Chapter Six
In which the world is an inferno.
Scarlett…
This could be it.
I've successfully logged on to Marlena’s computer, she’s gotten more suspicious and changes the password every couple of weeks.
It takes so much longer than it should to go through her files.
There are thousands of them, most of them stuff for her inspiration boards, video downloads of sexy guys from OnlyFans - she’s definitely in her Hot Lifeguard phase - and shopping lists.
A lot of the files are encrypted, but if you’re on the company’s network, you have access to the encryption key… if you know how to dig around a little.
Murder Mittens sits on the desk, glaring at me. She sneezes when we are in here because my Wicked Stepmother has doused every surface in the office with her “signature scent,” an eye-watering combination of Chanel No. 5, Yves Saint Laurent Libre, and something that I swear smells like pepperoni.
“I know, babe,” I smile apologetically at her resentful, furry face. “This is important, though.”
There’s a whole cluster of files on her hard drive that I’ve never been able to access. I know there’s something there that will help me. Financial transfers, something that will connect her to the crash that killed my father and left me…
Don’t think about it. Don’t.
Checking my phone, I groan. I’ve only got another thirty minutes or so before I’ll have to re-set the servers and erase my activity.
Then, I’m back to scrubbing the break room microwave, which is more disgusting than a hockey locker room floor.
Rubbing my eyes, I try to focus on the encrypted data on the monitor. Is that an international banking code?
I smell it first, creeping tendrils of smoke from the air vent in the corner. Fingers stilled on the keyboard; I stare at it stupidly. Is Maury smoking?
Maury doesn’t smoke.
There’s muffled shouting outside, and I push away from the desk, hurrying toward the window. Maury’s there in the middle of the parking lot, racing toward the building and screaming, his face beet red and wide, terrified eyes.
“...oh god… get out! …F-”
Fire.
Oh my god, the building’s on fire!
I look up at the sprinklers in the ceiling. Why aren’t they spraying water? The building’s fire suppression system went off accidentally once and everything was drenched, why aren’t they working?
Maury’s terrified gaze finally meets mine and he frantically waves his arms. “Fire! Scarlett run! Get out!”
Murder Mitten’s anxious yowls are adding to my panic and I shove her down in the backpack, hurrying for the door.
Wait. What am I supposed to do? Touch the door and see if it’s hot? I’m not supposed to open it if it’s hot, right? Pulling my t-shirt up over my nose and mouth, I touch the wood.
Warm, not hot. Opening it, I shriek through my hand and the cotton covering my mouth. There’s a spear of fire shooting down the hall and as I open the door, it races for me, greedy fingers reaching out-
Slamming the door shut, I race for the attached bathroom, the “Executive Bathroom” Marlena is always so proud of that the Executive-
“Focus!” I’m screaming at myself but there’s a terrified yowl of agreement from the backpack. “Towels. Block the smoke.”
Grabbing an armload of aubergine-colored towels, I hurry back and stuff them against the crack under the door. There’s already smoke in the office, hovering under the ceiling like a malevolent cloud.
“The windows! Oh, god the windows don’t open,” I sob. “Break one. I can do that. It’s two stories. We can survive that, Murder Mittens. Just two…”
She can’t survive that, she’s just a cat, but I can figure something out. The heaviest chair is placed in front of the desk. Lower than Marlena’s office chair to make her visitor feel like they’re less.
“Hang on, kitty, we’re getting out of here.” Gritting my teeth, I lift the chair and heave it with all my strength against the window behind the desk.
It bounces off the iron frame with a thud and nearly knocks me over.
“You have got to be kidding me!”
My eyes are wet, tears running down my face from the smoke and the t-shirt’s not doing much. Murder Mittens! How long can her little kitty lungs function?
There’s a crack in the window, not big but it’s there. Using Marlena’s lighter, ergonomic chair I slam at it again, and again. “How thick is this glass! Why is this-”
Stop talking. Think.
Smashing the chair at the window again, I break off the back of the seat, cutting my hand but there’s a hole, a thick piece of glass falling from the infuriatingly sturdy iron frame. Those window frames, they’re strong, they were built when this place was a warehouse, they don’t want to let me out.
Maury’s down there, he’s backed away from the building halfway into the parking lot. He’s on the phone, screaming something as he looks up at me.
Hitting the window again, I watch cracks spiderweb across the surface.
Over Murder Mitten’s frantic yowling, I hear something else, hissing, a violent cracking, sounding as if someone’s spine snapped in half, then groaning like the steel beams are bending, collapsing against the weight of the destruction.
Pulling my kitty, my best friend out of the backpack, I kick out a chunk of glass and lean out as far as I can. It’s not big enough for me, a broken edge is cutting into my shoulder. I kiss Murder Mitten’s little face and hold her out the window.
“You can land on your paws, my baby. I know you, you can. There are bushes below us-” I stifle a scream as the bushes flare up, angry yellow sparks shooting through the branches like popcorn.
The bathroom - Executive Bathroom - door slams open and a man races into the room.
Behind him, there’s a huge hole where there used to be a wall and the fire is following him.
He kicks the bathroom door shut. There’s a groan, an ominous creaking noise and the office door is bulging oddly, like the wood is trying to find some other shape.
“We’re going out this window- Listen to me!” The man shakes me hard.
“I’m listening!” I scream back, coughing uncontrollably. I can’t see his face through the smoke. He pulls Murder Mittens from my arms and tucks her into his jacket.
“That door’s about to disintegrate and the fire will explode through,” he shouts, kicking the rest of the glass from two other frames, then slamming his boot again and again against the stubborn iron.
“We are going to jump. I can’t lower you in time.
Relax, try to land on your feet, protect your head.
” That iron frame finally bends and cracks under his boot and he wedges us into the opening.
I could never explain it properly, afterward, the sound. No matter how many ways I tried.
It’s a deep sucking roar, like a giant filling his lungs until his chest explodes outward. The door evaporates and the spear of fire searching for me from before shoots into the room. Then feeling like I’ve been kicked in the chest as we fly backward out the hole the man had made.
I’m weightless, flying. Sparks stream past, chasing me.
My scattered brain tries to work, to land on my feet and roll. Instead, I hit the unforgiving ground with a brutal thud, landing on my shoulder. The momentum rolls me onto my back and then I curl up like a potato bug, staring at the conflagration that used to be my family’s business.
I’m yanked up by my arm and I scream. The faceless man is pulling me away, running with Murder Mittens still tucked in his jacket.
I barely hear Maury’s shouting but the man looks back at him, roaring, “RUN!”
Maury does, just as something explodes, another violent push from behind that nearly knocks us off our feet and makes my eardrums bulge ominously.
I stumble, coughing and he hauls me up again, still running, Murder Mittens bouncing up and down in his jacket until we’ve made it to the next building down the block.
The fire is so powerful that it’s crisping my hair, even from this far and I scream as another explosion rocks the ground. I can hear the distant sound of sirens.
“The fire trucks, they’re coming,” I cough and wheeze. “They’ll have paramedics, they can-”
Another explosion.
All the windows in this building facing the inferno shatter, shards flying like bullets and the man pulls me around the corner. There’s an old jeep there and he opens the door, shoving me inside as a fourth explosion rumbles through the parking lot like an earthquake.
He’s in the driver’s seat and we’re racing away from the nightmare behind us, the jeep painted searing shades of red and orange from the light of the blaze.