Jessica Conant-Park - Cook the Books

“What do you mean?” I asked as I hurried alongside him. Looking up at the three-story building, I saw nothing alarming. Still, there was no denying that the burning smell was growing stronger. I immediately flashed back to my malodorous trek through Digger’s apartment. The one odd thing about the building was the absence of lighted windows. The windows on the first two floors were understandably dark since the owners, who lived there, were away, but Ade and Owen’s third- floor apartment was dark, too. Owen was supposed to be at home conducting an online job search, so there should have been lights on, I reasoned; Owen wasn’t the kind of person who huddles over a computer in a darkened room. “This way,” I said to Josh as I started across the lawn toward the back of the building, where I expected to look up and see Owen hovering over a smoldering grill on the wooden fire escape-in other words, taking advantage of Ade’s absence to do exactly what she’d told him not to do. As for the stench, he’d probably run out of lighter fluid and was burning random items in an attempt to ignite the charcoal.

But I was wrong.

“Jesus Christ!” said Josh, panicked.

I looked up to the top of the fire escape. Like the windows visible from the front of the building, those at the back of the building were dark, but light from the house next door showed heavy smoke billowing from inside Ade and Owen’s apartment. Owen was nowhere in sight. “Owen!” I screamed. “Owen!”

Josh rushed forward and started to climb the fire escape. “Call nine-one-one!” he yelled.

I fumbled in my pocket for my cell as I ran to the front of the house, where the streetlights would let me see the buttons on the phone. Once I reached the sidewalk, I dialed 911 and, pressing the cell to my ear, ran up the front steps in the hope that Ade or Owen had for some reason left the door unlocked. No such luck. I had a key to their apartment, but it was on its own key ring at my condo. Why hadn’t I just attached it to my key ring? Owen had probably passed out from smoke inhalation and couldn’t hear Josh’s and my screams. I frantically shouted Ade and Owen’s address into the phone and, instead of listening to what the operator said, felt compelled to keep repeating the address at top volume, as if loudly reiterating the information would somehow speed the arrival of fire trucks. Too frightened to listen, I barely heard what the operator said but was left with the impression that help was, or would be, on the way. After again trying the front door and even banging on it and kicking it, I returned to the sidewalk just as Josh came around to the front of the building.

He shook his head. “I almost got up there, but there’s too much smoke.” He reeked of it. He had his jacket slung over one arm. I knew without asking that he’d taken it off and used it to cover his nose and mouth in an effort to penetrate the smoke. “You tried the front door?”

I nodded and shoved my key ring at him. “Run to my place and get their key. It’s on top of the TV. Go!”

Josh took off running while I continued screaming for Owen.

Suddenly there was someone standing next to me. “I had no idea you were so desperate to see me, Chloe.”

“Owen!” I cried and threw my arms around him. He was perfectly safe and not lying on his apartment floor dying! “Thank God!”

“What’s all the fuss? And what the hell is that nasty smell?”

“Your apartment is on fire! Thank God you’re safe! I thought you were up there. Josh tried to get in the back way, but he couldn’t. I’m just glad no one is home.” I let out a massive sigh of relief.

Owen’s face grew rigid. “Ade and Patrick are in there!” He flew to the front door and patted down his pockets. “I don’t have my key! I don’t have my key!” He jerked the doorknob back and forth and kicked the door repeatedly, but the old, heavy door didn’t budge. “Adrianna!” he started screaming. “Her group got cancelled. She’s probably in bed sleeping. Oh God!”

“Josh is getting my key right now. I called nine-one-one.” I felt sick and panicked. My best friend and my godson were trapped inside, burning to death! As Owen continued to pound on the door, I looked around frantically. I couldn’t just stand here and wait for the fire trucks. I had to do something! There were no ladders lying around, but maybe someone had left a garden hose out back. By this time of year, hoses should’ve been put away for the winter, but I was still going to look. I flew into the backyard again and, in the light from the next house, searched the foundation for a water spigot. I found it. But there was no hose. Shit! Shit! I glanced up to the third floor and choked on a sob. The smoke was getting heavier.

Without thinking, I ran to the fire escape and started up the stairs, tripping several times. My legs were shaking so violently that I could barely put one foot in front of the other without catching the toe of my boot on a stair. “Adrianna!” I cried out through my tears. Pausing on the second-floor landing, I called her name more forcibly. I had to make her hear me! I had to! I caught sight of the first visible flame as it shot from the living room window. “No!” I screamed. “No! Adrianna! Adrianna!”

Like my condo building, this house was wooden-a tinderbox. That first flame would spread in no time. I cursed the wooden fire escape, which was as vulnerable to fire as the building itself. I’d have to descend almost immediately. Still, I continued screaming for my friend and praying that Josh would return or that the fire trucks would arrive. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since I’d called, but it felt like an eternity.

Owen’s small grilling area above me was rapidly disintegrating as the fire began to grow. When a burning piece of wood dropped next to me, I kicked it off the landing, threw my arms over my head, and screamed with everything that I had in me. “Adrianna!”

“Chloe!” The male voice came from below.

I glanced down. Even in my petrified state, I was stunned. “Kyle? What-?”

My cookbook partner stood at the base of the fire escape. “Chloe, what are you doing? Get down! Get off there now!” He took a step onto the wooden stairs.

“Get away from me!” I hollered as I moved up to the next step. “You did this! You started this fire, didn’t you?” I yanked my arms out of my coat and threw it over my head in the hope of protecting myself from any more falling debris. Kyle scrambled higher until he was only a few steps away. I couldn’t go up any farther. “Josh!” I screamed. “Owen! Help me! Help me!”

“Chloe, you have to get down from there!” Kyle begged.

“Don’t get any closer to me, you psycho!” I swung my leg out as a warning. “Ade and Patrick are in there!”

“What? No! No!” He froze and stared at me, his head shaking back and forth. “Adrianna!”

Kyle lunged past me, knocking me to the side. I grabbed the railing and caught myself just before I toppled down the stairs. Frightened of Kyle and knowing that I was unable to save Adrianna and Patrick, I made my way downward. As I descended, the wail of sirens finally began to fill the air. Reaching the ground, I backed up and watched as Kyle reached the stairs to the third floor, the stairs that led to Ade and Owen’s landing. He coughed over and over as smoke swirled around him, and then he suddenly leaped the stairs, two at a time, to reach what was left of the landing and the back door.

“Kyle!” I yelled uselessly.

He blindly shot an arm forward to touch the door and screamed in pain, fell backward, and hit the railing behind him. Within a fraction of a second, the railing, none too sturdy to begin with, gave way, and Kyle plummeted three stories down and hit the ground. Feeling sick and sickeningly overwhelmed, I turned away.