Through the Smoke

Sadie

My eyelids feel fused together, sealed shut by a thick, gritty film. A sharp, acidic sting bites at my corneas the second I force them open. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision, but the heavy gray haze filling the room refuses to shift. My brain struggles to process the sensory input. This makes no sense. I went to sleep in my own bedroom, tucked under my own heavy duvet. Why does the air taste like ash and melting plastic?

I rub the heels of my hands against my eyes. It only makes the stinging worse. The fog in the room grows thicker by the second, shifting and rolling across the ceiling like a living creature. A foul, noxious odor invades my nostrils. My throat tightens in an instant. A sudden, violent spasm grips my chest, forcing a harsh cough from my lungs. The cough tears through my windpipe, leaving a trail of raw fire in its wake.

A muffled thumping echoes from somewhere beyond my bedroom door. I strain to listen over the rushing sound in my ears. The voice is distorted, frantic, and barely audible through the heavy wood. It sounds like Ben.

I push myself upright, my hands sinking into the mattress. I sweep my gaze across the room. The hazy confusion in my mind shatters, replaced by a massive jolt of adrenaline. It hits me square in the chest, knocking the remaining breath from my lungs. That is not fog stinging my eyes. It is smoke. My bedroom is filling with thick, choking smoke.

"Garrett!"

I swing my arm out, reaching for my husband. My hand slaps against empty sheets. The mattress is cool to the touch on his side. Opening my mouth to call out his name again proves to be a terrible mistake. The toxic air rushes into my lungs, sending me into an agonizing fit of coughing. My chest heaves. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision. I press both hands over my mouth and nose, curling onto my side as my lungs scream for oxygen.

I stare at the empty dent in the pillow. He is not here.

"Sadie!"

The frantic pounding against my bedroom door intensifies. The voice cuts through the roaring in my ears, loud and unmistakable now. It is Ben.

"Sadie, wake up!"

I throw the duvet off my legs and scramble to the edge of the bed. My bare feet hit the hardwood floor. I crouch low, remembering basic survival instinct, and scurry toward the door. The air near the floor provides a fraction of relief, but the smoke descends fast, pressing down on me.

"Sadie, can you hear me?"

"Ben! What is going on?" I shout back.

I reach up and rip my cotton robe from the hook on the back of the door. I ball the fabric up and press it firmly against my face, trying to filter the deadly air. Another brutal cough rips through me. A wave of intense dizziness washes over my brain. Pure, unadulterated terror floods my veins.

"Sade, the house is on fire! You have to come out!"

Deep down, my subconscious already knew. The signs were impossible to ignore. But hearing the words spoken aloud makes the nightmare real. My house is burning. I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the urge to panic.

I suck in a breath through the cotton robe, preparing to face whatever hell awaits in the hallway. It is a massive miscalculation. The superheated air bypasses the fabric, searing my throat and lungs. I double over, clutching my knees as a fresh wave of racking coughs takes over my body. My ribs ache. My eyes stream with uncontrollable tears.

"Sade, come on! I am right outside your door! You can do this!"

I force my breathing to slow, taking shallow, careful sips of air through the robe. I lift my trembling hand and wrap my fingers around the metal doorknob. The brass is warm. I want to pull my hand away, to retreat into the corner of my room and hide, but I swallow the scream building in my throat. I twist the handle, yank the door open, and stumble forward.

I crash hard into a solid chest. Strong arms wrap around my shoulders, catching me before my knees hit the floorboards.

"I have got you. You are okay."

Ben holds me upright. I press the robe tighter against my mouth, peering up at him through watering eyes. His face is smeared with dark soot. He has a torn piece of shirt pressed over his own nose and mouth.

"Ben, where is Garrett?" I gasp out the words.

"He is downstairs, remember?"

The memory flashes through my panicked mind. Right. He went downstairs.

"We need to get moving, Sade. Now!"

Ben does not wait for me to argue. His tone is hard, demanding action. I wipe the hot tears soaking my cheeks and give him a sharp nod.

"Get down on the ground. We are going to crawl our way out."

I drop to my stomach without hesitation. The hallway carpet scrapes against my bare knees and elbows. We move like soldiers navigating a trench. The smoke hovers just inches above us, a thick black canopy that threatens to swallow us whole if we dare to lift our heads. I fix my gaze on the heels of Ben's boots. He scrambles forward, his breathing ragged in the suffocating space.

The heat radiating from the walls grows more intense with every inch we crawl. The air grows darker, thicker, turning the familiar hallway into an alien landscape. I cannot see the family photos on the walls. I cannot see the railing. I keep my eyes locked on Ben's shifting feet, using them as my only anchor to reality. The journey to the staircase should only take seconds, but it stretches into an agonizing eternity.

