Chapter 43 - Hattie
HATTIE
“Lucky,” I groan and pull the covers over my head. “Stop doing that.”
She’s been perched on the edge of Heston’s bed, staring at the door, and growling for the last five minutes.
I have no idea what time it is, but I think I fell asleep around ten o’clock, after Heston had called and said they were almost done with the new gate at my dad’s.
I was excited that he’d be back soon because I really don’t want him within ten miles of the place after Marcus’s threat yesterday.
When Lucky lets out a low growl again, I manage to sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. The screen on my phone doesn’t light up when I lift it from the nightstand. I curse under my breath and toss it on the comforter.
“Lucky,” I whisper sharply this time. “What’s gotten into you?”
Her body is rigid as I lean forward and smooth a hand down her back.
When her ears prick up, and she spins to bare her teeth at the window, I tilt my head.
The way she’s acting is strange, but there are plenty of critters running around at night in the country.
Since Heston’s not here, maybe she’s just on high alert after hearing a little rustling outside.
Still, I jump out of my skin when two loud knocks sound at the door.
“Hattie?” Granger’s muffled voice sounds from the hallway.
Lucky remains focused on the window while I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pull on a pair of shorts.
I can’t answer the door in nothing but an oversized t-shirt.
When I open it, Granger’s hair looks disheveled, and his eyes are slanted at the corners like he’s worried about something. My stomach drops.
“Is your phone dead?” he questions right away.
“Oh—yes, I fell asleep without plugging it in. What’s going on?”
“Not sure,” he admits, holding his phone out toward me. “Take this, and wait here until I get back.”
“Okay, what—” My sentence trails off as he ignores my response and strides away down the hall.
I look down at the screen on his phone and see that he’s already mid-call with Heston. “Hello?” I say, pinning the phone to my ear.
“Hey, we’re just passing through town. Be there in ten. Maybe five.”
My mind is fully awake now, but my body is still catching up. I rub my eyes again.
Lucky growls once more, and I squint at the window. All I see is black, but a loud bang rings out after I hear Granger shut the front door.
“I just heard something outside.”
“Stay where you are,” Heston says. “Someone entered the code at the gate, and the kid’s going to see who it is.”
“What?” I whisper. “You don’t know who?”
“No.”
I hate the way his voice sounds. It makes me uneasy, and the fact that Granger is out there in the dark with an unexpected visitor doesn’t help. Even worse, he gave me his phone and won’t have it if he happens to need it.
“How far away are you now?”
“Close,” Heston says. There’s low chatter in the background of the call, but he must have pulled the phone away from his face for a moment, because I can’t make out his response.
“Doesn’t Gage have surveillance?” I ask, peering down the dark hallway with a worried lip. “Can’t he just look and see who it was?”
“He did,” Heston says. “Didn’t recognize the vehicle.”
“Okay,” I whisper, trying not to give away how on edge I’m feeling at the moment. “I feel like I should go check on Granger.”
“No,” Heston demands. “Don’t leave the room—”
I gasp when a piercing shatter comes from the living room.
“Hattie?” Heston’s voice sounds distant. All I can hear are the shards of glass hitting the hardwood floor like heavy rainfall. “Hattie.”
Lucky rushes in front of me, but she doesn’t run to the hall. She’s barking at the open door while I cover my hand over my mouth and take two steps back. The smell of gasoline is pungent and burns the inside of my nose within seconds.
“Hattie, answer me!”
I drop the phone by accident when the window directly behind me shatters with the same sound as the one in the living room.
This time, the heat that follows is unbearable, and I stumble back until I bump into the wall.
I drop to my knees to find Granger’s phone, but the smoke is quickly eating up the oxygen in the room, and all I can do is squeeze my eyes shut between dry coughs.
Lucky bites down on the hem of my shirt and begins to pull back as hard as she can.
Rather than continuing to search for the phone, I brace my hands on the scorching hot floor and hold what air I can in my lungs to help me stand.
I stumble forward, but a pair of arms loop around my upper body just before I fall into the growing flames.
“Lucky.” I recognize Granger’s voice as he lifts me off the ground and rushes out of the room.
I can’t see my dog. I can’t see anything.
My arms raise to block my face when something collapses with a sickening crack.
Granger picks up speed, I jostle in his arms, and it isn’t until he crashes to his knees on the front porch that I instinctively gulp in the fresh air outside.
My throat convulses with a choke, then a gag, before I regain the ability to breathe normally.
“Fuck,” Granger shouts. “Fuck!”
He pushes off the porch to stand and immediately grabs the back of my shirt to haul me to my feet.
It happened so fast. I have no idea how it’s possible that in a flash, I felt like I was suffocating.
My brain barely processes what’s happening when I’m pulled to the edge of the porch and pushed toward the grass on the side of the bunkhouse.
Lucky is barking again, which is a temporary relief to know that she followed us out, but I nearly trip over her as she attempts to push my legs into motion.
“Hattie,” Granger yells. “Go.”
He turns around and disappears into a thick cloud of smoke. My mouth opens, but instead of words, another cough comes out. A door slams, pulling my attention away from the porch. Through watery eyes, all I can make out are red taillights vanishing in the dark.
I’d know the sound of spitting gravel anywhere. Whoever is tearing down the drive will be out of sight before I can collect myself and take off after them.
I cover my chest with both hands, willing myself to keep breathing despite how much it hurts to do so.
“Granger!” I attempt to yell, but it comes out more raspy and muted than I’d hoped. I screw my eyes shut and let the sob that’s been working up my throat come out.
I scream as one side of the porch gives out. It’s enough to shock me into movement, and I turn to run away. I’m so disoriented that I have no idea which direction I’m going, but the cooler the air feels, and the easier it is to inhale, the more my head clears.
The tears fall from my eyes in a helpless downpour when I finally stop and spin around. This isn’t happening right now. This cannot be happening. It’s all a dream . . . If I’d just wake up, it’ll all be over.
Flames burst out from the windows and door at the front of the bunkhouse. I bury my face in my hands just as a pair of headlights flash across the front yard. Lucky whines as she circles around my feet.
The fire is bright and impossibly hot, as to be expected. What shocks me is how loud it is. I want to cover my ears from the repulsive roar that’s stealing the night. The quiet. The memories.
I don’t look up when a body crashes into me and lifts me off the ground. I know it’s Heston the moment his arms surround me. I cry, weak and utterly heartbroken, into his shirt.
Within a minute, there are voices everywhere. I keep my head buried in Heston’s neck while he carries me away, even when another collapsing sound fills the air, and ear-piercing sirens send a shiver up my spine.
It doesn’t matter that help has arrived. That old bunkhouse never stood a chance.