The Great Escape (16 page)

waited for the smoke to get too bad for breathing. She knew that she

looked sometimes out the window at the darkening sky, and

sometimes she looked at the small crack of space between the door

and the floor, watching for the deadly white curls of nothingness that

would snuff out her life.

It came amazingly quickly. She stared at the first thin tendrils,

thinking that the two men must have laid the fire very well for it to

catch so soon. Then the smoke was coming in thicker and thicker and

she started to cough, the acrid smell burning her throat and making

her eyes water copiously—or was she crying for Mike and for herself,

and for the life that she never would properly finish?

Then she could hear the noise, the roaring, ferocious noise of the

mindless monster that crept relentlessly to the sky, eating wood and

home and girl as it went. She wondered fuzzily if her teeth would tell

anyone who she really was, or if she would be buried in an

anonymous grave, all shrivelled and charred and brittle. She shivered

convulsively, unable to imagine the total nonexistence of that

personality the world called Dee . . .

'. . . Dee! . .. are you, for God's sake? .. . Deirdre? Dee, dammit, are

you here? . . . Where are you, girl?'

She turned her head a little on the bedspread, coughed, and wondered

if she was hallucinating the sound, of Mike's voice hoarsely,

desperately calling her name over and over. She must be mad.

'Dee, for God's sake, tell me where you are!'

Her head snapped up. That was no hallucination. That was a

full-throated roar of fear and dread and rage anci—that was Mike.

'Mike!' she screamed. 'I'm up here! Oh, God, they said they shot you

and I thought you were dead and I'm so scared up here—
Mike!'

'Keep calling, Dee, I'll be right there—don't give up . . .'

She heaved right off the bed and landed as hard as she could contrive,

making quite a satisfactory thump. Then she twisted to her back,

ignoring the screaming protest from her jerked and abused shoulder

muscles, and kicked the floor as hard as she could, a steady rhythm of

life and hope and desperation pounded on that naked floor. The

floorboards were warm. The panic that hadn't come when she had

been hopeless came then, a wave of pure terror, and she screamed for

Mike, crying.

Over the steady and inhuman roar from the insidious, white-hot fire,

she heard pounding footsteps in the hall then they stopped. 'Dee!'

Mike shouted. 'Which room?'

'Here!' she sobbed. The handle turned, rattled, and something heavy

slammed into the wood. She heard herself, quite detached in a way, as

she sobbed out a steady stream of hysteria. 'Yes! Yes! Oh, God, get

me out of here—please just get me out of here --'

The door splintered open and he surged in, his dark hair falling like

black rain over a grim brow, his eyes glittering like precious stones,

his mouth pulled into a grimace revealing white teeth. One second

and he was heaving a broad, panting chest in a great sigh, staring at

her crouched on the floor staring at him, and the next second he was

down beside her, hauling her up against him hard, his mouth all over

her face, raining shaking, fierce, thirsting kisses, and she could barely

feel them, because she was kissing him back, anywhere she could

reach him—his jaw, his cheek, his brow and then his lips.

And his lips were crushing hers, drinking, giving, hurting and the hurt

was so deliciously wonderful, so wonderfully alive, she welcomed

the pain. He pulled back, set her on her feet, and she promptly began

to fall, crying out. Mike jerked her into his arms and deposited her on

the bed, wrenching at the tape around her ankles and ripping it off

within a few seconds, then reaching behind her. 'Sorry, I didn't notice

. ..'

'Oh, darling --' she gasped out an unsteady, unamused laugh. She

couldn't feel his fingers. 'It won't do any good. I won't be able to

walk—the circulation has been cut off too long --' The tape was off

her wrists, for her shoulders were suddenly eased from their cramped

confinement, and she brought her hands around to touch them

together tentatively. Nothing.

'Not to worry, my love,' he said, sounding incredibly calm after his

ferocious bellowing. 'I'll carry you. You can't be much of a load, such

a little thing, after all. I'll just sling you up over my shoulder like so,

and we'll be off --' He started out of the door and down the hall,

carrying her, contrary to his words, tightly against his chest, shielding

her nose and mouth. They were forced back into the room as red

angry flames licked wickedly at the stairs. The roar of the monster

was nearly a scream.

Mike shoved at the door with one foot and went to the window after

dumping her on the hateful bed, weak and frightened, tears streaming

down her face. He tried the window, found it nailed shut, so he found

something to wrap around his forearm and smashed it right through

the glass, running his padded arm around the edges to be sure all the

dangerous jagged edges were broken off. Then he surveyed the

outside for a brief moment, and looked back at Dee. He had

apparently made up his mind, and he strode over to sweep her on to

the floor, laughing recklessly down into her face.

'Didn't I tell you not to worry?' he mocked, kissing her hard.

She smiled at him quaveringly, trying to joke, 'I'm sorry, I've just had

a bad day.'

His eyes softened on her unbelievably, then he was moving swiftly,

tearing up sheets from the small bed with a rippling flex of his

shoulders, tying the pieces together in an amazingly short amount of

time. He tied one end to the bedpost, yanking the bed over to the

window and throwing the other end out. It disappeared with a snaking

slither.

He turned back to Dee and wordlessly held out his arms. She rose to

her knees and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pressing

kisses against his jawline and ear. She felt him kiss her back, then he

carried her to the window. 'It's only the second story, love. Do you

think you could keep those lovely arms around my neck for that long,

hmm?'

