It is showing you the way, said a voice in my head. It actually is.
But the rational side of me shut that voice out. The wind was shaking the branches, that was all.
And as they shook, I caught a glimpse of a space between. A line of light, stretching between the pines. Just a glimpse, but it was enough.
I barrelled forward into the trees, branches raking my cheeks and scraping my scalp. The path was narrow but clear, like one of those magic-eye paintings that suddenly reveals itself. I thrust forward. And there it was before me.
The old cabin.
Thick smoke poured through the broken windows. The wind chimes hung from the porch, swinging wildly. The front door stood open and I could see flames dancing within. There was no sign of anyone. No Carl, no Buddy or Darlene.
‘Frankie? Ryan?’ I called their names and waited. Nothing.
I ran up to the door and peered into the front room, squinting through the thick smoke. The heat hit me hard but the fire wasn’t yet out of control. There was an open door to the left which revealed another room that burned orange, smoke pouring through into the front room. It seemed that whoever had set the fire had started it in the room to the left, then fled before it reached this room. Perhaps they had intended to set fire to all the rooms but had been scared off by the flames, which looked like they would come roaring into the front room at any moment.
I looked down at my clothes. I was soaked through. My skin was drenched too. Surely that would provide some protection. I wasn’t certain, but I had no choice. My daughter could be in here.
I went inside.
I could barely see. My foot bumped against something, and I looked down and saw a dark shape on the floor. A body.
It was Carl, lying on his side, the back of his shirt thick with blood. Dead.
‘Frankie?’ I called again.
I couldn’t hear anything above the crackle of flames to my left and the roar of the wind outside. The manic cacophony of the chimes.
‘Frankie?’
There was an open doorway on the far side of the room, straight ahead of me. I went inside. There were no open or broken windows in this room and the smoke was thicker, filling the air, making it almost impossible to see anything. I retreated back into the front room.
‘Frankie!’ I called again, as loud as I could.
And I heard it. A faint voice, coming from a long way away. ‘Here.’
‘Frankie? Frankie, where are you?’
‘Dad!’
‘Where are you?’
‘Down here! Beneath the hatch.’
I covered my mouth and nose with my sleeve and followed the sound of Frankie’s voice. There was so much smoke I couldn’t see anything. A hatch? Where was it? I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled forward, patting the floor in front of me. I heard a roar in the room I’d just left. Fire bursting through and taking hold. Soon, it would be in this room. I ought to get out. But this was my daughter. I would do anything. Risk third-degree burns; sacrifice my life.
I bumped into something. A heavy, old-fashioned armchair. I shoved it aside and my hand found something metal. A large ring.
I hesitated. I assumed the basement would be full of oxygen. If I opened the hatch, would the extra oxygen feed the flames and cause them to rush into this room? I glanced over my shoulder and watched orange consume the room I’d just left.
I had no choice. I had to risk it.
‘Get on the floor!’ I yelled. ‘Cover your face.’
Bracing myself, I opened the hatch. The flames stayed put. But it was getting hotter. I had seconds. I stuck my head through the gap. Again, there was so much smoke I could hardly see.
‘There’s a ladder!’ Frankie cried. ‘We need the ladder.’
Her words were followed by a volley of coughs. Two people coughing, presumably her and Ryan.
I groped around on my hands and knees. The ladder. Where was it?
‘Dad, please, hurry!’
My hand fell upon something solid and wooden. It was a ladder, lying on the floor. I pulled it towards me with one hand, feeling for the opening to the hatch with the other. Blindly, barely able to breathe, I manoeuvred the end of it into the gap and stood, gripping its sides, almost dropping it as I lifted it above my head and it made contact with the ceiling.
‘Stand back,’ I yelled.
I dropped the ladder through the gap, letting it slide across my palms, scraping the skin. I heard a thud far beneath me as the ladder struck the floor of the basement.
‘Come on!’ I screamed.
Ryan climbed the ladder first, coughing and spluttering. I helped drag him out. The front room was burning but there was no other option. I thumped Ryan on the back. ‘That way. Run.’