Fun and Games - Duane Swierczynski [49]
Before he pulled away from the window, however, Hardie happened to glance down.
He instantly wished he hadn’t done that.
Mann glanced up to see Charlie Hardie looking down at her through the open window, twenty feet up, calm as can be. And if you’re in a burning house, the last thing you should be is calm.
He even waved.
Somehow Hardie must have figured out what they were up to, and he started the fire himself. Even if he killed them both in the process. Unbelievable the balls on him.
For once, Mann wished she carried a gun. There were many (many) reasons why they shouldn’t, but if Mann had a gun, then she could lift it and squeeze off a shot and explode this guy’s heart, just for screwing with them.
“Having fun, Charlie?” she shouted up to him.
Then Hardie disappeared from view, into the haze and smoke and darkness of the bottom floor.
Hardie pressed his back against the wall, stomach sinking to the bottoms of his feet.
Lane was right. They were everywhere. They weren’t afraid of the sirens. They didn’t give a shit. They just wanted the two of them to come outside, where they could finish them off… somehow. He didn’t see Topless carrying any weapons, but that didn’t mean a thing.
Hardie’s mind reeled. If they did jump down, and if they weren’t instantly stabbed or Tasered or sprayed or shot or bludgeoned or electrocuted or irradiated with a mini tactical nuclear weapon… could they make a run for it? Down to the house on the next hill seemed to be the best option. But that’s where Topless seemed to have set up camp. She was lurking around down there, and no doubt with friends. Uphill seemed to be an even worse idea. Was it possible to run to either side? Hardie tried to remember what the landscape looked like. The geography up here confused him, none of it made any rational sense.
What was the alternative, though? Stay and burn? No. They had to jump now.
“Lane, c’mon.”
Nothing.
“Lane?”
Everything is going to be okay.
Everything is going to be okay.
Like a mantra:
Everything is going to be okay.
In Catholic grade school a priest once told Lane—whose name was Lorianne back then—Lorianne Madinsky—that God never gave you more than you could handle. As bad as things might seem, He knows you’re strong enough to deal with them.
Lane had stopped being a Catholic back when… well, long before she’d stopped being Lorianne Madinsky. But some of the belief structure was still there, hardwired inside her mind, and it served to explain how the universe worked when there were no rational or obvious explanations.
So if she was supposed to endure all of this… it had to be because she was strong enough to endure it, that she was somehow meant to endure it, and that everything would be okay.
It had to be. Otherwise God would have killed her years ago, right?
So Lane crawled back into the secret closet.
“Lane!”
Where the hell was she?
Hardie dropped to his hands and knees. Visibility was getting bad on the bottom floor. Had she already succumbed to the smoke? No, if it had hit her, it would have hit him, too. Hardie checked under the bed—nothing. He scurried over to the opposite corner, and all at once he realized where she’d gone, damnit.
Hardie charged into the secret closet just as the smoke began pouring into the bottom floor in earnest, gathering up at the low ceiling and working its way down. He could hear the sirens now, too, but he didn’t think that would do them much good when they were sucking in noxious fumes in a matter of seconds. Smoke was going to fill the room in under a minute. They had to get out of here.
Or he could just lie down and die.
Because that’s what you did before, isn’t it, Charlie? You thought you were so big and bad, pushing yourself up off the ground, sneaking out the back way, then storming your way to the garage and firing up the car and smashing through your own doors and hauling ass all the way out to Nate’s place, bleeding all over your upholstery. But that’s okay. Because you thought you were some kind of hero. And look how that turned out. Now, go ahead. Lie down and die.