“He needed his pistol. Before the fire had started, the distance between the kitchen and the front room had seemed like nothing at all, just a few feet. But now, as he felt the skin on his back wrinkling like old parchment, and the stench of burning hair mixed with the rest of the horrific olfactory assaults, it felt as if he were crawling the length of a swimming pool. Please let it be there, he prayed. As if it could have wandered off on its own. There it was, right where he thought, and thank... God for it. Seconds meant everything in this heat. His clock had ticked down to nothing, and he still had to make it back to the kitchen. The pain of the fire on his back eclipsed the pain of his bullet wound. The terror of burning to death had eclipsed his fear of living. * * * Nicki was dying. Of this, she was one hundred percent certain. And as she watched Brad crawl back into the inferno that was the living room, she knew that she would die alone. Even as the panic welled up, she realized the bitter irony in the prayer she offered up to God to allow her to die of asphyxia before the fire could get to her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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