They ran, the two of them, up Augusta, leaving Mimi behind, wrapped in her blanket. They could smell the smoke as soon as they crossed Kensington, and they could see the flames licking out of the dark black clouds just a moment later.The smell was terrible, a roiling chemical reek that burned the skin and the lungs and the eyes. All those electronics, crisping and curling and blackening.“Is he in there?” Alan said.“Yes,” Barry said. “Trapped.”“Call the fire department,” Andrew said, and ran for the door, fishing in his pocket for his keys. “Call 911.”He got the door open and left his keys in the lock, pulling his shirt up over his head. He managed a step into the building, two steps, and the heat beat him back.He sucked up air and ran for it again.The heat was incredible, searing. He snorted half a breath and felt the hair inside his nostrils scorch and curl and the burning was nearly intolerable. He dropped down on all fours and tried to peer under the smoke, tried to locate Kurt, but he couldn’t find him.Alan crawled to the back of the store, to Kurt’s den, sure that his friend would have been back there, worn out from a night’s dumpster diving. He took a false turn and found himself up against the refrigerator. The little piece of linoleum that denoted Kurt’s kitchen was hot and soft under his hands, melting and scorching. He reoriented himself, spinning around slowly, and crawled again.Tears were streaming freely down his face, and between them and the smoke, he could barely see. He drew closer to the shop’s rear, nearly there, and then he was there, looking for Kurt.He found him, leaned up against the emergency door at the back of the shop, fingers jammed into the sliver of a gap between the door’s bottom and the ground. Alan tried the door’s pushbar, but there was something blocking the door from the other side.He tried slapping Kurt a couple times, but he would not be roused. His breath came in tiny puffs. Alan took his hand, then the other hand, and hoisted his head and neck and shoulders up onto his back and began to crawl for the front door, going as fast as he could in the blaze.He got lost again, and the floor was hot enough to raise blisters. When he emerged with Kurt, he heard the sirens. He breathed hard in the night air.As he watched, two fire trucks cleared the corner, going the wrong way down one-way Augusta, speeding toward him. He looked at Billy.“What?”“Is Kurt all right?”“Sure, he’s fine.” He thought a moment. “The ambulance man will want to talk with him, he said. “And the TV people, soon.“Let’s get out of here,” Brad said.“All right,” he said. “Now you’re talking.”Though it was only three or four blocks back to Adam’s place, it took the better part of half an hour, relying on the back alleys and the dark to cover his retreat, hoping that the ambulance drivers and firefighters wouldn’t catch him here. Having to lug Kurt made him especially suspect, and he didn’t have a single good explanation for being caught toting around an unconscious punk in the dead of night.“Come on, Brent,” Adam said. “Let’s get home and put this one to bed and you and me have a nice chat.”“You don’t want me to call an ambulance?”Kurt startled at this and his head lolled back, one eye opened a crack.“No,” Alan said. “No ambulances. No cops. No firemen. Just me and him. I’ll make him better,” he said.The smoke smell was terrible and pervaded everything, no matter which direction the wind blew from.Adam was nearly home when he realized that his place and his lover and everything he cared about in the entire world werealsoon fire, which couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.
They ran, the two of them, up Augusta, leaving Mimi behind, wrapped in her blanket. They could smell the smoke as soon as they crossed Kensington, and they could see the flames licking out of the dark black clouds just a moment later.
The smell was terrible, a roiling chemical reek that burned the skin and the lungs and the eyes. All those electronics, crisping and curling and blackening.
“Is he in there?” Alan said.
“Yes,” Barry said. “Trapped.”
“Call the fire department,” Andrew said, and ran for the door, fishing in his pocket for his keys. “Call 911.”
He got the door open and left his keys in the lock, pulling his shirt up over his head. He managed a step into the building, two steps, and the heat beat him back.
He sucked up air and ran for it again.
The heat was incredible, searing. He snorted half a breath and felt the hair inside his nostrils scorch and curl and the burning was nearly intolerable. He dropped down on all fours and tried to peer under the smoke, tried to locate Kurt, but he couldn’t find him.
Alan crawled to the back of the store, to Kurt’s den, sure that his friend would have been back there, worn out from a night’s dumpster diving. He took a false turn and found himself up against the refrigerator. The little piece of linoleum that denoted Kurt’s kitchen was hot and soft under his hands, melting and scorching. He reoriented himself, spinning around slowly, and crawled again.
Tears were streaming freely down his face, and between them and the smoke, he could barely see. He drew closer to the shop’s rear, nearly there, and then he was there, looking for Kurt.
He found him, leaned up against the emergency door at the back of the shop, fingers jammed into the sliver of a gap between the door’s bottom and the ground. Alan tried the door’s pushbar, but there was something blocking the door from the other side.
He tried slapping Kurt a couple times, but he would not be roused. His breath came in tiny puffs. Alan took his hand, then the other hand, and hoisted his head and neck and shoulders up onto his back and began to crawl for the front door, going as fast as he could in the blaze.
He got lost again, and the floor was hot enough to raise blisters. When he emerged with Kurt, he heard the sirens. He breathed hard in the night air.
As he watched, two fire trucks cleared the corner, going the wrong way down one-way Augusta, speeding toward him. He looked at Billy.
“What?”
“Is Kurt all right?”
“Sure, he’s fine.” He thought a moment. “The ambulance man will want to talk with him, he said. “And the TV people, soon.
“Let’s get out of here,” Brad said.
“All right,” he said. “Now you’re talking.”
Though it was only three or four blocks back to Adam’s place, it took the better part of half an hour, relying on the back alleys and the dark to cover his retreat, hoping that the ambulance drivers and firefighters wouldn’t catch him here. Having to lug Kurt made him especially suspect, and he didn’t have a single good explanation for being caught toting around an unconscious punk in the dead of night.
“Come on, Brent,” Adam said. “Let’s get home and put this one to bed and you and me have a nice chat.”
“You don’t want me to call an ambulance?”
Kurt startled at this and his head lolled back, one eye opened a crack.
“No,” Alan said. “No ambulances. No cops. No firemen. Just me and him. I’ll make him better,” he said.
The smoke smell was terrible and pervaded everything, no matter which direction the wind blew from.
Adam was nearly home when he realized that his place and his lover and everything he cared about in the entire world werealsoon fire, which couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.