licked the bottom of the curtain, catching onto the accelerant. The cloth began to smoke, and blacken—and then it caught fire.
The flames ate up the fabric. Then the smoke alarm started to squeal.
Josh let out a terrified howl at the same time. “Fire!” he shrieked.
“Oh fucking fuck!” Ray bellowed, lunging for the kitchen.
Josh backed away from the flames, still holding the rolling pin. The flames licked the ceiling. Belker and Ray were bellowing in the kitchen, trying to deal with the fire extinguisher.
Josh left them to it, and bolted for the utility closet at the end of the corridor.
Inside it was the electrical panel. He dragged the on-off lever down to “off.”
Pitch darkness now. Just the crackling red glow from the kitchen, the bellowing of the two men fighting the fire, the acrid stink of smoke.
Josh swung the rolling pin up at the panel with all his strength and bashed at the spot he’d just memorized. Again. Again. Again. He reached up and felt the panel, running his hand over it. The on-off switch was gone, the panel scarred and dented.
That would slow them down. Who knew how long.
Gunshots. Fuck. It had started. Lu said to move fast and keep low. Get to the cast iron bathtub if he could. With the house on fucking fire? He’d end up roasted.
He opened the closet door, trying not to cough, and stumbled through the billowing smoke down the corridor toward the bathroom.
Something huge hit him in the back, smacking him to the ground face first.
His jaw clacked together. He bit his tongue and tasted blood. Tried to breathe, couldn’t. His wind was gone. He was pinned. There was an elephant on top of him.
Then the huge weight shifted, and he felt a heavy hand across his windpipe. Slowly squeezing it. And the pressure of a gun barrel, burning his scalp.
“You lying sack of shit.” Belker’s gravelly rasp. “You did this. And I’m going to make you pay. I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”
21
Gunshots rang from the kitchen. Nate crawled down the corridor toward the foot of the stairs, choking on smoke. Mace darted out of the kitchen.
“Status?” Nate coughed out.
“Two hostiles down,” Mace said. “One unaccounted for. Fire is out of control. We have to get the kid and get the fuck out of here fast.”
Mace gestured for Nate to continue down the corridor, and darted upstairs before Nate could call him back. He didn’t want Mace trapped up there.
A swift glance into the living room showed it empty. He was lucky for the infrared goggles. With the power out, the only light source was the fire raging from the kitchen. He sidled along on the walls toward the bathroom, flattened against the wall. He reached for the knob, stretching his arm out, pulling the handle down.
Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam.
Fuck. Nate jerked back. The bullets had punched through the bathroom door.
A second of silence followed by a guttural howl, then sounds of a scuffle. He could barely hear it with his gunshot-deafened ears. Screaming, shouting, thumping.
Nate opened the door. Two men writhed on the floor. A big one was on top. Crew cut, thick neck. Not-Josh. The top guy turned, eyes wide and blind in the darkness, gun whipping up—
Bam. Nate put a bullet through his forehead.
The gun fell from the dead man’s grip. He collapsed on top of Josh.
Nate sank down to his knees. “Josh? Is that you? Are you okay?”
“I’m Josh.” The kid’s voice was raspy and thin. “Who are you?”
“I’m Nate,” he said.
“Could you help me shove this guy off of me? I think my arm is broken. I can’t seem to do it with just one.”
Nate heaved the body off the younger man. Josh hissed in pain as Nate carefully helped him sit up. Josh sat in a spreading puddle of hot blood from the other man’s head. He felt it with his hand, and flinched away in revulsion.
“He won’t hurt you again,” Nate told him. “He’s gone now.”
Josh let out a sobbing breath. His face streamed with blood from his nose.
“Okay,” he said shakily, nodding. “Okay, then.”
Nate noticed the thin piece of wood poking out of the meat of the dead guy’s fleshy thigh.
“Did you stick that spike into him?” he asked.
“Yeah, when he shot at the door,” Josh said wearily. “It’s a chopstick. They hid all the knives and tools, so I sharpened a chopstick. I kept it in my sock.”
The smoke was thicker now, and Mace appeared at the door, his hand over his mouth, coughing.