“But—” Layla started to protest, and Mark could see the fear in her eyes.
“We’ve no time to argue. Take the shirt. Put it over your mouth and get down those stairs before they give way. I’ll be right behind you,” Mark repeated and prayed that Layla would be persuaded.
She nodded once and adjusted her mother’s Bible in her arms. She took Mark’s shirt and wound it around her hand, holding the cloth to her mouth as she ran toward the staircase.
Mark wasted no time running after her, but he stepped carefully on the stairs. They were already compromised, and he didn’t want his weight, combined with hers, to push them too far. He stayed two steps behind her the whole way.
When they emerged in the sitting room, Layla jerked to a stop. He bumped right into her, and her head knocked against his shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and he realized that he could see her as she nodded in response. Now, not only was the kitchen consumed in flames, but the dining room appeared to be lit as well. The flames danced around them, long tendrils moving up the doorframe from where they emerged. Layla coughed deeply, and a sheen of sweat grew thick on Mark’s forehead.
“Layla, you have to move. You must keep going. I can see the front door from here now. Go straight toward it.” She held the flannel shirt to her face, and overtop of it, her eyes were shining with tears. “Go, Layla! I’m two steps behind,” Mark yelled as he gave her a gentle push toward the door.
She moved forward, and he followed right behind. He was so caught up in Layla’s progress toward the front door that Mark rammed right into the dining room table. His hip caught on the edge, and he leaned over, his hand flying to the throbbing spot. He groaned but looked up in time to see Layla escape out the front door. The sight briefly pulled him away from his pain. He clutched at his hip, motivated to follow her. But then, there was a peculiar sound overhead.
It sounded like a burnt crust of bread was being torn apart by his hands. Mark moved quickly away from the table and heard a portion of the roof, and the house’s second story crashed behind him. Layla shrieked from outside, and he knew the home must be crumbling around him, even though he couldn’t see it.
One hand on his aching hip, he kept the other out in front of him to prevent himself from running into anything else. Despite those efforts, he stumbled. His lungs were full of the black smoke, and it took all his effort to lift his legs and keep moving toward the door. What appeared as a bright spot just moments before now looked like a dark, gaping hole.
‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want,’Mark recited internally as he took small steps toward the doorway.‘He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.’
The throbbing in his hip subsided. The spirit of the Lord was inside him, and that gave him the strength to keep going. With both hands out in front of him, and wandered through the smoke-filled room.‘Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil;my cup overflows.’
He gasped, his lungs screaming for fresh air, but Mark kept moving forward.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Mark!” Layla screamed. She stood just steps from the porch, gaping at the ruin that had once been their home. The roof collapsed, and she knew that Mark was near where the bricks and wood would have fallen. She squealed his name once more, her lungs burning from the smoke that filled them. The house creaked dangerously in front of her, and she stepped back but then stopped.Mark’s still in there, she thought.I have to save him.
She spun to look for her father and the baby. The two were illuminated by the flames licking the top of the roof. Layla rushed toward them. “Papa! Heath! Are you both all right?” she asked, moving the Bible and Mark’s shirt around in her hands so she could run her hands over the baby’s face.
“Yes, yes, we’re fine,” Emmett said. “But where’s Mark?”
“He’s still inside,” Layla groaned, then bent over and coughed loudly. It was as if the smoke were attacking her lungs, forcing her to lose control over her thoughts and body. “I’ve got to go back inside,” Layla gasped when she was able to speak once more.
“No!” Emmett argued forcibly.
“I have to save him,” Layla responded. She put her mother’s Bible in her father’s hand, and he blinked at her, dumbfounded. He was utterly overburdened now as he struggled to hold the heavy book and Heath.
“You can’t,” Emmett said, doing his best to juggle the load she pressed upon him.
“I love him!” Layla shouted as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“You can’t sacrifice yourself for him now. You’ve made too many sacrifices already. Mark is a strong man. He will get out of there safely, but you … you …” Emmett choked as another round of coughs bubbled up in his throat, but he blocked Layla’s path. “I can’t let you go back in there. Mark would want me to keep you out here … to keep you safe.”
“But I have to get back in there,” Layla cried, her hands trembling and her shoulders shaking. Large droplets of tears coursed down her face, leaving streaks as they trailed through the dirt and smoke that covered her cheeks. Squaring her shoulders, she set her determined expression. She prepared to march back into the house.
“No,” Emmett repeated firmly, planting his feet in front of her. “You need to be here. You need to be with the baby.”
Layla’s hands shook as she touched Heath’s face. Her hands, covered in dirt and grime, left smudges on his cheeks. “But I can’t stand here and do nothing.”
“Then don’t!” Eliza’s voice floated out of the darkness.
Layla whirled to see Jack and Eliza running toward them across the yard.
“Eliza!” Layla called out. She peered through the darkness to see that Jack and Eliza weren’t the only people emerging as if from the shadows. In the glow of the moonlight, she could just make out a stout little woman shuffling across the sand, and she thought Billy’s silhouette was not far behind.
“I’m here, Layla. Tell us what to do,” Eliza said firmly, taking Layla’s hands in her own.
