Wake of the Dead | Two

Chapter Forty-Eight | Killian and Jasper

The couch was a raging match, engulfed in the torrent of angry orange. The fabric was melting away, turning an inky-black color. There was no way the fireplace could have done this. His blurry eyes scanned the living room, until he spotted shattered glass on the floor from a broken-in window. A shattered beer bottle spilled its contents, the remains of a rag among the shards. A molotov? Anger twisted a snarl onto Jasper's lips. Somebody did this, I can only guess who.

Without another thought, Jasper followed the scream into the kitchen, where he immediately skidded to a halt. Harley was on top of the island in the center of the kitchen. Flames licked up the sides of it, covering the whole floor. Another molotov laid with its glass sprinkled across the floor a few feet from the shattered back window. "Harley!" Jasper could barely yell from the smoke filling his lungs. "You have to jump."

"N-no!" Harley screamed. Jasper didn't know if the tears streaking down the young man's cheeks were from the smoke or if he'd actually been crying. "If I jump I'll fall!"

"No, I'm going to catch you." Jasper replied, his voice confident. He really, really hoped he actually could. Harley might not have been strong enough to jump so far. But with his life depending on it, it was possible. Adrenaline could do wonders. "You see the stool? Get on it to move a bit closer and then jump. I'll catch you."

"I can't!" Harley yelled, followed by a loud scream of terror when the flames almost reached the top of the counter. Jasper didn't know what sort of fuel whoever threw the molotvs used, but it had spread fast.

"You don't have a choice, Harley." Jasper was doing his best not to cough or panic. Above him, he could hear the creak of the wooden support beam on the top of the door. "You have to jump, now. If this beam comes down, you're done for."

Harley looked as if he was going to be sick. Jasper's alarm only raised further as he could see pink flesh exposed beneath Harley's dark skin. The fire grew more aggressive, Jasper could see the panic and agony on his groupmate's face when one of the orange pillars of heat grazed across his arm, making the exposed wound even worse. Harley's eyes widened as the stool beneath him was engulfed.

Jasper closed his eyes for a few split seconds. He longed to take deeper breaths and calm himself, but the smoke was already choking out whatever oxygen he could muster. He clenched his teeth then said, "You have to jump as soon as I step foreward, understand?"

The young man widened his eyes, then nodded. Jasper braced himself and stepped into the kitchen. At first there was nothing, but after a few split seconds, searing agony raced up his whole body. He forced his eyes open and Harley jumped from the kitchen island. Jasper caught the smaller man in his arms, almost falling backwards from the impact, but grateful the fire hadn't burned him too badly.

Holding Harley close against him, Jasper could feel the younger man's muscles stiffened from fear. If he made him walk, he'd just be frozen in place. That was the worst kind of fear, the kind that rooted you in place. Back in the living room, the window that have been broken into was gathering snow from the storm onto the ground. With a very small patch of floor exposed, Jasper once again braced himself. It was the only way out—if he caught fire, the snow would put him out. Hopefully. The only thing he'd have to worry about was the broken glass.

There was no second to spare. Gritting his teeth, Jasper jumped forwards past the patch of fire. The bottoms of his jeans caught alight as he tossed Harley out of the window. On his own way out, several jagged pieces of glass grazed both of his arms. He didn't know how deep, he didn't care. He dropped onto the damp porch, falling to the ground. Feeling the fire creeping up his legs, Jasper was immediately relieved when Harley acted quick and grabbed a fistful of snow from the exposed porch steps, tossing it onto the bottoms of Jasper's jeans to put them out.