Black Oil, Red Blood - By Diane Castle Page 0,106

around us. Flames easily caught up with us, and even through the respirator, the scent of smoke and chemical waste scorched my nostrils.

Bits of flaming particles rained down on us, the deluge of the devil, and we dodged as best we could.

Another explosion. The building shuddered, and a flaming crossbeam crashed down behind us, missing by mere inches.

“You have to go,” Nash said. “If you wait for me, you’ll die.”

“I’m not leaving here without you.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re not leaving,” Nash said.

“We can make it! Come on. Just a little farther!

The building shuddered again, and this time an entire section of hallway collapsed. Nash heard the walls coming down and jerked me into an open doorway, hoping to gain what meager protection he could.

In the space of three seconds, debris crashed down, all aflame, blocking the pathway out completely.

“Look!” Nash said, pointing to a window in the office we’d just ducked into.

I nodded. We weren’t on the first floor, but there was a fire escape outside.

I picked up a desk chair and hurled it through the glass.

Then we both climbed through and surveyed the long distance down to the ground. We were six stories high. There would be no quick descent for Nash on his wounded foot.

We began the descent together, one painful step at a time.

Another explosion from somewhere inside shook the stairs. Again, I heard the shriek of metal on metal and knew the infrastructure was beginning to collapse.

I panicked, grabbed onto the railing, and stopped.

“Don’t stop!” Nash said. “Go! Go!”

I refused to budge without him.

“So help me God, Chloe, if you don’t go now, I will pick you up and throw you over the railing! Go! I’ll catch up with you!”

Still, I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave him to die, even if it meant saving my own life.

Nash hopped onto the stair railing and slid down. Before I knew it, he was beneath me.

“See?” he said. “Hurry up!”

Reassured, I pounded down the stairs as Nash continued to slide.

When my feet hit the ground, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Too soon.

The refinery grumbled and groaned in its death throes. High at the top of the building, the smoke stacks caved in. The structure swallowed itself and belched fire.

The loudest explosion of all shook the dirt beneath my feet, and I thought the very ground would open up and swallow the entire refinery, and us with it.

“Run, Chloe! Run!”

This time, I ran. I hadn’t intended to leave Nash, but sheer survival instinct propelled me forward. A thicket of trees lay ahead of me, and I ran deep into it, hoping its thick trunks and green canopy might provide some measure of protection if the refinery blew.

Nash ran behind me more slowly.

“Nash!” I called. “Nash, hurry up!”

“I’m coming!”

Please, Nash. Please. I mentally willed him to overcome the pain and keep up with me. Please.

I ran ever farther into the thicket, frantically kicking my way through brush and weeds until I was in so deep I could no longer see the refinery or Nash behind me.

Nash!” My lungs were on fire. I could barely get the word out.

There was no answer.

Nevertheless, I could not stop. I mechanically jerked one foot in front of the other, over and over, churning out as much distance as I could between me and an imminent catastrophic disaster.

When the final explosion came, my eardrums popped with its force, even though I was far into the woods. I felt the heat and the force of the blast propel me into the air, up, up, and forward. Trees flattened behind me. Splinters of wood and bark shot forward. Leaves burst into the air and caught flame, transforming into embers that floated softly to the ground.

My skin burned. My body ached. I flew forward, my body one with the motion of the forest around me. And then I slammed into the ground.

The last thoughts I had as the world went dark were of Nash and how I’d never see him again.

CHAPTER 39

From out of the darkness, I felt a repetitive, wet pressure on my face. A sponge? No. A tongue. In the distance, I heard a voice. It sounded like Miles.

“She found her!” called the voice that sounded like Miles.

I opened my eyes to find Lucy standing on my chest, frantically swiping her tongue over and over my cheek.

“Lucy,” I said. “Good dog.”

I figured I must be dead. I had to be dead, and this had to be some Heavenly incarnation of my dog, because otherwise, what on

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