Nicholas Sparks - Safe Haven

The coolers along the back wall were still illuminated and he walked the aisles, wondering idly if Cheerios would burn, if Twinkies would burn. DVDs. He located the charcoal and the lighter fluid — only two cans, not much. Not enough. He blinked, looking around for something else. He spotted the grill in the rear of the store.

Natural gas. Propane.

He approached the grill area, lifted the divider, and stood facing the grill itself. He turned a burner on, then another. There had to be a valve somewhere, but he didn’t know where to find it and he didn’t have time because someone might be coming and Coffey and Ramirez were talking about him, laughing and asking whether he’d had the crab cakes in Provincetown.

Roger’s apron hung on a rack and he tossed it onto the flame. He opened the can of lighter fluid he was holding and sprayed it on the walls of the grill. The can was slippery with blood and he wondered where the blood had come from. He hopped up onto the counter and squirted some lighter fluid on the ceiling and got down again. He ran a trail of fluid along the front of the store, noticing that the apron had begun to burn in earnest. He emptied the can and tossed it aside. Opening the second can, he squirted more fluid at the ceiling. The flames from the apron began leaping toward the walls and the ceiling. He went to the register and searched for a lighter and found a bunch of them in a plastic bin, near the cigarettes. He squirted lighter fluid on the register and on the little table behind him. The can was empty now, too, and he stumbled toward the window he’d broken earlier. He climbed out, stepping on broken glass, hearing it crack and pop. Standing by the side of the house, he flicked the lighter and held it against the gas-soaked wall, watching as the wood caught fire. At the back of the house, he touched the flame to the stairs and the flames rose quickly, shooting up to the door and spreading to the roof. Next came the far side.

Fire blossomed everywhere, the exterior rippling with flame, and Erin was a sinner and her lover was a sinner and the Bible says They will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction.

He stood back, watching the fire start to consume the building, wiping his face, leaving trails of blood. In the glowing orange light, he looked like a monster.

In her dream, Jo wasn’t smiling as she sat beside Katie on the Ferris wheel. She seemed to be searching the crowd below, a frown of concentration on her face.

There, she said, pointing. Over there. Do you see him?

What are you doing here? Where’s Kristen?

She’s sleeping. But you have to remember, now.

Katie looked but there were so many people, so much movement. Where? she asked. I don’t see anything.

He’s here, Jo said.

Who?

You know.

In her dream, the Ferris wheel lurched to a stop. The sound was loud, like the shattering of glass, and it seemed to signal a change. The carnival’s colors began to fade, the scene below dissolving into cloud banks that hadn’t been there a moment before. As if the world were slowly being erased, and then everything suddenly dimmed. She was surrounded by impenetrable darkness, broken only by an odd flickering at the periphery of her vision, and the sound of someone talking.

Katie heard Jo’s voice again, almost a whisper.

Can you smell it?

Katie sniffed, still lost in the haze. Her eyes fluttered open, stinging for some reason as she tried to clear her sight. The television was still on and she realized she must have fallen asleep. The dream was already fading away but she heard Jo’s words clearly in her head.

Can you smell it?

Katie took a deep breath as she pushed herself to a sitting position and immediately started coughing. It took only an instant to realize that the room was filled with smoke. She bolted off the couch.

Smoke meant fire, and now she could see the flames outside the window, dancing and twisting orange. The door was on fire, smoke billowing from the kitchen in thick clouds. She heard roaring, a sound like a train, heard cracks and pops and splintering, her mind taking it in at once.

Oh, my God. The kids .

She ran toward the hallway, panicked at the sight of heavy smoke billowing from both rooms. Josh’s room was closest and she rushed in, waving her arms against the stinging black fog.

She reached the bed and grabbed Josh’s arm, dragging him up.

“Josh! Get up! The house is on fire! We’ve got to get out!”

He was about to whine, but she pulled him up, cutting him off. “C’mon!” she screamed. He immediately began to cough, doubled over as she dragged him out. The hallway was an impenetrable wall of smoke, but she rushed forward nonetheless, pulling Josh behind her. Groping, she found the doorjamb to Kristen’s room across the hall.

It wasn’t as bad as Josh’s room, but she could feel the enormous heat building behind them. Josh continued to cough and wail, struggling to keep up, and she knew better than to let go. She raced to Kristen’s bedside and shook her, pulling her out of bed with her other hand.

The roaring of the fire was so loud, she could barely hear the sound of her own voice. Half-carrying, half-dragging the kids back out into the hallway, she saw an orange glow, barely visible through the smoke, where the entrance to the hallway was. The wall crawled with fire, flames on the ceiling, moving toward them. She didn’t have time to think, only had time to react. She turned and pushed the kids back down the hallway toward the master bedroom, where the smoke was less thick.

She rushed into the room, flicking on the light. Still working. Alex’s bed stood against one wall, a chest of drawers against another. Straight ahead was a rocking chair and windows, thankfully untouched as yet by fire. She slammed the door behind her.

Racked by coughing spasms, she stumbled forward, dragging Josh and Kristen. Both of them were wailing between hoarse bouts of coughing. She tried to free herself to raise the bedroom window, but Kristen and Josh clung to her.

“I need to open the window!” she screamed, shaking herself free. “This is the only way out!” In their panic, they didn’t understand, but Katie didn’t have time to explain. Frantically, she tore at the old-fashioned window lock and tried to heave the heavy pane up. It wouldn’t budge. Peering closer, Katie realized that the frame had been painted shut, probably years ago. She didn’t know what to do, but the sight of the two children staring at her in terror cleared her head. She looked around, frantic, finally seizing the rocking chair.

It was heavy, but somehow she lifted it above her shoulder and heaved it at the window with all her might. It cracked but didn’t break. She tried again, sobbing through a last burst of adrenaline and fear, and this time the rocking chair went flying out, crashing onto the overhang below. Moving fast, Katie raced to the bed and tore off the comforter. She bundled it around Josh and Kristen and began pushing them toward the window.

There was a loud splintering sound behind her as part of the wall burst into flame, tendrils licking the ceiling. Katie turned in panic, pausing long enough to notice the portrait that hung on the wall. She stared at it, already knowing it was of Alex’s wife, because there was no one else it could be. She blinked, thinking it was an illusion, a distortion created by the smoke and fear. She took an involuntary step toward the eerily familiar face when she heard a roar above her as the ceiling started to give way.

Whirling around, she pushed through the window, holding the kids in the circle of her arms and praying that the comforter would protect them from glass shards. They seemed to hang in the air for an eternity, Katie twisting as they fell so that the kids would land on top of her. She hit the overhang on her back with a whump. It wasn’t far, maybe four or five feet, but the impact left her breathless before pain rolled over her in waves.