Chicks, Man

An explosion sounds around us, and I duck, the light fixture falling from the ceiling. I struggle to focus, my eyes starting to burn.

“Oh my god. LEVI!” Kipley yells. The anguish etched in his voice causes my next swing to pause midair. “LEVI!!! Fuck, fuck, fuck, HANNAH!”

A sickening feeling washes over me, and I stare down at him, terrified of what I see. “What the fuck have you done?” The words feel surreal leaving my mouth. The flames become brighter, roaring around us, the heat of the beast threatening to burn my clothes to my skin.

Braydon doesn’t answer me. When his lips curl into a sickening smile, I wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze, slamming his head against the old laminate floor. “What have you done!” I scream, the smoke burning my throat.

His eyes are as dark as the smoke. “I made sure you can’t have her either.”

My heart stops. My conscious submerges in fear. I’m frozen, staring down at him, needing him to take those words back.

Two hands grab at my shoulders and thrust me back. “We have to get out of here. The house is seconds away from collapsing.”

“Not before he tells me where Hannah—”

“She’s here. I found her,” he chokes out, his voice dripping with grief. My heart sinks to the bottom of my soul as Braydon becomes an afterthought. I release him, climbing to my feet, needing to get to Hannah.

“Fuck,” Kip howls, trying to fight through the maze of flames. Orange and red engulf the entire floor, and I struggle to see in front of me. Another loud crack, and Kip dives to the side to avoid being singed to death by falling debris.

“You okay?” I call out, coughing with each tattered breath I take. A large enflamed beam separates us, the magnitude of the heat and smoke forcing me to cover my eyes, as I cough.

“I can’t get to her! You have to get to her!” he cries out, pointing to the left. I follow his finger, searching to the location where he’s pointing. The smoke is so thick, I can’t—

“No…”

Paralyzing fear strikes me, almost taking me to my knees. Laying lifeless on the floor, mere inches from the burning couch, is Hannah. My muscles cramp. I can’t move, consumed by the fear of her…not being alive. Kip’s booming voice breaks me from my stupor. I throw myself through the blaze, falling at her still body. There’s no disguising my panic when I see blood. Without worry I may be hurting her, I lift her in my arms, and rear back around. There’s no clear way to the door, but if I don’t make a run for it, we both die. “Hold on, baby. I’m getting you out of here.” I tuck her limp body to my chest and run. I can barely see through the thick smoke as Kip throws himself through the door, making it outside. A fiery ball of fire explodes behind me, igniting a blast of sparks to shoot at my back. My teeth grind, ignoring the searing pain. A series of hissing gushes around me. I hurl myself through the flame coated doorway, and another blast of heat hits me as I dive toward the lawn. My body cradles Hannah as I hit the ground. Sirens break through the hissing sound. The front window explodes, and we take cover, Kipley hovering over us as another barrier for his sister.

Time speeds up, and Kipley rips his sister from my arms. “Hannah…” He lays her on the ground, calling her name, but she doesn’t respond. “Hannah, please wake up. Fuck, she’s bleeding. Where is she bleeding from?” Kipley is on the verge of breaking. His hands are frantic, searching her body for wounds. “Hannah, please! Hannah!” His voice cracks, splintering my heart in two. She can’t be. I refuse to pull my eyes away from her, waiting for any flicker, twitch, any kind of sign.

Sirens become louder, signaling they’re close. The lights of a firetruck bounce off the roaring flames of Clara Hill’s home. I lean forward and press my ear against her mouth to see if she’s breathing.

“Here. She’s bleeding here,” Kip cries. I watch in horror as he pulls her torn, bloody shirt up to reveal a nasty slash in her side. “Jesus, no.” He shakes his head uncontrollably, “Hannah, wake up! Hannah!”

I rip my charred shirt off, pressing it against her open wound. She groans.

“She’s alive. Oh, thank God!” I hold my hand to her side while Kip crawls up, putting his face close to hers. “Hannah, can you hear me?” She doesn’t respond. Come on, give us something. “Hannah, we’re here. Help is here, you’re going to be okay.” Kipley’s voice is shaking, evident doubt in his tone. Without the glare from the flames, her skin is pale. I grip her hand in mine, so she knows I’m here. Her skin is clammy.