Chapter 6 - The Ascent from Hell
The tunnel was damp, cramped, and filled with the terrifying vibrations of the structure collapsing above us. I crawled on my hands and knees, pushing Sophie ahead of me through the darkness. The air was thin, tasting of rust and old earth, but it was clear of the lethal smoke that was currently destroying our home.
After what felt like an eternity of crawling through the suffocating dark, Sophie’s hands hit a vertical metal ladder. "Mommy, there’s a ladder! But it’s blocked at the top!"
I crawled up beside her, looking up. The ladder led to a heavy wooden pallet that formed part of the floor structure in the detached garage. I climbed past Sophie, placing my shoulders against the wooden planks above, and pushed with everything I had left. The wood groaned, resisted, and then shifted with a loud scrape. Someone had stacked heavy car tires over the exit, but the sheer force of survival gave me the strength to dislodge them.
I climbed out into the cool air of the garage, immediately reaching down to pull Sophie up into my arms. We collapsed onto the concrete floor, drawing deep, desperate breaths of clean air.
Through the open windows of the garage, the horror of what had happened was fully visible. Our beautiful two-story home was completely engulfed in massive, towering sheets of orange flame. The polycarbonate sheets Ryan had installed kept the fire contained inside like a furnace, burning everything to ash within minutes.
Suddenly, a shadow blocked the side door of the garage.
It was Marcus. He was holding a heavy wrench, his face covered in burns and smeared with blood from the jar I had thrown at him. He looked at us, his eyes widening in pure, manic disbelief.
"How... how did you get out of there?" he hissed, raising the wrench as he stepped into the garage. "Ryan said there was no way out. If you're alive, I don't get paid. I don't get my cut."
I stepped in front of Sophie, backing away toward the workbench where Ryan kept his tools. My hand brushed against the handle of a heavy, industrial nail gun connected to a portable air compressor.
May you like
"Stay away from us," I warned, my voice cold, devoid of the fear that had defined the earlier hours of the night. "The police are already on their way."
"The jammers are still active, lady. Nobody is coming," Marcus sneered, lunging forward with the wrench raised high.
