Then a boom like thunder, but not thunder.
Deuce shifts on the mattress, then stills. “Shit!” He throws his legs over the side of the bed and scoops up his jeans. “Get dressed. Fast.”
Jumping off the bed, I locate my jeans at the foot and drag them on. The popping continues along with a whooshing sound, followed by the smell of smoke.
Deuce grabs my arm, steers me out of the bedroom, and we both freeze at the sight of smoke seeping under the door.
“Don’t touch it,” he warns, then bolts into the bathroom and returns with two wet washcloths. He hands me one, then pushes me behind him. “Stay back.”
He feels the door, then puts the cloth over his nose and mouth, twists the doorknob and slowly opens it. A waft of smoke enters the room but no fire.
He grabs my wrist, then keeps me behind him, guiding us down the smoke-filled hallway. When we hit the stairs, I stop.
“Wait! I have to go back.”
“What?”
“I have to get something out of my room.”
“Forget it.” He grabs my arm. “We gotta get outta here.”
“No. I have to go back.”
“Whatever it is isn’t worth it.”
“Not even five hundred thousand dollars?” I pull out of his grasp and backtrack to my room. I fling the door open, race to my bedroom, crouch down and drag out the garbage bag.
“What the hell?” Deuce grabs it from me and looks inside. “Holy shit!”
“I don’t think you want that to go up in flames.”
“Where did you . . . Fuck it, let’s just get outta here.” He swings the bag over his shoulder and drags me out of the room.
The smoke in the hallway is thicker, and when we reach the staircase, it’s consumed in flames.
“Get back,” Deuce barks, grabbing my wrist as another window blows out.
Smoke bites the back of my throat, chocking the air out of my lungs. We make it back to Deuce’s room, and he kicks the door closed.
“We’re trapped,” I yell over the crackling of the flames.
He grabs my face in his palms. “We’re gonna get outta here.”
Another blast rocks the building. The floor shifts beneath us.
Deuce jogs into the bedroom, and a minute later he returns with the mattress, then shoves it against the door, slowing the smoke.
We stare at each other for a second, and then I remember. I dash into his bedroom, and he follows me.
“Push the bed away from the wall.”
He drops the plastic bag, then shoves the bed frame to the side, exposing a window.
DEUCE
The fire escape. Half rusted, swaying, but holding. Shady wanted to tear it down, but with everything else, we never got around to it, and I forgot about it.
“Go,” I order her, but she doesn’t move.
