Page 27 of London Inked Boys: The Complete Trilogy
Besides, a part of me doesn’t want to leave the shop. At least when I’m here, I can lie on my sleeping bag, staring up and knowing Tess is only on the other side of the ceiling.
I do just that settling down on the floor next to the counter, watching and listening for the movement of her above me.
Iburst from sleep, coughs hacking their way through my body. My ribs contract with the volley of coughing, my throat burning. Tears stream from my eyes. I cover my face with my hand, instinctively ducking my head down, trying to figure out what’s going on. Confusion blurs my thoughts and I roll off the sleeping bag I use as a bed and clamber to my feet. Immediately, whatever is attacking my lungs grows worse, and the coughing clutches my throat and chest again. I drop back down to the floor, on my hands and knees, my head hung. My eyes continue to stream, but at least I can breathe down here.
My mind starts to put together what’s happening. The room is full of acrid smoke. Something is on fire.
Instantly, my thoughts go to Tess, sleeping upstairs. Is she okay? Smoke rises, and she might be unconscious and completely unaware of what’s happening. From somewhere deeper in the building, I can hear a low roar, like distant traffic. Overlaying the roar comes a snap and pop, and something cracks.
Fuck. Why haven’t the smoke alarms gone off? I try to think of the last time I checked them, but can’t remember.
Indecision freezes me.
Should I find the fire, and try to put it out? Those few minutes might cost Tess her life, and I’ll never forgive myself if she dies because I haven’t acted quickly enough. I can already feel the heat rising up from the floor. Knowing I need to act, I fumble around and find my mobile phone. I dial nine-nine-nine and ask for the fire department, and manage to hack outthe address between my coughing. The woman on the other end of the line asks me to stay on the line with her, but I hang up instead and try Tess’s number. It rings out, and goes to answer phone.
“Shit.” The heat has grown worse. Knowing I’ll need to protect my feet, which are currently bare, I scramble around and locate my boots, then pull them on. I need to get to Tess.
I know the shop better than any other place in the world, but the smoke completely disorients me. If someone had asked me if I’d be able to find my way around in the dark, I’d have answered categorically yes. In the smoke, things are different however. My body is fighting to survive, and this makes coherent thought a struggle.
I lurch in the direction of the door which separates the rear of the studio from the backyard and the stairs leading up to Tess’s flat. Something slams against my thighs, rebounding me off like a pinball in a machine. I stagger, grasping out blindly. My fingers meet with a wall and heat surges through my fingertips. Where is the fire originating from? I can’t see any flames in here, so I assume it’s from something out the back. I use the wall to find my way to the back of the studio, navigating a couple of the chairs we use to tattoo clients on as I go. I find the door to the rear of the building, and immediately the heat becomes more intense. Fuck. The fire must be originating in the room we use to take our breaks, where the coffee machine and under counter fridge freezer are located. I knew that wiring was bad. Is that the cause or has one of the guys left a lit cigarette, or something else? I might never find out if I don’t survive this.
I open the door, the handle hot beneath my hand. Just across the small hallway is the rear exit and freedom. The staffroom is partly located under the stairs. The door is shut but warped with the heat. Smoke billows out from the gap beneath, and through the smoke I can see the red and orange flames dancing behindthe glass. The staircase will be the first thing to go and when it does, Tess will be trapped.
Panic fills me. I can’t lose her. Not like this. Not after what happened with Rebecca. I can’t let fire take away another woman I love.
I open my mouth to call her name, but the smoke catches at the back of my throat and sends me into another coughing fit. I stagger for the stairs. The wooden banister is hot enough to smoke and I snatch my hand away. The heat from the fire below sears up through the soles of my boots. I take the stairs two at a time, and quickly reach the top. The smoke is still thick, drifting up in tendrils.
I ball my fist and hammer on the door. “Tess! Tess!”
The yelling causes more coughing.
There’s no answer, and no sound beyond the door. I hate to think of her lying in bed, unconscious.
With no choice, I take a step back and ram my shoulder against the door. Pain shatters through my shoulder, but I ignore it. I wish I had more of a run up, but the door is right at the top of the stairs. Even so, I take a couple of steps down and try again. This time, I hear a crack and the door bows.
“Fuck!” I yell, adrenaline surging through my body, keeping me focused. I charge again, and this time the lock splinters, and the door flies open, sending me hurtling into the flat beyond. I manage to keep my balance, my arms pin wheeling.
“Tess!” I yell again.
I head straight for the bedroom. The smoke isn’t as thick up here, but I still have to blink tears away to see where I’m going. The heat increases again as I reach her bedroom. The bedroom door is open. If only it was shut, it would have offered her another layer of protection against the smoke.
Her body is a bundle beneath the blanket and my heart lurches.
“Tess! You’ve got to wake up. There’s a fire.”
I shake her, hard. She moans and tries to roll away from me. She’s hot, her skin filmed in sweat, the t-shirt she wears clinging to her skin.
I throw back the covers and bend down and scoop her up. If that staircase goes—which it’s liable to at any moment—we’ll be trapped up here.
“Art?” she says, coming round, wriggling in my grip. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a fire downstairs. We have to get out of here.”
Instantly, she grows alert. “What?”
“There’s a fire. We have to go.”
“Shit. Put me down.”
