Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [95]
Steel. In his gut. Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe he'd throw up and the pain would go.
No, a fire raged in his belly like none before. And he couldn't cough this one out of him.
He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. He could hardly think.
Grant was laughing again.
Tommy knew he couldn't let Effie get away. Had to take her out. Properly this time. Save Jordan.
Yeah, that's all he'd wanted to do and he was going to see it through.
He flicked on the lighter and fell on top of Park.
***
EFFIE ROLLED OUT of the way just in time. The flames moved quickly. Already flicking all over her dad, red and orange tongues, butterfly kissing him. Savage was yelling. The flames had found him too. At least Dad was unconscious.
She struggled to her feet, ran around the burning bodies, ignoring the pain from her chest wound, thinking only that she had to find water to douse the flames. There was a bathroom downstairs. She'd have to get down there, find something to carry the water in. Fill it. Bring it back.
Savage screamed. Rolled onto his back, limbs jerking. Yellow flames spread across his sweatshirt.
She didn't have time to fetch water.
Blanket. She could wrap him in a blanket. But there was only one blanket and it was already on fire. All the time, the flames were getting bigger. Smoke now. Getting thicker by the second. The quilt on the bed had caught too.
She stepped back from the heat, coughing. Vicious smell of burning fabric, or maybe hair.
It was too late. She knew it was too late. It couldn't be too late.
It had happened so quickly.
Savage's cries made her bones vibrate.
There was nothing she could do. Not for him. Not for her dad.
Had to save Mum.
Effie looked away. The kid was there, couple of feet to the side. Pointing a gun at her. Struggling to hold it steady. Choking. Eyes streaming.
"Don't shoot me," she said. "Shoot him."
The kid looked at her, eyes wide, uncomprehending.
"If you love your dad," she said again, "shoot him."
Through the sound of the fire, Savage shouted. It sounded like he said, "Grant."
Jordan looked at her once more, turned the gun towards the flames.
And fired.
Savage carried on screaming.
"Again," she said. "Closer."
Jordan moved towards the heat, free hand over his mouth. Fired again.
His dad stopped screaming.
A real bonfire going on now. The bodies burning, the whole bed ablaze.
"We have to get out of here," she said. The kid didn't respond. Kept staring at what was left of his dad. Well, sod the little bastard. She didn't have time to dawdle.
She staggered towards the door. The kid turned, pointing the gun at her, tears cleaning twin paths down his dirty cheeks.
She choked out the words: "We need to leave."
"You'll kill me."
She didn't have time to argue. "Suit yourself." She left the room, lurched along the landing towards Mum's room. Grabbed the door handle.
"Hey." The kid's voice.
She turned.
"You killed my brother," Jordan said. Smoke puffed out of the doorway behind him. "And you killed my Dad."
"Actually, you killed him."
"You stuck a sword through him."
"True. But that didn't kill him."
His gaze dropped to the floor. "I had to do it."
She turned the handle.
"You told me to," he said. "He was burning. I had to. Didn't I?"
"Yeah." She coughed. Spat blood. "You did the right thing. He was in pain. You put him out of his misery."
She pushed the door open, peered inside.
Mum was in a chair looking at the wall, something tied round her mouth. Her hands and legs were bound to the chair.
Effie stumbled over to her, said, "We need to get out of here, Mum," panting, fumbling at the scarf knotted round the back of her mother's head.
Jordan stood in the doorway. Raised the gun.
"You want us to end up like our dads?" she asked him. She pulled off the scarf. Started on the next one. "Help me," she said to Jordan.
As Jordan shuffled towards her, she freed her mother's wrist, started on the other one. "Untie her ankle," she said.
He stared at her.
And she knew what he was going to do.
"Come on