Chapter 19
CAROLINE
Fight, flight, or freeze.
The last one seems to be running the show, because I’m stock-still, feet cemented to the wooden floorboards and my heart jackhammering against my rib cage like there’s some faulty circuit between it and my brain.
Adrenaline floods my system and blood redirects to my limbs.
Biologically, I’m primed to fight or flee.
But I’m not fighting. Or fleeing.
I’m frozen.
And the building is on fire.
There’s shouting and shoving. Someone slams into the wall of the stairwell, letting out a cry of pain in the crush of bodies all trying to get out at the same time.
“Caroline!” Ada grabs my arm, the urgency in her voice bordering on confusion. “Caroline! Come on!”
The curtains had gone up first. It had taken only seconds.
“Caroline!” Ada pulls harder, her panicked face flickering in the fire’s orange glow.
Move. You have to move.
My feet finally shift, the rest of my body following suit. Blocked by the mayhem in the stairwell, I search frantically for another way out. The dim red glow of an exit sign catches my eye through the accumulating smoke to my left.
I claw for Ada’s arm and haul her back. “This way!”
It’s dark, but we keep low and feel our way through a narrow hallway, dodging a ghoulish zombie and shrieking skeletons lit in disorienting flashes of purple strobe light.
Creepy music still plays over unseen speakers—an ominous soundtrack to our actual terror.
I cover my mouth and nose with my cloak, gasping through the fabric as I cling to Ada’s hand.
Finally, finally, the back door pushes open and we drag in desperate lungfuls of fresh air as we barrel down the stairs and away from the tinderbox of a building quickly succumbing to the flames.
The screaming and shouting intensify as we round the side of the haunted house and, as we near the front entrance, I claw the hair out of my face and chance a look back. The entire upper floor of the barn is ablaze, sparks and acrid smoke rising into the night above the roofline.
Oh my God.
I can only hope everyone’s getting out before it’s too late.
Ada coughs and grabs my arm again. “We’re still too close! Come on!”
As if to illustrate her point, something cracks from inside the upper level and a bulge of flame billows up, the blast of heat reaching our faces. I shuffle backward before turning to run with her among the crowd of people fleeing the scene.
Along the sides of the path, strings of lights flicker and die out, no doubt having lost their power source to the inferno behind us.
It reminds me of that scene from Titanic, when the lights extinguished on the ship as it sank—a strange reminder of the way nature can reclaim us, swallow us into the night.
Someone running beside me jostles my shoulder, trips, and grabs at my long cloak, yanking me downward. I stumble and crash into the dirty grass at my feet. The impact triggers a coughing spell and I can’t get up again right away.
“Caroline!”
I lift my head, my lungs straining for oxygen.
Miles.
I push to my feet, my eyes darting in every direction.
Where is he?
“Miles!” I call back, voice ragged from the smoke. I drift forward once more but have to stop again to cough.
Wait. Ada. Where’s Ada? I know she got out, but I’ve lost her. I scan the chaotic, panicked crowd—and that’s when I see him.
He’s backlit against the festival lights, but the silhouette struggling through the crowd of people running in the opposite direction is unmistakable. When he sees me, he muscles past the last few bodies and we collide.
“Oh, fuck, thank God!” His deep voice against my temple is full of pain and relief.
I can’t breathe, and I’m not sure if it’s from smoke inhalation or the way he’s crushing me so tightly in his arms. Maybe both.
He pulls back to look me up and down. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m okay,” I say; my scuffed knees and palms are inconsequential. “But I lost Ada. She got out… she’s…” I scan around us, relief flooding me when I spot her with Jesse about fifty yards away. “She’s okay. It’s okay.”
Sirens wail in the distance and I twist in Miles’ arms to face the inferno behind me. Flames lick up from the roof and into the smoke-filled sky, and every window on the lower floor reveals roiling orange flames inside.
Minutes. It only took minutes.
My stomach twists with worry at the thought that someone might have gotten trapped inside. I want to help but I have no idea how.
My arm is pulled yet again, and I turn to find that, this time, it’s Miles.
His stricken face hollows my stomach. “Come on. Please. I need to get you out of here.”
“But I think we’re—”
“Please,” he says again, a terrified urgency in his voice. “Just come with me. Caroline, fuck! Please!”
“Okay,” I say quickly. “Okay.”
He drags me through the crowd, weaving us between shocked onlookers and groups of people rushing past with buckets and hoses. Miles ducks us through a gap in the fencing and into the parking area, away from the festival-goers, the noise, the mayhem.
