Page 58 of Protecting Christina

“Jake! Will!” Jager shouted from the doorway. “The fire trucks are on their way, but you’ve got to get out of there now.”

Christian had brought a small extinguisher with him, which we kept in the truck. It wouldn’t put out this inferno, but it might buy us some time.

“I’m not leaving without the women.”

“They’re here?” asked Christian.

“Yes.”

“He thinks he heard them beneath the wooden floor,” said Jake between coughs, then ran his hands along the wooden slats near the front stairs.

Jager ran into the house and got on his hands and knees, looking for anything that would indicate there was a crawl space lurking underneath these floors. Christian sprayed the area around us, keeping the worst of the fire at bay.

I glanced at the carpet on the other side of the kitchen, and my heart sped up. If I were to hide a crawl space, I’d do it beneath a carpet. I ran toward the rug and threw it back. A small black lever was nestled between two wooden planks. I yanked it up and opened the hidden door.

I inhaled sharply and immediately started coughing. With hardly any air left in my lungs, I breathed out, “Oh, my God.”

Christina

Minutes earlier…

From the back of the house, Christian pushed Simon forward as he dragged his feet. Lifting on my tiptoes, I looked left and then right for any sign of my sister or Will.

But there was no one else.

I ran up to Christian, but he didn’t look my way. “What’s going on? Where’s Will?”

Christian handed Simon over to one of the police officers who pulled out his handcuffs. I ignored the grin on Simon’s face and grabbed Christian’s T-shirt, crumpling it with my fist. “What the fuck is going on in there?”

“Will is looking for your sister and the other women. He believes they’re still inside.”

I sniffed, and this time, the smell of smoke was even stronger. “Is that smoke coming from the house?”

He answered solemnly. “Yes.”

Then he swallowed and pursed his lips. “I’ve got to get back in there. Call for fire trucks.”

After grabbing an extinguisher from his truck, he ran back to the house and entered through the front door this time.

When he opened the door, he had to duck as a rush of smoke flew out.

“Oh, my God,” I cried and covered my mouth with my hand.

I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

“Hello. 911. What’s your emergency?”

“There’s a house on fire and there are at least four people inside. The address is 119 Delaware Street.”

“Ok, ma’am. I’ll dispatch a fire truck. Is anyone hurt?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s OK. I’ll send an ambulance, too.”

“The police are already here.”

Just then, a loud crash came from inside the house. “I’ve got to go. Hurry!” I shouted and hung up the phone.

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