Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3) by Brett Battles (ebook reader with built in dictionary txt) 📕

to pull my face mask out of my pocket but then stop and ask, “Do you have a towel or a blanket or something like that?”

“A blanket, I think.”

She runs to her pickup.

Jar, who has joined me outside and is already wearing her mask, says, “You’re going in.”

I glance at her and nod.

She looks as apprehensive about the idea as I feel, but we both know we didn’t rush over here to just watch a house burn down.

The woman returns a moment later with a dirty green blanket.

I grab it from her with muttered thanks, and run to a water spigot sticking out of the ground near the front of the house.

Even though the flames are on the other side of the building, I can feel the heat as I soak the blanket with water. As soon as I’ve drenched it, I drape it over my head and down my back, and pull the two sides together in front of me, leaving a small gap to see through. It is not the perfect outfit to wear running into a burning house, but it is better than nothing.

Jar gives me a worried nod, which I return, before I enter the house through the partially open front door.

It’s too dark to see much of anything, so I hold the blanket with one hand, pull out my phone with the other, and switch on its flashlight. I pass through an entryway into what I’m assuming is the living room. It has no furniture or anything hanging on the walls. The room is smoky, but since the fire hasn’t reached this part of the house yet, it’s not as bad as it could be. I can hear the blaze roaring down a hallway that leads farther back, so it won’t stay this way much longer.

“Hello?” I yell. “Do you need help?”

Dammit. I should have asked for the man’s name.

I rush to the left to a doorway that leads to another room. It’s smokier here, so I crouch down to stay below the bulk of it.

“Hey! Anyone in here?”

I sweep the flashlight beam through the room. I thought it was the kitchen but it’s not. A dining room, maybe? Whatever it is, it also has no furniture. Through an open door on the other side, I can see the beginnings of what has to be the kitchen. It’s smoky back there, too, and though it’s mostly dark, an intermittent flicker of light tells me the fire is beginning to breach its walls.

I don’t want to go in that direction but I need to find this guy. I pull the blanket as close around my face as possible and hurry to the kitchen doorway. Even with the wet cloth in front of my face, I can’t help but breathe in a bit of the smoke and cough it back out. I’m not going to be able to stay here more than a few seconds.

I shine my light across the kitchen floor. The moment I’m sure no one is in the room, I retreat to the front of the house. The two choices I have left are the hallway that leads toward the fire, and the stairs to the second floor. Well, I do have a third choice: head back outside. That would be the smart decision, but I can’t bring myself to do that yet.

I step into the hallway and immediately know if the man’s down there, he’s out of my reach. Flames are licking the walls at the end of the corridor, and the smoke is heavy and thick.

I move over to the staircase. It’s not that great an option, either. As I’m sure you know, smoke rises. Which means no matter what, there will be more of it at the top of the stairs than here at the bottom. I suck in some air through the not-quite-as-wet-as-it-was-earlier blanket, and head up.

When I reach the top, I crouch so low that I might as well be on my hands and knees, to stay below the thickest part of the smoke . I have, at most, a minute before I need to get out of here. It’s probably more like thirty seconds.

The hallway’s empty except for me. If the man is up here, he’s beyond one of the four doorways I can see. Fire is raging in the two rooms at the far end. The only good thing about that is, the light from the flames provides enough illumination for me to pocket my phone.

I move to the first doorway and peek in. Empty, of furniture and people.

I move across the hall and down a little farther to the next entrance. No furniture here, either. But sprawled on the floor near one of the windows is a man.

I rush to him. He’s unconscious, his breaths labored.

I jerk the blanket off me and manhandle him over my shoulder. He’s not tall but he is a bit pudgy, so it takes some effort to get him in place. Once he’s set, I wiggle the blanket back over both of us.

Back in the hall, the flames are starting to come up through the floorboard, and I know the house won’t remain standing for much longer. I hurry down the stairs, trying not to cough but failing.

When I reach the bottom, the living room is a hell of a lot smokier than it was the last time I was here, and I become disoriented. I pause just long enough to remember where the front door is and then turn to my right.

I know I’ve reached the entryway when my shin smacks against the built-in bench. I stagger backward a step, wincing. For a second, it feels like the guy over my shoulder will slip off, so I readjust his weight. Then, ignoring the pain in my leg, I stagger out the front door.

Jar is at my side before I make it more than a few steps. She pulls the blanket off, drops it on the ground, and guides me away