Leslie Glass - Burning Time

Grebs plunged through the door, the butane torch aimed at them, spitting fire. The blue torch flame roared casting a blinding light. It ignited the upholstered chair. Behind Grebs, the furniture in the bedroom was already ablaze.

April raised her gun but couldn’t shoot.

“Get out of the way!” she screamed at Emma. Emma had come to a halt three quarters of the way across the room, blocking her line of fire.

“Crazy bitch, crazy gook bitch. Burn in hell.”

Grebs lowered the torch to fire the chair by April’s side. A blue flash shot at the fabric.

Crazy bitch! April wasn’t taking that again. She reached out. “Emma, come on. Three steps and you’re out of here.”

Her face burned from the searing heat as Grebs torched the brown curtains at the window. Flames ate up the roller shade and licked at the ceiling. Grebs was at the window facing the garden.

A shot sounded from outside. The fire spread to the cheap rug on the floor.

“Emma, come on.” April had her covered. She reached out one hand. “Come on.”

Outside, April heard the shouts of Sanchez. “Get the hell out of there!”

“Come on, Emma,” April coaxed.

Emma couldn’t seem to move. Blinding light flashed at her five feet away, too far to burn her but close enough to smart.

“Hurry.”

Animal sounds joined the roar of the torch.

“Fucking witch shot me. Fucking bitch—”

Grebs screamed obscenities. For an instant, April had a clear sight of him through the thickening smoke. She could see that he was bleeding, looking for a way out. There was no way out. The flare died. He smashed the window with the heavy cylinder. Another shot came from outside. It hit the window frame with a little thuck .

“Fucking shit—”

He swung around and torched the sofa. Choking black smoke billowed up.

Emma screamed. The rug was burning near her bare feet. April stepped forward and grabbed her hand. It was slippery. She hung on.

“Move.” April pulled her toward the door. Her face burned, and now she was coughing, too. But April didn’t want to leave without nailing the bastard who killed Ellen Roane. The torch spat at her again, forcing her farther back as Grebs moved to the kitchen where the stove was.

“He’s going to blow up the house!” Emma cried.

“What?”

“He did something to the gas line. There’s a leak.”

April pushed Emma behind her as Sanchez charged into the room and grabbed her. April only had a second. The hot gray cloud surged around her, blowing out the broken window. She didn’t want him to blow up the place, and didn’t want him to get away. She held her breath against the suffocating fumes, raised her two hands together, and fired her gun in the line of duty for the second time ever. Grebs screamed. She saw him go down, his jeans and hair on fire. She raised her gun to fire a second time, but Sanchez had come back for her. He grabbed her and shoved her out the door, using himself as a shield as the fire inside roared and spread.

The last thing April saw was Grebs on fire, writhing on the floor when the explosion hit. The blast was enormous. It shook the earth and shattered windows all up and down the block. The roof collapsed above them, and the raging fire shot up into the sky.

77

Boom . Shock waves jolted the street, setting an overhead street light swinging wildly in the intersection in front of Jason’s taxi. The car in front of them swerved to avoid a kid on a bike, skidding out of control.

“What the—”

The taxi driver slammed on the breaks, smashing Jason into the plastic divider that separated them.

“What are you doing?” Jason cried. “Go ahead.”

The taxi spun out and stopped sideways in the intersection. Above, the light, still showing green, swung back and forth.

“You blind, mon?” the driver shouted over his rasta music. He pointed to the dense black smoke that was already beginning to spew up into the sky, several blocks ahead of them.

Horns started honking around them. They were blocking the traffic flow into the intersection.

“Go on,” Jason said wildly. They had about six blocks to go. “Go on.”

“No, mon, I don’t want to get near no fire.”

Fire. Oh, shit it was a big fire. Grebs set fires. Jason could see the flames now, shooting up over the tops of the two-story houses. Oh, God. Too late.

“Go on,” he cried. “We’re not there. Go on.”

“Not going no farther, mon. We’ll get stuck in there.”

“It’s only a few blocks. Hurry up.” Jason dug in his pocket and pulled out the wad of bills he had left from his California trip. “I’ll give you five hundred dollars to take me six fucking blocks. Come on. It’ll only take you a few minutes.”

The light turned red. The horns blared. The driver eyed the thick wad of bills. He shrugged.

“Okay, mon. It’s your money.”

Jerk, jerk, jerk. They lurched forward as the taxi accelerated into traffic moving the other way, causing a gridlock. Shrieking fire engines raced into the mess, adding to the chaos of a dozen furious horns honking all around them. Above them, the sky turned black. Jason got out on the side of the car that had a door handle and started to run.

78

The blast blew out the front wall of the garage apartment, causing the collapse of half the roof. Fire raged out of the jagged opening. A large piece of crumpled aluminum siding fell on the driveway in front of the garage door. Shattered glass littered front lawns and sidewalks all up and down the block.

The stakeout cop who had been tinkering with the car had seen Mike and April go into the garage. He’d followed to provide backup. He hadn’t had time to make it up the stairs. The house shook with a deafening bang. April, Sanchez, and the woman hostage were blown out the door and propelled down the stairs, knocking the stakeout cop over.

Choking on smoke and plaster dust, all four struggled for air. Three of them had landed in a tangled heap on the cement floor. Emma lay curled motionless on her side. April sprawled over her legs. Sanchez’s full weight came to rest on April’s twisted ankle. The stakeout cop smashed against the wall, where two lawn chairs crashed on top of him. From upstairs came the powerful smell of charcoal, burning electric wires, and charred flesh.

Better get out of here . April was the first to move. Her ankle throbbed. Her eyes stung with smoke and dust. She couldn’t see anything. She put her hand out to Emma. “You all right?” Of course she wasn’t all right. April had crashed down on her hard. The woman had no clothes on. April could feel the black soot and plaster dust that clung to her sticky skin. Emma’s fingers touched hers. She groaned, but didn’t say anything.

Sanchez was a dead weight.

“Mike?” April cried. “Mike—”

“Uh.” He grabbed the back of the blackened car, struggled to his feet. The heat in there was intense. He held out his hand to April, jerked her up. “We got to get out.”

The stakeout cop untangled himself from the lawn chairs, cursing. “Come on,” he said. He stepped forward and fell on his face. “Shit,” he muttered. “Shit.”

“Mrs. Frank.” April leaned over her. “Mrs. Frank, can you stand up?”

“I don’t know.” Emma’s voice was hoarse and panicked.

“It’s okay, we’ll get you out.” She put her arm around Emma and helped her up, though she could hardly stand herself. Her jacket and pants were peppered with cuts and burns. Her hands and face, too. Her whole body felt scorched and bruised. She ignored it. She figured Emma felt a lot worse. Sanchez supported her other side.

April nodded at him to start moving, and saw that the fire had singed off his mustache and eyebrows. His upper lip was red.