“Just do it!”
For once, Slade took orders. Being shouted at and ordered about seemed to have rallied his brain cells, at least for the moment. He rummaged through a toolbox for a wrench, then headed toward the bathroom. While he was working, Ben gathered together some of the old clothes that had tumbled out of the closet.
“We’ll wet these down and wear them when we go through,” Ben explained.
Maureen seemed dazed and confused. “But we already have clothes-”
“We’ll want to have something to wrap around our heads and arms. Socks over our hands. Plus, stop me if I’m wrong, but isn’t your blouse some kind of nylon or polyester?”
Maureen glanced downward. “Yeah, I guess. Why?”
“Something I heard the coroner explain during the trial. Artificial fibers like nylon and polyester melt and burn more quickly. Cotton is more flame-retardant, especially when it’s wet. Even if it eventually burns, it won’t melt.”
“Then by all means.” Without a thought to modesty, Maureen ripped off her blouse and pulled on one of the red workshirts lying on the floor.
Ben bundled together some of the other clothes and together they headed toward the front door. As they passed the kitchen, Ben stopped short. “Wait a minute.”
“What is it?”
“I see something we can use.” He walked to the sink and retrieved a jumbo box of dishwashing soap.
They ran outside and, all at once, the heat was so intense Ben thought he would pass out on the spot. The smoke was blinding and choking, and the intense heat was so oppressive, so enervating, Ben felt as if he could barely move.
You have no choice, he told himself. You have to keep trying. You
They found Slade on the north side of the shack. “The hose was the wrong size, of course,” he explained. “So I’m using duct tape. And I found a spray gun and attached it to the end of the hose. That’ll give us some more pressure.”
“Very resourceful,” Ben said. He was glad to see the man’s brain was back in gear. He was probably the smartest of all of them.
Ben walked to the well, opened the cover, and poured in the entire contents of the box of soap.
“What’s the point of that?” Maureen asked.
“Soapy water,” Ben replied. “It’s a great fire quencher. It’s basically what professional firefighters use to put out fires. Since we don’t have any fire extinguishers on tap, this is the best we can hope for.” He distributed the extra cotton clothing to the others. “Now wrap this over every part of your body. Nothing should be exposed. Absolutely nothing.”
“But how will we see?” Maureen asked.
“We don’t have to see. We know where we’re going. Hurry!” The flames were still a dozen feet away, but the heat was so intense Ben felt as if he was already on fire. Once the clothes were wrapped around them, he gave Slade the signal. “Okay, let her rip.”
Slade lowered the pump handle and water began streaming out of the hose. After it ran for a few moments, they could see the consistency of the water changing. It was becoming cloudy, creamy-
Soapy water.
“It won’t last long,” Ben said. “We have to go now.” He took the hose from Slade and turned it on all three of them, drenching them from head to toe. “Now link arms.”
Slade did as he was instructed, but Maureen didn’t move. Her head was turned the other way, staring at the wall of flame.
“Maureen!” Ben shouted. “Take my hand!”
“I can’t,” she said. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. Tears streamed out of her eyes. “Those flames-it’s-it’s too horrible. I can’t!”
“You can,” Ben said firmly. “And you will.”
She shook her head sadly. She seemed spent, emptied, as if she had nothing left to give. “You go on without me.”
“We’re all going together.” He grabbed her arm and jerked her forward. The three of them linked arms, as if they were playing some adult version of ring-around-the-rosy. Ben draped cotton shirts over their heads, took his bearings, then pulled a shirt down over his own face. He wetted them all down again, then turned the soapy water toward the flames.
“We’re going to have to run,” Ben said, “and run together. If we’re in that for more than a few seconds, nothing will save us.”
“I can’t do it,” Maureen sobbed, her voice buried beneath the damp cotton. “I can’t.”
“You can and you will,” Ben said, tugging them toward the perimeter of the flames. “Here we go.”
Chapter 71
Ben fired the soapy water straight ahead of them and, with a sudden burst of speed, plunged into the flames. He forced the trio forward, racing at top speed, spraying everything that lay in his path.
Even though the flames were only a few feet thick, and they were only in the midst of the blaze for a heartbeat, it seemed like an eternity. The world went into slow motion, as suddenly Ben became aware of the all- consuming fire radiating all around him. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t even think about stopping because he knew if he did, it would be the end. They had to keep pressing through, not giving the fire a chance to catch. Even if Ben couldn’t see the flames, he could feel them, with every ounce of his being, on every inch of his skin. He was propelling himself forward on impulse power as one by one his bodily systems began to overheat.
The garden hose reached the end of its tether and jerked out of Ben’s hands. He didn’t stop-he couldn’t-but he felt the immediate impact. It was as if the oven had been turned on High and suddenly there were flames shooting up from beneath him, broiling him, burning him alive-
And then they were out. They had cleared the flames. They tumbled into a heap, collapsing onto the dirt, just outside the wall of fire.
Ben ripped the shirt off his head. Even though the heat was still intense, they were out of the fire. They had made it through. It had seemed impossible, but together, they had done it.
“
Ben whipped his head around. Slade was on fire. The shirt over his head had slipped, and the man’s sleeve had caught fire.
Ben jumped up and threw the shirt that had covered his own head around Slade’s arm. He wrapped it tightly around till the flames were snuffed.
“My God, that hurts!” Slade said. He was gritting his teeth, fighting back tears. “But we made it. By God, Kincaid-we
Ben crouched beside Maureen. Her eyes were closed and her face was bright red. “Are you-are you all right?” he asked.
Maureen didn’t answer, but she took Ben’s arm and pulled him close to her. Their lips met, and they fell into a deep and urgent kiss. It seemed to Ben as if he had been waiting a lifetime for this, waiting forever.
He rolled over on his back and lay for a moment, gasping for air. They should move away from the flames, away from the crippling heat, but that could surely wait at least another second or two. He didn’t realize until then how stressed, how dog-tired he was. Tired of thinking, tired of moving-tired of everything. All he wanted to do was rest. And wait.
Which is exactly what he did. Till he heard the familiar chopping sound of helicopter blades cutting through the superheated air outside. The wings of angels, Ben thought, as his smoke-baked eyelids closed. The wings of angels.
