He’d been careful to seem less than bright to these men, though he didn’t push the act very hard when Gil himself was around. Gil knew him too well to fall for it. But the rest of these men, though vicious and meaner than snakes, were not really all that observant. They accepted his behavior at face value. Excellent, for his purposes.
Once in the kitchen, he worked fast. Some of the prep he’d done earlier, after his dinnertime ‘chores.’ He was tasked with loading and unloading the dishwasher after meals. Earlier, he’d pried open a gas lighter that he’d found in the back of a drawer, the one used to light the pilots on the burners, and left it in a cupboard, wedged upright, ready for action. Now he splashed some of the lighter fluid into the toaster, and drizzled what was left onto the bottom of the kitchen curtains.
He shifted the toaster to the edge of the sink, positioning the curtain directly over it, and then grabbed a few paper towels. Shoved them into the toaster as well, making sure they stuck well out the top.
He pushed down the toaster, and prayed. Oh please, God. Please.
Then he pulled the wooden rolling pin out of the drawer, the one with the reindeer carvings that Lu had used for the Christmas cookies. Seconds ticked by.
Suddenly, whoosh. Flames licked the bottom of the curtain, catching onto the accelerant. The cloth began to smoke, and blacken—and then it caught fire.
The flames ate up the fabric. Then the smoke alarm started to squeal.
Josh let out a terrified howl at the same time. “Fire!” he shrieked.
“Oh fucking fuck!” Ray bellowed, lunging for the kitchen.
Josh backed away from the flames, still holding the rolling pin. The flames licked the ceiling. Belker and Ray were bellowing in the kitchen, trying to deal with the fire extinguisher.
Josh left them to it, and bolted for the utility closet at the end of the corridor.
Inside it was the electrical panel. He dragged the on-off lever down to “off.”
Pitch darkness now. Just the crackling red glow from the kitchen, the bellowing of the two men fighting the fire, the acrid stink of smoke.
Josh swung the rolling pin up at the panel with all his strength and bashed at the spot he’d just memorized. Again. Again. Again. He reached up and felt the panel, running his hand over it. The on-off switch was gone, the panel scarred and dented.
That would slow them down. Who knew how long.
Gunshots. Fuck. It had started. Lu said to move fast and keep low. Get to the cast iron bathtub if he could. With the house on fucking fire? He’d end up roasted.
He opened the closet door, trying not to cough, and stumbled through the billowing smoke down the corridor toward the bathroom.
Something huge hit him in the back, smacking him to the ground face first.
His jaw clacked together. He bit his tongue and tasted blood. Tried to breathe, couldn’t. His wind was gone. He was pinned. There was an elephant on top of him.
Then the huge weight shifted, and he felt a heavy hand across his windpipe. Slowly squeezing it. And the pressure of a gun barrel, burning his scalp.
“You lying sack of shit.” Belker’s gravelly rasp. “You did this. And I’m going to make you pay. I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”
21
Gunshots rang from the kitchen. Nate crawled down the corridor toward the foot of the stairs, choking on smoke. Mace darted out of the kitchen.
“Status?” Nate coughed out.
“Two hostiles down,” Mace said. “One unaccounted for. Fire is out of control. We have to get the kid and get the fuck out of here fast.”
Mace gestured for Nate to continue down the corridor, and darted upstairs before Nate could call him back. He didn’t want Mace trapped up there.
A swift glance into the living room showed it empty. He was lucky for the infrared goggles. With the power out, the only light source was the fire raging from the kitchen. He sidled along on the walls toward the bathroom, flattened against the wall. He reached for the knob, stretching his arm out, pulling the handle down.
Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam.
Fuck. Nate jerked back. The bullets had punched through the bathroom door.
A second of silence followed by a guttural howl, then sounds of a scuffle. He could barely hear it with his gunshot-deafened ears. Screaming, shouting, thumping.
Nate opened the door. Two men writhed on the floor. A big one was on top. Crew cut, thick neck. Not-Josh. The top guy turned, eyes wide and blind in the darkness, gun whipping up—
Bam. Nate put a bullet through his forehead.
The gun fell from the dead man’s grip. He collapsed on top of Josh.
Nate sank down to his knees. “Josh? Is that you? Are you okay?”
“I’m Josh.” The kid’s voice was raspy and thin. “Who are you?”
“I’m Nate,” he said.
“Could you help me shove this guy off of me? I think my arm is broken. I can’t seem to do it with just one.”
Nate heaved the body off the younger man. Josh hissed in pain as Nate carefully helped him sit up. Josh sat in a spreading puddle of hot blood from the other man’s head. He felt it with his hand, and flinched away in revulsion.
“He won’t hurt you again,” Nate told him. “He’s gone now.”
Josh let out a sobbing breath. His face streamed with blood from his nose.
“Okay,” he said shakily, nodding. “Okay, then.”
Nate noticed the thin piece of wood poking out of the meat of the dead guy’s fleshy thigh.
“Did you stick that spike into him?” he asked.
“Yeah, when he shot at the door,” Josh said wearily. “It’s a chopstick. They hid all the knives and tools, so I sharpened a chopstick. I kept it in my sock.”
The smoke was thicker now, and Mace appeared at the door, his hand over his mouth, coughing. “Move,” he gasped out. “This house is fucked.”
Between the two of them, they hoisted the swaying, staggering Josh to his feet.
“His arm’s broken,” Nate said. “I got him.” He hoisted Josh up into his arms. It wasn’t difficult. The kid had wasted away to skin and bone.
“Now, or we’re toast!” Jim Wong bawled from out in the corridor.
The fire had devoured half the house. There was no way out through the front door. They ran through the smoke of the living room. Jim shot out the window, and they clambered out the big window frame onto the patio. Their boots crunched on the broken glass, which quickly gave way to fresh snow.
Josh stared up at the dark sky, his big, hollow eyes huge with wonder. The fire behind them crackled and roared. Hot wind, mixing with the smell of outside.
“I can’t believe it,” he croaked. “I feel snow on my face. I can smell the wind.”
Nate didn’t have the breath to answer, not running through the woods while carrying someone, and besides, Josh’s teeth were chattering. He could go into shock.
They reached the car, and he wrapped Josh in a blanket and cranked the heat up to full blast. The kid looked terrible, still drenched in the big guy’s blood, his wan, ashen face daubed with plenty of his own, lips a grayish blue, eyes hollow. But his gaze was clear. And he was smiling.
“Thank you,” he said, looking at Mace and Wong. “Whoever you are. I owe you. For the rest of my life.”