William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

“We’re going to be cooked,” Slade pronounced.

“I won’t accept that,” Ben said. “Even if the interference prevents us from hearing them, they might hear us. They could be on the way.”

“Wouldn’t matter if they were.” Slade glanced toward the window, forcing Ben to follow his gaze.

The heat radiating through the closed window was so intense Ben had to take several steps back. His vision blurred; wavy lines of heat made the image before him seem to shimmer and float. But that didn’t prevent him from seeing what was happening outside.

The fire had come closer-much, much closer. The perimeter of the flames was barely twenty feet from the shack. Maybe closer.

“We don’t have time for a rescue,” Slade said, his voice in his throat. “We don’t have ten minutes.”

“That’s it, then,” Maureen said. Her head fell into her arms, knocking aside the radio microphone. “It’s really going to happen. We’re going to burn to death.”

“Trapped like flies,” Slade said. “Pigs penned for the slaughter.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Ben shouted.

“Don’t be a baby, Kincaid.” Slade crumpled into a heap on the floor. “It’s over. There’s no way out.”

“There’s always a way. You can’t just give up.”

“Then you tell me, Kincaid. What should we do?”

Ben shielded his eyes and stared out into the raging inferno. There had to be a way-that’s what Christina would say, if she were here. But Christina was always able to think of the solution, the way out. He wasn’t coming up with anything.

“We can’t go over the flames,” Ben said, thinking aloud, “and we can’t go under them.”

“Then we’re cooked,” Slade said.

“No,” Ben answered. “We have to go through them.”

“Through them?” Slade said. “Are you kidding? I told you already, we’ll be burned alive!”

“We’ll be burned alive if we just sit here, that’s for damn sure.” Ben grabbed Slade’s collar and yanked him up onto his feet. “I saw a well outside. Does it work?”

“I-suppose-”

“Good. We’ll wet ourselves down before we go. Have you got a garden hose?”

“I-think so. In the back. But-”

“Good. Where does the well water come in?”

“There’s a pump on the north side of the shack. Connects to the plumbing in the bathroom.”

“Can you disconnect the pipe?”

“I suppose, but-”

“Good, do it. Then connect the hose to the water line.”

Slade stared at him incredulously. “Surely you don’t think you’re going to put that fire out with a garden hose!”

“We don’t have to put the whole fire out. We just have to make a path.”

“That won’t-”

“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 have to keep trying.

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.”

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.