A Little Bit Pyro

26: Of Life or Death or Something Inbetweeen

What? Seriously? Did it really take nine months for me to update this friggin story? Yes. Yes it did. So, I'd recommend rereading/ skimming over the past chapter or two to reorient yourselves before taking on this new chapter. And it's a juicy one if I do say so myself, so it will be worth your time. Anyway, sorry it took so long, I've been all wrapped up in potty training, and job hunting, then working full time, and a death in the famliy, then the holidays, and house hunting, and moving, and settling in, and I'm sure I could come up with some other compelling excuses if I put my mind to it. Point is, writing hasn't been at the top of my priority list lately, but the good news is I've got a couple more chapters written so the wait shouldn't be as long next time (I know. If you had a dollar for everytime I said that...). And as always, this hasn't really been edited, so pardon the typos and other errors you may encounter. Anyway, enjoy! Thanks for sticking with me!

Chapter 26: Of Life or Death or Something Inbetween

Within a minute the fire burns through the CH4 in the air and it recedes to the cabinetry and walls, blackening, charring, destroying huge swaths of my lab as it goes. If this were any other place in the world I would enjoy the show, but I am closer to crying than I have been in years, and it has nothing to do with the smoke stinging my eyes.

This position on the floor, flat on my stomach trying to weather the worst of the fire and debris, is so familiar I can't help chuckling. All of the injuries I received last night while hunkering down in this same pose reawaken at once, the burning heat amplifying the pain which is kind of funny too. My chuckle becomes a full out laugh.

It just seems fitting that this would be how my lab meets its end. Poetic even.

I roll over, facing the fire with my uninjured front. My watery eyes roam the room, trying to discern through the smoke one last glimpse of my favorite beaker set, and bunsen burner collection. The flames spreading across the ceiling mean that it is time to go, unless I want to put myself through the same experience as the guy who became the corpse in the warehouse. But still I don't move.

I've never believed that a person would be attached enough to something as mundane as a boat to want to suffer a watery death with it. Right now though, going down with the ship, or in my case the lab, sounds glorious. Worry free. My future in jail, my family, the mafia, girls, it will all go away if I just stay here and experience fire first hand.

The smoke and fire suddenly change direction, reaching past me through the gray. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain I'm aware that the fire and smoke behaving like that means that the room is no longer sealed, that the fire has found a fresh supply of oxygen and the smoke is running to somewhere with lower barometric pressure. But then I hear the voice, quiet compared to the roaring of the fire in my ears.

"Ref!" The following curse is loud enough that I can understand it, clearly. My eyes scan the smoke for the shape of the intruder. "Ref! Where are you, man?" And then Anton comes into view, hunched against the burning heat.

What's he doing here?

He's stumbling closer with his t-shirt covering his mouth and nose. He's close enough to trip on my legs before he sees me.

"Dude!" He grips my arm and yanks me off the floor. "What are you doing?"

For a moment I don't answer because I can't decide if I'm angry that he ruined my escape plan, or relieved. Without stopping to debate my decision I turn him toward the door and then push him until I'm no longer choking on smoke.

"Leo, baby! Hablame! Dime donde estas!" Mom's hysterical shouts stop me in my tracks but Anton pulls me around the back of the lab and out of view, and then keeps going until we reach the edge of the yard. He's half way over the fence before he realizes that I'm still on the ground, watching him go.