Page 62 of Soul on Fire
He pushed Ikolo up first, following on his heels. Darkness wreathed his vision, closing over him as he coughed. There wasn’t enough air, not with the billowing smoke and the roaring flames chasing their every move. The air burned as hot as a volcano eruption, lava pouring down his throat like he was drowning. Kerosene and burning concrete fumes made him dizzy as poisoned air slipped into his lungs instead of oxygen.
Ikolo made his way over the rubble and through. Elliot followed, watching Ikolo’s shape as the darkness closed in. He fell down the far side of the rubble, rolling over the ragged remains of the station.
Ikolo grabbed him, and Elliot could just make out his face, soot-covered, wet with tear tracks, and streaked with blood.He’s so beautiful. I want him to be the last thing I see.
“Get up!” Ikolo shouted. “We have to keep going!” Ikolo’s voice seemed to fade away and disappear as a black curtain descended over Elliot.
Then Ikolo’s lips were on his, forcing air into his lungs, one breath, two. His eyes flew open and he gasped, sucking in air that was only there in fractions, fire-hot and burning his throat.
“This way!” Ikolo got him on his hands and knees and pushed him forward, heading down the narrow hallway Carter had brought them through only hours before in the dead of night.
Everything at the front of the station was gone, blown away. The rubble beyond the gate was nearly impossible to navigate, but the smoke was less.
The shattered station had come apart completely near the front and was still yielding to gravity and the explosion. Chunks of ceiling continued to fall, giant slabs of concrete breaking off like trees falling in the forest.
They scrambled over the debris to the potholed road and fell to their hands and knees, coughing until Elliot puked.
The station was gone, the entire front half of the building blown away, along with almost the entire rest of the block. Windows were destroyed everywhere, shattered glass strewn on the road. Walls made of concrete had tumbled like toy blocks. Motorbikes parked along the street were blown across the road, tumbled end over end and charred to a crisp. Some were on fire themselves, oily black smoke billowing from their frames.
Fire raged up and down the street. Brittle concrete succumbed to the flames and fell into the blaze. Flames roared with each collapse, shooting outward and trying to reach the crowd of onlookers that had formed to gawk at the devastation.
If the crowd decided to work together, they could stop the inferno. If not, the entire block would burn to the ground. There was no fire department in Kisangani.
Ikolo kneeled at his side, running his hands over Elliot’s body, trying to take his pulse and check him for injuries all at the same time.
Eyes were turning to them, the crowd staring. They’d watched them crawl out of that building. They were still watching, muttering to each other as they pointed to Ikolo and Elliot and pulled out their cell phones.
“We have to get out of here,” Elliot croaked. He pulled Ikolo’s hands off him. “We have to run. Now.”
“You’re hurt—”
Elliot pushed to his feet, clinging to Ikolo. Something gave way in his knee. His hands were still wet with blood, slipping on Ikolo’s skin. “Run.Now.”
He leaned on Ikolo as they took off, more a hobbling jog than an all-out sprint. Shouts rose behind them, angry cries from the crowd. In seconds, they’d shift to a mob. He and Ikolo had to get away, get off the streets, and hide. Where was the rest of the team? They must have heard that explosion. The boom was as loud as a jet fighter breaking the sound barrier. It would have traveled all through Kisangani, all the way to the airstrip.
Were Carla and Jim still alive? Should they head their way?
He looked back. Several men had broken off from the crowd of gawkers and were following, bellowing at them. Fuck, they had to move. He tried to force his knee to work. Agony radiated up his leg. He gritted his teeth as Ikolo wrapped his arm around Elliot’s waist and shifted more of Elliot’s weight to him.
Squealing tires on pavement made Elliot turn. There weren’t many cars in Kisangani, but the station had two 4x4s. Was Carter coming back for them? Had Carla and Jim escaped the airport?
A jeep screamed down the road and swerved around the crowd and the angry men stalking him and Ikolo. It crunched over shattered glass and blew past a burning motorbike. The jeep’s windows were tinted dark and were impossible to see through. It was clean, freshly washed, and painted black.
Neither station vehicle was clean or had tinted windows. Their 4x4s were bought from Kisangani and blended in with the city.
This was someone else coming for them.
Elliot gave it his all, a full-out sprint that made him scream out loud. Ikolo did everything he could to hold him up and sprint alongside. But the jeep caught up, passed them, and squealed to a stop in the middle of the road, blocking their path.
He pushed Ikolo behind him and drew the pistol he’d taken from the station. His stance was off, but he dropped back and raised his weapon, taking out the slack in the trigger as a man jumped out of the driver’s seat.
The driver held up his hands as he saw Elliot. He was a short and thick, a bull of a man, but strong. His stomach was flat, no flab on his body. He moved with precision, and his dark eyes fixed to Elliot, holding his stare. He ignored the pistol aiming for his forehead. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help you.”
“Who are you? What just happened?” Elliot bellowed. “Who attacked us?”
“My name is Bai Ji. I’m with the Chinese Ministry of State Security.”
Elliot gripped his pistol, adjusted his aim. Squeezed the grip. “Did you attack us?”
