Easy Innocence

Chapter 43

A SHRILL sound woke Georgia. Dimly aware she was still on the couch she rolled over and fumbled for the cordless.

"Yeah?" She croaked, her eyes still closed.

No one, she thought groggily. Damn. When would these hang-ups stop? She tossed the phone back on the floor. A band of pain shot around her head, and she felt hot and sweaty. Had she turned up the heat last night? She should go into her bedroom. It was always cooler there. Slowly she opened her eyes.

Light flickered behind her head. For a moment, she was disoriented. Then a smoky, roasting smell assaulted her nostrils. She shot bolt upright and jumped off the couch. Flames were licking her curtains, producing waves of thick, black smoke. She sucked in a lungful of hot, acrid air. The fire was contained to the curtains, but it was moving quickly. And she didn't have a fire extinguisher. She ran to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and drenched it in water. Tossing it over her head, she backtracked to the living room and threw open her front door.

Shit. She shouldn't have done that. The sudden draft fanned a new line of flames that crept across the floor to the sofa, the same sofa she'd been sleeping on just a moment ago. She bolted into the hall. The fire alarm box was on the opposite wall. She smashed the glass and pulled the lever. A piercing siren blasted through the building. She banged on her neighbor's door.

"Fire! Everyone out! Fire!" She shouted. "Someone call the fire department!"

Her neighbor across the hall, a graduate student at Northwestern, opened his door. A portable phone was glued to his ear. His roommate hovered behind him. Both were in t-shirts and boxers. "I just called."

"Good. I'm going up," Georgia yelled. "Get the first floor on your way out."

The men sprinted down the steps. Georgia slammed her door closed and raced up to the third floor. She banged on Pete's apartment. "Pete. Get out. There's a fire!"

A woman with a panicked expression opened the door across from Pete's. Inside a baby was crying.

"Take the baby and go," Georgia shouted. "Now!"

The woman nodded and spun around. "Okay, sweetheart. Mommy's coming."

Georgia looked downstairs to the second floor. Despite the fact that she'd closed her door, curls of smoke were seeping under the edge. Eventually, they would rise and balloon out on the ceiling. If she kept low to the floor, she'd be okay. Pushing the towel further down on her forehead, she pounded on Pete's door again.

"Pete. Wake up! Now!"

Georgia counted to five, then banged again. Pete's neighbor charged past her, the baby in her arms. "I haven't seen him all day," she shouted as she hurried down the stairs. "Maybe he's not home."

Georgia stopped. If Pete wasn't home, she was wasting precious seconds. She should get out of the building while she could. But Pete had a broken ankle. He was on crutches. She thought about breaking down his door and doing a quick search. But that would take time.

The smoke in the hallway thickened and started to billow on the ceiling. She tasted grit. It was getting hard to breathe. She threw herself against the door one last time and beat on it until her knuckles were sore. "Pete Dellinger. If you're in there, get the hell out. There's a fire!"

Another ten seconds went by. Smoke blanketed the air, and heat pressed down on her. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. She looked back down the steps. An uneven light under her door told her that flames had reached the wall. She couldn't wait any longer. She sprinted down the steps two at a time. She had just cleared the second floor and was on her way to the first when she heard a latch turn upstairs. A thin voice called out.