William Bernhardt - Perfect Justice

“I’m sorry,” Ben replied, “but we don’t have time for this. We have to get out of here!”

“We can’t just let those poor dogs burn to death!”

Ben swore silently. “There’s a control panel near the front entrance. I saw it when I was here before. It electronically controls the kennel doors.”

“Show me.”

Ben and Christina ran back to the front entrance. In the space of perhaps a minute, the flames had grown twice as large. Even standing ten feet away, the heat was so searing they couldn’t come any closer.

Ben pointed. “It’s over there, on the wall. Beside that closet door or whatever it is.”

“It’s too hot!” she cried. “I can’t get to it!”

Ben remembered where the men’s room was. He ran in and found to his relief that the faucets were still working. He removed his windbreaker, soaked it thoroughly, and threw it over his head.

“Be careful!” Christina shouted when he emerged.

“I’ll do my best.” Draped in the wet coat, Ben ran to the control panel. The heat was scalding; he could almost feel his skin melting. The coat provided some protection to his face, but he knew he couldn’t count on that for long. Images of Maria Truong flashed in his brain. Please God, he did not want to be burned like that. Please—anything but that.

He had no idea which of the blinking buttons controlled the kennel, so he tried them all in rapid succession. After the third button, he heard Christina shout from inside the chapel.

“That’s it! The doors are opening! Get out of there!”

Ben raced away from the control panel, the flames licking at his heels. He felt scorched from head to toe. But he made it out.

He looked through the chapel window and saw the terrified dogs bolting out of the blazing kennel. “Now let’s get out of here!”

He grabbed her hand and raced toward the backdoor. Or as close to it as they could get.

The delay of a few minutes had cost them dearly. The fire in the basement was spreading not only out but up. The flames caught onto the wooden floor and crept all over the north wall.

They couldn’t even get close to the door.

“That’s it, then,” Ben said, staring into the flickering flames. “We’re trapped.”

64.

CHRISTINA PRESSED CLOSE AGAINST him. “There must be something we can do.”

“Look at the fire spreading,” Ben said, almost mesmerized by the red glow. “This wooden church will go up in no time at all.”

“I’m not giving up. If we can’t get out, we should move up.”

The wheels in Ben’s head began to turn. “There’s a staircase in the front lobby.”

“Come on!”

They ran through the chapel to the staircase. Just as they hit the stairs Ben heard a sudden whoosh! —followed by an intense flash of heat.

The fire must have hit a gas main or something flammable. The flames had burst forward, filling the chapel.

It was following them.

There was only one room on the second floor. It had no furnishings, but Ben saw many folding chairs and tables stacked against the walls. Probably a social room, or for Sunday school. Smaller groups that didn’t need a room the size of Fellowship Hall.

“There are no windows!” Christina exclaimed.

Ben scanned the room quickly. She was right.

“I had hoped there would be some way out—a window or a ventilation duct. Some exit from this death trap. But there isn’t.”

Ben could see the mounting panic in her eyes. She was out of ideas, and knew better than to look to him for help. He had never been any good in an emergency; she was the one who always saved the day. But this time it seemed even Christina was stumped.

“Maybe I can punch a hole in one of these walls,” he said, without much conviction. He covered his fist with his wet coat and gave one a try. He barely left a mark.

“Let’s go back down.” Ben had barely reached the head of the stairs before he realized that was impossible. The flames filled the ground floor. There was nowhere down there to go but straight into the inferno.

“Ben,” Christina said, “I—I don’t feel so good.” She began to cough violently. She sat down and braced herself against the floor.

She’d taken in too much smoke, Ben realized. Soon she’d be suffering from serious inhalation damage or scorching of her lungs. Or worse.

The fire reached the top of the stairs. It was filling the church, obliterating it. The flames wouldn’t stop until the church was utterly destroyed.

And everything in it.

“I need air,” Christina gasped, between coughs.

Ben pounded his fists together. There had to be something he could do. There had to be a way. This second-story refuge had become a prison; there was nothing they could do but wait for the fire to reach them. There was no way out. Not in the wall. Or the floor.

But what about the roof? Ben raised his head and looked upward. Yes! There was something up there—a trapdoor, perhaps?

He jumped toward it, but he was too short to reach it. He grabbed one of the folding chairs. They were hot to the touch. Gritting his teeth, he unfolded the chair and stood on it.

He popped open the trapdoor. From the opening he could see the steeple tower. Of course—this was how they rang the bell.

The fire was in the room with them now. They didn’t have a second to spare.

Ben scrambled down to Christina’s side. “Do you see the opening?”

Her nod was barely perceptible.

“Do you think you can get through?”

She didn’t answer, but her eyes told Ben she had serious doubts.

“I’ll go through first. If you can just stand on the chair, I’ll pull you up. Okay? Will you follow me?”

She smiled weakly. “Don’t I always?”

Ben pushed his head through the opening and grabbed the top of the roof. He’d never been very good at chin-ups in school, but it was amazing what you could do when the only alternative was being burned alive.

As soon as he was on the roof, he lay flat and reached down for Christina. She was already standing on the chair, but she was teetering uncertainly. She held out her arms to him.

Ben stretched his arms through the opening. Bloody hell! He would have a legal assistant who was barely five feet tall. Reaching down with all his might, he grabbed her hands and pulled. Once he had her head through, she flattened her arms against the shingles and helped push. A few seconds later she was on the roof.

And not a moment too soon. The fire filled the second-story room.

“We made it,” Ben said breathlessly. “Thank God.”

Christina drank in deep gulps of fresh—or at least fresher—air. “We made it,” she echoed. “But to what?”

Ben knew exactly what she meant. The way this fire was spreading, it would only be a matter of moments before it reached the roof. Or more likely, the flames would eat away at the structural supports and the roof would crash into the blazing cauldron below.

Ben peered uneasily over the edge of the roof. They were much higher up than the usual second-story roof. The chapel was probably designed with a high ceiling. Even if he had been inclined to try to jump to the ground, though, in this case, it would be a suicide plunge. The fire had spread to the surrounding land. He would be jumping to a hellish instant death.

There were no signs of assistance; in fact, there was no sign of anyone. Probably the only ones who had noticed the fire were the residents of Coi Than Tien, and they were hardly likely to mount a rescue.

There was no help from others, and no way they could help themselves. They were surrounded by flames on all sides.

And there was no way out.

65.

BEN SAT BESIDE CHRISTINA, hopeless and defeated. He had failed miserably. He hadn’t saved them. All he had done was buy time, and not much time at that.