We finally reach the top step. Ben shifts his weight, spinning around to sit on the edge. I mirror his movements. We slide down the wooden steps on our rears, bumping hard against each tread. Halfway down the staircase, the temperature spikes. The smoke morphs from dark gray to pitch black. The source of the fire is definitely down here. The air crackles with intense heat, drying out my skin and singing the tiny hairs on my arms.

My feet hit the tile of the foyer. The front door stands mere feet away. Escape is right there. A simple turn of the deadbolt, and we could be breathing fresh, cool air. But I am not leaving this burning house without my husband. I look at Ben. His jaw is locked, his eyes scanning the smoke. He is not leaving without Garrett either.

"Garrett!" I scream into the dark house.

"Garrett!" Ben echoes my shout.

We turn our backs to the front door and rush toward the lounge. Ben grabs the brass handle and shoves his weight forward. The door refuses to move. It bounces back with a heavy, sickening thud.

We throw ourselves at the wood. I slam my palms, my shoulders, and my knees against the barrier. Ben kicks at the lock, the sole of his boot slamming against the frame. It does not budge. The wood holds firm, refusing to yield a single inch.

"There is something behind it. It feels like something is blocking us from getting in."

Ben steps back, chest heaving. His words send a fresh spike of terror through my chest. Why would the door be blocked? Why would furniture be shoved against the only exit?

"What if the fire is in that room? What if the ceiling caved in? What if Garrett is—oh my god! Garrett!"

I lose my grip on reality. I claw at the doorframe, desperate to tear the wood apart with my bare hands. Ben reaches through the smoke, grabbing my wrists. He pulls me back, forcing me to face him.

"Sadie, we have to get out of here."

I open my mouth to scream a refusal, but the smoke rushes in, triggering another agonizing coughing fit. I double over, gagging on the ash. Ben keeps a firm grip on my arms, holding me steady.

"I know you do not want to! I do not want to either! But we have to leave, Sadie. We have to!"

I blink through the stinging tears. I can see the raw agony etched into his soot-stained face. Leaving Garrett behind is tearing him apart just as much as it is destroying me. But I refuse to accept it. I refuse to walk out that front door.

I pull a deep reserve of energy from somewhere deep inside my burning chest. I rip my arms out of Ben's grip. I take a step back, lower my shoulder, and launch my entire body weight at the stubborn door.

Just before my shoulder makes impact, a loud crack echoes through the hall. Ben materializes right beside me. We hit the wood at the exact same second. The combined force of our bodies finally shatters the resistance. The wood splinters. The door groans, giving way just enough to create a gap.

My triumph turns to sheer horror in a fraction of a second.

A monstrous wall of thick, oily black smoke explodes through the opening. It is a thousand times worse than the haze upstairs. It hits me like a physical blow, choking the life out of my lungs. The idea that Garrett has been trapped inside this toxic inferno makes my stomach heave. He cannot be anywhere else. This is where he went.

My brain turns to mush. The edges of my vision warp and tunnel. I am moments away from losing consciousness. The heat is unbearable, baking my skin and searing my eyes. Beside me, Ben is choking, his harsh coughs vibrating through the floorboards.

We do not retreat. Driven by pure, frantic adrenaline, we throw our battered bodies against the splintered door one last time. The hinges scream. The barrier collapses inward, dumping us into the lounge.

I land hard on the carpet. The smoke is so dense it feels like swimming through ink. I cannot see the sofa. I cannot see the windows. The room is a blind, suffocating void.

"Garrett!"

I scream his name again. The effort costs me dearly. I inhale a massive lungful of black smoke. I gag, my stomach twisting violently as I dry heave onto the carpet. Every muscle in my body trembles. My strength is bleeding out onto the floor. I cannot keep this up much longer. Ben cannot either. We are running out of time.

"Sade! Over here!"

Ben's voice is a raw, jagged rasp. It comes from the far side of the room, near the wall.

"He is over here!"

I dig my fingernails into the carpet. I drag my heavy legs behind me, crawling blindly toward the sound of his voice. My chest burns with every millimeter I advance. The darkness presses against my eyeballs. I bump into an overturned table, scraping my ribs, but I push past it. I refuse to stop.

My outstretched hand brushes against denim. I grab Ben's pant leg, using it to haul my upper body forward. I drag myself up beside him, fighting to keep my eyes open, desperate to see my husband's face.

I look down at the spot Ben is hovering over.

I strain my eyes against the blinding sting of the smoke. I wait for the outline of Garrett's body to appear. I wait to see his chest rising and falling. I wait to see his face.

But there is nothing.

Just pitch, unending blackness.