“Miles!” I say, but he keeps tugging me along. “Miles!”
It’s only when I dig my heels in that he finally gives in and stops in his tracks, gasping for air. He bends at the waist with his forearms propped on his knees, still clutching my hand. “I just…” He can barely speak. “I just need you to—”
“It’s okay,” I reassure him, finally wrenching free from his grasp so I can hold his face in my palms. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”
He straightens, crushing me against him once again, cupping the back of my neck in his trembling hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Why is he apologizing?
“It’s alright,” I say carefully, getting the distinct feeling that this is about something bigger than the fire. Bigger than my safety. “You’re okay.”
Still, his shoulders heave and his heart hammers under the palm I have pressed to his chest.
“Hey, hey, look at me. Miles. Look at me.”
His face twists in anguish when he draws back to meet my gaze and then he’s suddenly pushing me away, lurching from my arms and toward the space between two parked cars—where he vomits onto the ground.
The faint flicker of fire truck lights reaches us across the dark night and, when Miles finally emerges, wiping his mouth, his face is strangely ashen in the red glow.
“We should sit down,” I say. Now I’m the one dragging him along. I find a bale of hay next to the fence and figure it’ll be better than the muddy ground. “Sit down with me, okay?”
He slumps down hard and I sink onto the hay bale beside him, tugging him against me.
I squeeze his shoulder, his hand—anywhere I can reach to ground him.
“I’m sorry,” he grits out. “You shouldn’t be—”
“It’s gonna be alright,” I whisper, kissing his temple. “I’ve got you. We’re both safe now.”
“C’mere.” He draws me into him. “Please. Closer. I need you.”
Climbing onto his lap, I straddle him, and he pulls me flush with his chest. I kiss his cheeks and his forehead, then bury my face in his neck. “I’m here.”
When I turn to cough into my cloak, he stiffens, drawing back to search my face. “We need to get you checked. The smoke…”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No, it could still make you sick. How long were you in there?” The worry in his expression is intense. “Exposed to it. How long?”
“I dunno. A couple minutes? It’s just a cough. I swear I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” He holds my face in his hands, his eyes darting back and forth between mine.
“Miles, I’m sure.” I pause, wishing I could reassure him—infuse him with calm. I’ve never seen him this upset before. This distraught. My next words are tentative. “Are you okay?”
He frowns down at some indistinct spot on the muddy ground beside us. “Yeah, I just… I had this weird hot dog and—” He cuts himself off with a grimace.
I don’t buy for a second that he threw up from what he ate, but I don’t argue.
“Caroline, I’m so fucking sorry.” He looks up at me, his eyes burning and glassy. “I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there.”
“Why?” I ask. “You keep apologizing, but none of this is your fault.”
“No, I should’ve come with you. I could’ve… fuck.”
“But I wouldn’t have wanted you to do anything that made you uncomfortable.”
“It doesn’t matter! I should’ve kept you safe! If something had happened to you…” His voice falters as he trails off, the emotion in his words cutting into my chest. “It was my worthless brain that stopped me from going with you. My goddamn fucking anxiety! I should’ve been there!”
“Miles!” I raise my voice so he can hear me over his own spiraling and fist his t-shirt underneath his flannel, tugging it to get his attention. “Your brain is not worthless and this is not your fault!”
He pushes against me to get up, and I climb off his lap so he can pace in front of me. He yanks off his beanie and drives his fingers through his sweaty hair. “It is my fault.”
“How can you say that?” I plead. “You didn’t even—”
“No,” he says, cutting me off. “My messed-up fucking life is all because of me, Caroline! This piece-of-shit brain…” He stabs a finger at the air between us. “It’s why I’m a fuckup and an addict, it’s why my parents are dead, and it’s why I almost lost you!”
My jaw drops. “Hold on. Your parents?”
“Do you know why they died?” He steps closer, welling up with anger and anguish.
I shake my head. He knows I don’t.
“Because my ADHD ass forgot my meds at home and my lazy, selfish fucking solution was to call my mom and beg her to bring them to me. It was dark and raining, and I was too fucking pathetic to walk home to get them myself.”
I hate the vitriol in his voice. I’ve never heard him like this. “Miles—”
“My fucking uselessness is the reason they were even driving on that road.”
My heart twists for him—hearing the ugly way he talks about himself, the shame and disgust laced in every word. “But you didn’t know—”
“It doesn’t matter! I’m the one who killed them, Caroline!”
“No!” I reach for his face, but he steps out of my grasp like he doesn’t deserve to be touched or comforted. “It’s not your fault!”