"Run, Dallas!"
"Where's Tyler?" He screamed, desperately looking around. He couldn't see anything over the red flames that covered the room. He could hear the sound of roamers downstairs, growling and bumping into just about everything. The sound of glass shattering and the growing flames sparked a fear Dallas had never felt before.
"In the car with mom! Now get out!" His fathers scream brought him back to reality. He tried his hardest to gaze into the fire, hoping to see a glimpse of the man. Screams burst out from the room his father was last in, and he couldn't stay any longer. His heart was practically screaming agony along with his father. He knew he had to leave; Tyler and his mother were depending on him to bring the medicine.
Smoke was filling his gaze, making his eyesight a bit off. He ran as fast as he could, bumping into various things. It stung his legs when he would hit a counter, but a small injury like that would be nothing compared to all the smoke in his lungs if he paused. At one point, he gasped as he tripped, stumbling forward and only just barely catching himself on an unstable chair.
He coughed, tearing up as he ran. The front door was right there, right in sight. He just had to make it through the kitchen.
A romer stumbled into his narrow line of vision, right through his way out.
Dallas had no weapons to defend himself with, giving his mom the last knife in the house. He panicked, eyes darting around for any sort of weapon.
Flames had started to enter the kitchen, climbing the cream colored walls in seconds. There was nothing other then plastic silverware that littered the countertops. The few glass cups that sat about wouldn't be too helpful either.
More romers stumbled in, making the front door impossible to get to. They hadn't noticed his presence yet, the flames proving to be more distracting. They attempted to catch the fire in their hands, catching themselves in the fire as well.
They turned to face him, and fear built up in his tightening chest. He reached for the table, and shoved it against the kitchen doorway. He knew, with it being wooden, it didn't have long.
He held his breath, and ran to the kitchen window. He pulled himself up, despite not having too much upper body strength.
Flames came closer as he struggled with the window. After finding it locked, he unlocked it and tried to shove the glass up. When this proved not to work, as it seemed stuck, he angled his elbow, and slammed it into the glass with his face looking the other direction. He moved away the shattered glass that remained, and gripped the window pane as he prepped himself to jump onto the counter.
The warmth was unbearable, and he tried getting out as fast as he could. The table had started to burn,
"Dallas!" His mother screamed. He heard the car door slam shut as he lowered himself out of the window, holding onto the ledge as he waited for his mother. The fall would surely be enough to twist his ankle if he didn't land correctly, so waiting on his mother to safely lower him seemed like the better option.
In those moments, his left hand felt frozen. Only for a few seconds, before an unbearable heat overwhelmed him. He screamed, letting go. His hand was burned, probably scarred.
His mother caught him, taking them both to the ground. She quickly sat up, pulling him up as well. She didn't bother looking at his hand, instead tugging him to the car. He all but threw himself into the back seat, not bothering to care that his younger brother got the front.
