A Little Bit Pyro

24: Consequently Kissable

Chapter 24: Consequently Kissable

There should be loud rumbling to accompany the avalanche of concrete and steel caving in on itself, but there is only a peaceful silence—if you don’t count the ringing in my ears. I definitely wanted to be far, far away for this part, but I can’t get much of a better view of my workmanship than from here. Most of the debris gets sucked into the collapse, but the rest shoots outward.

Pieces of plaster, wood, and those flaming Beiber pants rocket past, but by a miracle, don't decapitate either of us.  An insistent tugging on my arm draws enough of my attention for me to notice that I’m standing still, watching the show. Millie’s bright eyes—mostly blue at the moment—are the size of golf balls as she pulls on my arm with all her strength.

We timed the blasts to go off in waves ten seconds apart. The next one will be any moment, and it will be much closer to where we are.

I push my legs as fast as they will go, but Millie can’t match my long stride. I push her ahead of me and she stumbles. She’s going as fast as she can, but from the panicked look on her face I can tell she knows it is not fast enough.

Pretty much the only thing we have working for us right now is the fact that the center of the building will detonate first and the explosions will work their way outward from there. At the time, I chose to do it that way to make the building implode instead of explode. At the moment, I’m just grateful for the chance that gives us of escape.

Right before the second round of blasts erupts I dive to the ground, maneuvering Millie so that she’s beneath me with one thing in mind: if she dies tonight it will be my fault, because I’m the one who made the game plan, plus the accompanying HMX and nitroglycerine.

I remember how fragile Millie felt in my arms eons ago in the car when she actually wanted to hug me. Who knows if she would survive if shrapnel hit her? Anything in the room could be lethal when it is propelled at nine-thousand meters per second.

My back stings as the edges of shrapnel pierce my skin, but nothing big enough to do major damage. We wait for the front lines of debris to shoot past and as soon as the worst of it is over I yank Millie to her feet. The last thing I'm worried about is trying to be gentle with her. If we don’t make it out of here before the next wave of HMX then we will both most likely meet with a very painful death. The cement we stand on is already so unstable that it cracks and caves in around us.

It shouldn’t be taking this long. I can do a hundred yard dash in ten seconds, but between time spent lugging Millie toward the door, diving to the ground, avoiding shrapnel, and hurtling the flaming obstacles that land in our path we barely cover any ground.

Millie trips and falls again. Annoyed that she would choose now of all times to develop an uncharacteristic case of clumsiness, I scoop her up and sling her over my shoulder and then sprint faster than I have ever run in my life, even sans angry girl cargo.

The silence is eerie, no longer peaceful, by the time the exit comes into view. Safety is less than fifteen feet away but I won’t have time to get there before the third round of explosions rock the floor. Immediately, I swing Millie in front of me and drop to the ground just in time to shield her from the worst of the projectiles of the third bomb series.