16. Carrie
— ? —
Carrie
I wake to smoke.
It takes a moment for my brain to catch up with my body, the burning in my lungs, the darkness that isn’t quite right, the acrid smell that claws at my throat. I cough, try to breathe, and that’s when I see it.
Orange light guttering beneath the bedroom door.
“TOM!”
He’s already awake, already moving. His hand finds mine in the darkness and pulls me out of bed.
“The living room’s gone. We have to go through the window.”
I can hear it now, the roar of the flames, the crackle of wood, the cabin devouring itself. When I look at the bedroom door, I can see light seeping through the cracks, and the handle is glowing faintly, the metal heating from the other side.
“Come on.” Tom drags me to the window and shoves it open. Cold night air rushes in, and I gulp it down in desperate mouthfuls, my lungs screaming in relief.
“There’s a drop, but the grass is soft. Jump and roll. I’ll be right behind you.”
“What about you?”
“There’s something I have to get.” His jaw tightens. “It’s in the workshop. Give me thirty seconds.”
“Tom, no.”
“I’m not leaving it for him to burn. Not this one thing.”
“Nothing in that workshop is worth your life!”
“This is.” He cups my face, and even in the darkness, I can see the determination in his eyes. “Thirty seconds. I promise. Go.”
“Tom.”
He kisses me. Hard, fast, desperate, memorizing the taste of me.
“I love you. Get out. I’ll be right behind you.”
Then he’s gone, disappearing through the bedroom door into the inferno.
“TOM!”
I don’t have time to think. I don’t have time to argue. I climb onto the windowsill, and for a horrible moment I’m frozen there, looking at the drop below, the smoke billowing out around me, the fire roaring at my back.
Move. Move. You have to move.
I jump.
The landing knocks the air out of me. Pain shoots up my ankle, and I cry out, but I’m alive, I’m out, I’m.
The cabin is fully engulfed.
I scramble to my feet, ignoring the throb in my ankle, and back away from the flames. The heat is incredible, pushing at me in waves, and the sound, God, the sound, is alive and hungry.
“TOM!”
No answer. Just the roar of the fire.
I circle the cabin, looking for him, looking for any sign of movement. The front porch has collapsed. The living room windows have shattered from the heat. The workshop.
The workshop.
I run around to the back of the cabin, toward the workshop. The fire hasn’t reached it yet, but I can see flames licking at the roofline, spreading fast.
“TOM!”
The back door bursts open.
He comes out stumbling, one fist clenched against his chest, and his shirt is on fire.
There is no decision in it. I am already moving.
I tackle him into the grass, rolling him, beating at the flames with my bare hands. He’s screaming, or maybe I’m screaming, and the smell of burning fabric and worse fills my nose.
“Tom. Tom, stay with me.”
The fire is out. His shirt is a ruin of charred fabric, and the skin beneath, oh God, the skin, is red and blistered, peeling away from his arm and shoulder in a way that makes my stomach lurch.
“Carrie.” His voice is slurred. Weak. “Did you get out? The baby, are you...”
“I’m fine. The baby’s fine. We’re both fine. Tom, stay with me.”
His eyes flutter closed.
“No. No no no.” I press my hand to his chest, feeling for his heartbeat. It’s there. Faint, but steady. “Tom. Please. Open your eyes.”
He doesn’t respond.
Sirens in the distance. Someone must have seen the flames, called it in. Help is coming. I just need to keep him alive until then.
I kneel beside him in the grass, his head in my lap, my hand pressed to the pulse in his neck. The cabin burns behind us, sending sparks into the night sky, hellish stars, and I watch everything we built together turn to ash.
That’s when I see the car.
It’s pulling away from the tree line, headlights sweeping across the gravel road. Moving slow, the driver making sure to see what they came for before they go.
The headlights catch a face for just a moment.
Ulises.
He’s watching us. Watching his brother unconscious in the grass, watching me covered in soot and blood, watching the cabin burn. And his expression holds satisfaction, maybe, or relief, or the cold pleasure of a man who’s finally gotten his revenge.
Then the car accelerates, disappearing into the darkness.
The sirens get louder. Red and blue lights flash through the trees.
I look down at Tom’s face, slack and pale in the firelight. At his burned arm, the skin already starting to blister.
At the man who gave up everything for me.
“Stay with me,” I whisper. “Stay with me.”
But he doesn’t open his eyes.
And all I can do is hold him while the world burns.