Chapter Eighteen
“Jesse, wait!”Bryce tried to catch Jesse’s arm, but he was out of the car before Bryce could stop him.
And, of course, he headed for the apartment building.
Bryce groaned in frustration as he popped open his car door. He caught up to Jesse as he shoved his key into the security door. “You can’t go in there. We need to call—”
“My shit is burning. If you say one word about the DWO—”
“911!”
Jesse wrenched the door open. “Yeah, you call them. I’m going to do something about the fire.”
Bryce made to grab Jesse, and once again Jesse slipped through his fingers. Damn everything, why couldn’t Jesse take two seconds of precaution? He ran for a staircase, and Bryce hurried after him.
A tiny stream of people filed down the stairs, occasionally blocking their path up. As Jesse pushed his way through, there were shouts. One man had his arms filled with video game consoles, and he nearly dropped them when Jesse forced his way past.
The fire alarm bleated its warning at an ear-piercing volume, and still Jesse ran up to the fourth floor.
Any hope they were wrong about the fire ended when they reached the right landing. Smoke filled the hallway and the constant roar of flame competed with the alarm. The fire hadn’t reached the hallway yet, but Bryce noticed that smoke billowed out from more than one apartment door. The situation grew worse by the second and there was no way to tell how much of Jesse’s apartment was burning.
Bryce wrapped his arms around Jesse and used his weight to make him stop running forward. “We need to get out of here!”
“The journals!” Jesse struggled, and he pulled at Bryce’s arms, trying to dislodge him.
“They aren’t worth your life!”
“If there’s a chance, we have to save them,” Jesse pleaded.
“You have backups!” Bryce pulled Jesse toward the steps.
Jesse had frantic strength on his side. He slipped Bryce’s grasp and ran down the hall.
Bryce coughed. The smoke was closing his throat, threatening his lungs. He bent lower, but struggled to see through it.
The smoke didn’t seem to hamper Jesse as he unlocked his apartment. He reached for the knob and pulled his hand back, and then used the bottom of his T-shirt to grip it. Unburdened by the door, the smoke poured out, filling the hall. Jesse pulled his shirt over his nose and went in.
Bryce couldn’t let Jesse go alone. He made his way forward and crouched near the door. “Jesse!”
Jesse was coughing and bent over a box. Bright flames licked the wall where his desk had been, and more flames roared through the apartment. The piles of papers were ash floating on the air, and the cardboard boxes were going up, too. But Jesse clutched the box in his hands and shoved it toward the door.
Bryce grabbed it from him, hoping he would abandon the rest, but Jesse grabbed one more box. When Jesse neared the door a second time, Bryce pulled him farther into the hall.
“We have to go,” Bryce said hoarsely. Every word felt like he was screaming.
“But—”
“It’s gone!” Bryce’s box felt heavier than it should, but he was having trouble breathing. “I’m sorry. But it’s gone!”
A fresh wave of flame roared out from the bedroom, and Jesse clutched the box in his hands and nodded.
Bryce slid along the wall, using it to guide him through the murky dark. He nearly tumbled down the stairs, but Jesse caught the back of his shirt. They made their way down and out into the muggy air.
Sirens filled the night, and the crowd of people near the building stumbled out of the way of the incoming fire trucks.
Bryce and Jesse worked their way through the crowd to Bryce’s car. Bryce tossed his box into the back seat, and took Jesse’s from him when a coughing fit took over. Jesse leaned over the hood. After Bryce shut and locked the door, he went to Jesse’s side and tried rubbing his back.
“Steady,” Bryce murmured. “Steady.”
