tied it tight enough to make the beagle yip.
“Mom! Josh! Pull Woof up!”
“No! Duncan, you come up right now!”
“Woof’s going first!”
Duncan listened to Mom and Josh argue, and then Woof got tugged into the hole. He tried to spread out his paws and pull back, ears flat against his skull, but he was jerked right up the vent.
“Duncan …”
It was Mrs. Teller. She was right behind him.
Duncan didn’t waste time. He scrambled into the duct after his dog, forcing himself up as far as he could go. The fit was tight. Really tight. And the smoke rose up beneath him, making it a lot harder to breathe, because there were no pockets of good air.
Overhead, the duct clanged, and the hose came down again.
“Wrap it around you, Duncan!”
Duncan’s arms were up over his head, so he could grab the hose but had no way to pull it around his waist; he couldn’t lower his hands. Instead he held it tight.
“Okay!” he yelled.
Josh pulled so hard on the hose it got ripped from his grasp.
“Duncan!”
“I can’t tie it on!” Duncan coughed. “Pull slower!”
Again the hose came down. Duncan became aware of how hot it was getting in the vent. He felt sleepy. He wanted to close his eyes, even though he knew that was a bad idea.
“Duncan!” Mom, yelling. “Grab the hose!”
Duncan managed to get a hand on it. Josh lifted slower this time, and Duncan held on. But after going up only a little ways he felt like he was being stretched in half.
