my only shot. It’s dark as fuck now, and the little bit of light from the parking lot lights is blocked by the big ass steeple, so I feel around and finally find a handle.
“Come on, mother fucker.” I grunt and twist but it’s not moving. “Open, God damn you.”
I take it in both hands, pulling and bracing my foot against the metal frame, but nothing. I hear her screaming for help, her voice breaking, and there’s no fucking way this is how this is going to go.
I look up at the stars, tell God this isn’t fucking funny, and put a death grip on the handle.
The strain behind my eyes and in my head feels like a vein is about to burst as I pull and twist, screaming and straining, and just when white light starts to sparkle in front of my eyes, I’m down on my ass, with half the handle rusted and broken off in my hand.
I scramble on my knees, hoping to fuck I didn’t just break it off and now I can’t get a grip. I feel around and find what’s left of the handle, and start throwing little pieces of rusted broken metal away until I practically tear my fingernails off pulling the fucking metal door up, but at last it’s open. I throw myself inside, not even bothering with the metal ladder that’s there for access, instead grabbing the rails and sliding down until I hit the ground hard.
From there, I follow her screams and come up to a wooden door in a back room behind the massive sanctuary. With two kicks, it bursts open and I step inside a large room looks like storage, but with all the smoke it’s hard to tell.
“Please...” She pleads, but I don’t let her get another word out. I’ve got her under her ass and behind her back, and we are bolting for the front door.
I hear sirens in the distance, but we are three feet from the front door when it bursts open and we’re standing there staring at pastor junior.
“What are you doing here?” He yells.
I don’t answer. Instead, I push past him, carrying Kristina out into the parking lot to where I left my bike, right under one of the big outdoor lights with a cement base, and sit her down on that. As soon as she’s settled, I pull her hair out of her face and meet her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I run my hands down her hair, her face, her arms...my eyes racing over her for signs of injury.
“I’m okay.” She chokes out on a gagging cough, pressing her fingers to her cheeks. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Why were you in the church alone at night?” I don’t mean to sound pissed, but she could have fucking died and that is completely unacceptable. From now on, she needs to tell me where she is and who she’s with.
Red and blue lights are flashing, coming down the street now, and the sirens are screaming. Fire trucks and EMS pull in and they are dealing with the fire as I finish checking her over, then ask her again.
“Why were you in there?”
“I – I...” She pauses, looking at me, then licks her lips looking like she’s trying to remember. “William called. He said he thought he left the lights on in the sanctuary and could I go look out the window. I did and they were on, so he asked me to go over and turn them off...”
She’s searching my face and I reach into my back pocket and pull out my handkerchief. Not many dudes still use a handkerchief, but it’s something my father taught me. Trust me, he’d say, always have one—even if not for your own snotty nose, then in case a lady is ever crying, you can be the hero with the handkerchief.
I crouch in front of her, wiping her face with the cloth, clearing some of the soot from her cheeks.
“Okay, so you went in and there was a fire? Why the fuck did you go in? Call the fire department...”
“There was no fire when I went in. I went into the back room and walked over to the panel with all the main switches to the big sanctuary lights. I flicked them off and when I did there was this like, sparking sound.” She scratches above her eye then finishes. “It was loud and it scared me, so I went to the door and just tried to