He turned on the night vision on his rifle scope.
The staircase to the kitchen spewed smoke like a chimney, forcing them to use the front stairs to descend. He moved in tandem with Sloan as if the two had worked together for some time, their training creating seamless teamwork that earned Sloan significantly more of Razorback’s esteem than Sloan’s sense of humor ever had.
The rifle scope was Razorback’s only window into the world downstairs, and even that was limited by the smoke that burned his lungs like acid with every breath.
He was aware of his increasing distance from Jackie and Selena, the image of the woman and child stuck in his head like a photograph to a corkboard. They reached the bottom of the stairs, Razorback in the lead, and he held his weapon at the ready as he checked the room for tangos. He rounded the bend into the hallway that led to the kitchen and office beyond, the crash of breaking glass ringing out over the crackling of the hungry flames just out of sight.
It was hot, light from the fire barely penetrating the dense air, and he wished for the gas mask he’d opted not to bring on this journey, and his body screamed for oxygen.
He hunkered down, crawling on his belly past a small den toward the kitchen, his rifle in prone position and Sloan still on his six. A portion of the kitchen was now in view, an eerie glow growing brighter as they approached.
The fire was in the office.
The den window shattered with a crash, shards landing on the wood floor in front of him. One side of the den burst into flames, flaring like a match to a vat of accelerant and scorching his exposed skin with heat.
Molotov cocktail.
Was that how the office fire had begun? Was SVX even in the building, or had the sensor been tripped by a makeshift bomb? He moved quickly, scanning ahead of him as he went. The air was worse here, not air at all but solid exhaust, waste. His lungs fought against it even as they burned. He reached the threshold of the office, light now blazing brightly through the darkness, walls and floor aflame. The ceiling joist overhead was exposed and burning, the wood ceiling already gone.
All he could think about were Jackie and Selena upstairs alone, forced to choose between the spreading flames and the windows, which could only lead to certain death. He turned to Sloan, yelling to be heard over the roar of the fire. “They’re not here. They’re just trying to smoke us out.”
Sloan nodded, shifting direction and moving toward the back stairs as another cocktail sailed through the kitchen window and exploded with a blast of fire and heat, setting Sloan’s hair ablaze. He flailed frantically and screamed.
Time stopped for Razorback. He could feel it, remember every sensation, and he was suddenly desperate to help this man who had become his friend. He moved quickly, removing his shirt as Sloan tried to smother the flames with his hands on pure instinct. Razorback used the fabric to extinguish the fire.
The moment it was out, he pushed Sloan. “Go! We have to get to Jackie!” He tried to yell, but his voice was hoarse and the sound weak. Sloan moved. The second explosion had alighted the back staircase, flames quickly spreading up the walls and treads.
They had to go back to the front of the house.
The men scrambled, every moment seeming to last an hour as they fought their way back to Jackie. At the bottom of the stairs, Sloan hesitated, and Razorback passed him, anxious to make the climb as quickly as possible. But Sloan didn’t follow.
“Get up!” Razorback screamed, finding his voice this time but losing layers of tissue in the process. Sloan lifted his head and met Razorback’s stare, the light of the fire reflecting off his eyes, his expression one of surrender.
“Motherfucker,” Razorback grumbled, throwing this rifle onto his back and grabbing Sloan under the arms. “Get up, do you hear me? I was just starting to like your sorry ass.” Sloan was two hundred pounds of solid muscle, and Razorback’s blood was starved for oxygen. Lifting him was brutal, and he growled with the effort it took to drag Sloan up the steps.
He was nearly at the top when he saw Jackie. “Ian!” she yelled. She was crawling in the upstairs hallway, a white towel covering her mouth. “We have to get out of here!”
Any moment now, there would be gunfire. HERO Force would arrive and do what they could to take out SVX or at least distract them. But if they crawled out a window before that, they were as good as dead. “We have to wait for HERO Force. Where’s Selena?”
Jackie led the way and he followed, pulling Sloan to into a large bathroom, the window open to the outside. Selena sat in the tub, coughing repeatedly, a washcloth held to her nose and mouth. The floor tile was uncomfortably warm under his body, a testament to the fire below and the time they had left to survive. He closed the door behind Sloan, noting the other man’s eyes had closed.
“Did you get HERO Force on the phone?” Razorback demanded.
“Yes.” She handed him two washcloths before moving into the tub to hold her daughter. “How bad is it down there?”
He didn’t answer with words, only looked at her.
“We can’t wait much longer, Ian.”
“I know.” The chopper had been close. The team had to be on the ground, mere moments away from rescue. Would they figure out what had transpired and know what he needed them to do?
His mind spun through possibilities, trying to find some way to get them out of here safely, but there was nothing. Unless HERO Force arrived, they would need to go out the window and take their chances like targets at a firing range.
He moved to the small window, inspecting it as best he could without putting his head in a sniper’s line of sight. Exiting through the window would be a tight squeeze for him and Sloan, but certainly possible. He frowned. Sloan was in no shape to break his own fall, which meant Razorback needed to find a way to get him down.
Heavy smoke seeped beneath the bathroom door, far more than when they first entered. He wet a towel, tucking it under the door, the tile beneath his hands nearly hot enough to burn his skin, and he tucked another beneath Sloan’s head.
Another minute, maybe two, before they had to make their move. Jackie’s eyes locked with his. “Get ready,” he said.
