Dead and Alive

Chapter 1

September, 1995

They were going to die.

Reggie Peters crouched low on the floor of the stage; gaze riveted on the fire burning around them. The pyrotechnics that had seemed like such a cool idea hadn't gone off during the last chorus of "Now or Never". Instead, it'd exploded, throwing sparks straight up into the curtains and the Orpheum's stage. The wood was ancient; it'd caught in seconds, and now everything around them was on fire. Bobby Wilson had been able to jump off the stage as soon as the fire had started, but Reggie, Alex, and Luke hadn't been so lucky. They'd abandoned their instruments and retreated to the center of the stage, clutching each other in fear.

Alex Mercer's drum set made a horrible sound as it burned. The mylar drum skins melted the metal shells holding them, making them crash down with a terrible clang of noise. Reggie's bass guitar's strings snapped with the heat, and it felt like Reggie's heart was snapping with it. Feel sad later, he ordered himself. They had to survive this first.

"What do we do?" Alex shouted over the roar of the flames. He was crouched beside Reggie, hands gripping his shoulders tight enough to hurt. His blue eyes were wide enough to reflect the flames.

"We have to get the fuck out of here!" Luke Patterson said. He was on Reggie's other side, jaw clenched.

"How?" Alex cried. "The fire—"

"I know!" Luke cut him off. "We should make a run for it."

"Everything's on fire," Reggie said. He was sweating in his leather jacket, from both the oppressive heat and raw fear. Don't panic, he thought. Don't panic, don't panic!

"Do you want to burn to death?" Luke's hand was wrapped tightly around Reggie's wrist. "The back of the stage isn't burning as badly as the front. We should go out that way."

"We should wait here." Alex's voice was shaking and Reggie could hear how close he was to losing it. "For sure Bobby's called 911 by now. The firefighters—"

"Aren't here!" Luke shouted. "We have to save ourselves!" He turned towards the back of the stage, pulling Reggie with him. Alex followed, hands still gripping Reggie's shoulders.

There was a loud crack and a large piece of the overhead catwalk crashed down just in front of them, spraying them with sparks and shattered glass and sending them sprawling. The flames roared, turning the world a violent shade of orange. Reggie's lungs were immediately clogged with smoke. His eyes streamed. His heart pounded; ribs tight with terror. He really didn't want to die. He pulled himself back to his hands and knees, head spinning from the lack of air. Alex was beside him, coughing weakly. Luke was still lying on the stage, eyes closed. There was a trickle of blood down the side of his face.

"Luke?" Reggie asked, then screamed, "Luke!" when the other boy didn't move. He scooped Luke into his arms, heart hammering. Don't panic!

"What's wrong with Luke?" Alex's voice was shrill. "Is he dead?"

Reggie didn't know. "We have to get out of here!" But they were surrounded with thick walls of orange flame. The heat was stifling; there was no air. We're going to die. What should have been the best night of their lives was going to be their last.

"Reggie," Alex whimpered. He'd grabbed Reggie's upper arm for comfort, tears glinting in the fire's light. Reggie held onto Luke's limp form, eyes wet from smoke and despair. He could feel the panic rising in his chest, spreading like electricity throughout his body. Don't panic! He told himself desperately, but it was too late. The fear built, like a tidal wave of power sweeping through him. It burned like the fire around him, like he was being consumed. He could feel it, screaming at him to Get out! Get out! Getoutgetoutgetout! And then he was screaming out loud as his whole body lit up from the inside. The light engulfed him, Alex and Luke.