She drew back, stammering, 'My hands—I can't hold on to

anything --'

He drew one finger down the side of her cheek. 'I won't let you fall.'

And looking into his wonderfully sparkling, vividly alive eyes, she

believed him. She tightened her arms around his neck and he wrapped

one arm securely around her waist, swinging them both over the

windowsill. Then they were dropping into the air, Mike's neck and

shoulder muscles bunching painfully, straining, as he lowered them

both to the ground.

Once down and feeling the incredible destructive heat that had not yet

broken through the outside wall, Mike hauled Dee up into his arms

and carried her swiftly away from the burning, dying house. She held

on to him and buried her face into his hard, warm, moving shoulder.

Some distance away, he stopped and lowered her on to the hood of a

car. Her head surfaced briefly. It was his dark green sedan. She buried

her face again into him, feeling the marvellously good texture to his

skin, smelling his scent, touching him and being held.

He pulled away. 'Dee darling, we've got to call the fire department so

that they can get this blaze under control or the whole wood will burn.

Are you all right, dear girl?' The tender tone and the slightly unsteady

hand that passed through her hair made her gulp, and she nodded,

waveringly. He scooped her up and put her gently into the car,

grabbing a soft comforter from the back and tucking it under her.

Then he swiftly got into the driver's side and reversed down the

driveway with a squealing of tyres. Just as they reached the road and

he turned right, a distant wailing siren was heard. Mike slowed and

pulled off the road, cocking his head and listening intently and Dee

peered down the road briefly, but uninterestedly, because her hands

and feet were coming alive with a painful intensity. Several red-

flashing, wailing trucks passed by, and Mike relaxed, sighing. 'Well,

they got here quicker than if we'd had to call, didn't they?' His head

rested wearily on the headrest and he turned his head to look at her.

'What is it, sweetheart? Are you hurt after all?'

Dee turned her face away as the tears streamed down her face. The

pain was becoming unbearable, and she shifted restlessly to ease it,

but moving only made it worse. 'It's my hands and feet,' she muttered,

as he pulled her close to him again. 'I'm not hurt, but—but they're on

fire, and they prick so painfully, and—that's all. It's silly to cry, and

I've cried so damned much, it seems, but—Mike, I thought you were

dead! I thought you were dead!'

And of all the many experiences of the day, the terrifying, the

infuriating, and the very good, what she remembered most about it

was the darkened early evening when she sobbed out her pain and

tiredness and deep relief into the living warmth of Mike's arms,

smelling pungent smoke in her hair and clothes on a fiery dark and

red, balmy night. The sounds of sirens wailed mournfully in the

distance and an unseen hand stroked her hair.

She wasn't exactly sure when she fell asleep, but she remembered

Mike tucking her carefully into her corner and the car starting up with

a gentle purr. She remembered the passage of time and space, the

wind whistling through Mike's slightly cracked window. She

remembered his stern, drawn face, half obscured by darkness and

occasionally lit up into brilliance by the passage of bright, glaring

cars. She dozed and then remembered the car stopping and him

sliding out of the car. That was when she cried out and reached for

him with both urgent hands, and he soothed her patiently, telling her

he would be right back. Then he disappeared for a time and sounds

came to her of the boot opening and closing. Then he was back as he'd

promised, but Dee was so deeply asleep by that time that she never

even stirred when he bent over to kiss her and tuck a corner of the

blanket under her feet.

She slept on and on and finally woke to sit up and look bewilderedly

around. It was pitch black outside, the black of the dead of night, with

icy white sparkling stars winking overhead. Mike's face was

impassive and unfathomable in the faint glow of the lit dashboard.

She glanced at him, at the unending strip of road that the car's speed

ate up avidly. Finally she looked back at him in time to see him send

her a quick, unexpressive gaze. 'We're on an interstate highway, aren't

we?' she asked him quietly.

He nodded. She glanced around again, and what little scenery that she

could make out appeared to be that found in northern Kentucky. She

turned her puzzled, questioning gaze back to Mike, but he said

nothing.

A myriad collection of thoughts danced through her mind, uppermost

the dread of going back to that homeless house, the uncaring hostility,

the remembrance of Mike as being the hunter, the pursuer, the enemy.

Then she recalled his gentleness to her, his understanding. She

thought of him asking for her trust. Then she deliberately emptied her

mind of all thought and stretched out to put her head against his thigh

as a pillow, curling her legs comfortably. She could feel his eyes on

her, could feel his mind wondering at his reaction, and she turned her

head to smile at him sleepily.

'Wherever we're going, wake me when we get there,' she murmured.

'Unless, of course, you'd like me to drive. In that case, I don't vouch

for your safety or the continued existence of this car unscathed!' She

giggled a bit, then snuggled her cheek down to his warm leg. She

could feel his tension and wondered what he was thinking.

Mike gave a sigh and relaxed. 'You'd be more comfortable if you

stretched out in the back,' he said softly. She put her hand lightly on

his knee.

'No. Would you like me to move? I will if you're uncomfortable.'

He answered as simply. 'No. Oh no.' A hand descended to her

shoulder and squeezed briefly, then was put back on the steering

wheel. 'You stay right there. Thank you, Dee.'

She burrowed into the softness of the blanket, feeling the delicious

contrast between its yielding pliancy and the hardness of his leg

muscle. 'You're welcome.' And again she slept, fitfully, waking

sometimes to his hand resting lightly on her neck.

Some time later the car's motion changed, and she stirred. Mike was

pulling off the highway and he said tersely, 'Lie still a moment. I don't