Page 111 of Not Quite Dead Yet

She stumbled through the smoke, back to the window, raised her good arm, and struck.

The corner of the stone frame smacked into the window. Glass broke, not from the window, from the photo, one shard still covering Luke, the rest breaking away, glitters of glass catching in the folds of Jet’s jacket.

She struck again, harder, and the window cracked, a spiderweb in a split second, spreading, anchoring itself.

Jet pulled back, aimed for the middle of the web.

She drove the corner through and the window shattered, giving way to the outside world.

Air.

It rushed inside and Jet sucked at it, the cold breeze finding her red-raw face.

The smoke pushed her out of the way, rolling out to claim the sky.

The carpet on fire behind her.

No time, no time to breathe.

Jet smashed the rest of the glass, punching it out with the frame, clearing the bottom ledge.

Then she dropped the photo, wrapped her left hand around the sill.

Pulled herself up onto the ledge, one leg, then two, sitting on the edge.

No time for second thoughts, not even first thoughts.

Jet rolled forward and let go.

She fell, long enough to think,I’m falling.

Hit the roof of the lean-to feetfirst, then her back, winded, all the air forced out of her, the smoke too.

She was still moving, rolling.

Going to roll right off the edge, she couldn’t stop herself, not with one arm and –

Two hands caught her, appearing out of the dark night, strong against the shoulder she could feel, and the one she couldn’t.

Billy pulled her to her feet, standing on the roof of the lean-to, his face dirty from ash, a cut on his neck, trickle of blood, even brighter against the grime.

‘You came back,’ Jet said, voice ragged.

‘You got out,’ Billy said, wiping his eyes. ‘Don’t make me do that again, OK?’ The words shook in his throat. ‘Don’t make me leave you. I was going up inside that window if you didn’t come out of it. That’s not fair, Jet. Not fair.’

A thunderous creak behind them as something collapsed inside the building, whining, crying, feeding the fire.

‘Got to get out of here.’ Billy took her good hand, led her along the lean-to. ‘There’s a dumpster over here with pallets inside, that’s how I climbed up.’

Billy went first, jumping down. Then he turned back, standing on the edge of the yellow dumpster.

‘Sit on the edge and drop down. I can catch you.’

He did catch her, but he lost his footing, stepping back on the shifting pallets, falling over. Jet landed on Billy, head on his chest, rolled off, a corner of a wooden pallet sticking into her lower back.

She didn’t move. Billy didn’t either.

They lay there for a stolen moment, staring up at the burning building.