Disclaimer: Here's another chapter. I know that was a pretty evil cliff-hanger back there but this will answer some of your burning questions (no pun intended). You know I couldn't just leave Mary in a burning house all by herself right?
This story is near completion. Thanks to all those that have waited oh so patiently to see what happens next.
Hobey-Ho, let's go!
Never Give Up, Never Surrender
Mary saw a large pile of debris crushing her legs. She heard another rumble and it sounded as if the house were breaking apart. Then it went black.
"Mom," Brandi breathed in fear.
Jinx stopped walking and turned to see what her daughter was looking at.
"Oh my god," she said in the same shocked tone.
"Mary!" Brandi cried out as the roof of the house caved in; a great cloud of black smoke flew up and flames sputtered.
"Oh my god!" Jinx screamed, nearly dropping Marshall. "Mary!"
Awakened by the harsh voices, Marshall lifted his head and struggled to focus his eyes on the commotion. He blinked several times and was finally able to make out the breaking house. The fog that had claimed his mind evaporated at the sight. He was awake now.
"She wasn't still in there was she?" Brandi asked in a panicked voice.
"I don't know," Jinx answered, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Mary?" Marshall asked in a voice that hadn't been used in a long time.
Jinx and Brandi jumped at the sound of his voice.
"Where's Mary?" he asked, his voice growing stronger as fear slowly awakened his numb body.
"She went back inside," Brandi explained, tears streaking her ash-coated face.
He was fully alert now. "What?!" he snapped.
"I ask her to get a picture of her father," Jinx sobbed.
Marshall wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the house that was collapsing. The house that Mary was still in. The house that was going to be her grave if something wasn't done.
"Call the police," Marshall ordered. He pushed his supporters away and ran, stumbling, back to the house.
He was dimly aware of the cries the issued behind him, but he was focused on only one thing: Mary.
Keeping his wounded hand close to his side, Marshall rushed into the house, coughing loudly in the smoke. He bent down and made his way forward slowly; cautiously. The roof was already gone. Who knew what was going to give in next.
Marshall moved blindly, waving his good hand in front of him to locate the floor, doorways, and obstructions. It was tediously slow and he grew more and more impatient at the passing time without a clue of Mary was.
If she was trapped – which was the most likely case that explained her absence – then she didn't have long before the fire claimed her. The smoke would get to her first.
Determined, Marshall kept moving, feeling for anything that would set him in the right direction towards Mary.
He heard a strange noise that sounded as if the house was groaning. It wasn't going to stay up much longer. Marshall moved faster but was careful. The floorboards were already shattering under his feet and bits of the second floor were tumbling down onto him.
Suddenly, his foot hit something hard. Curious, he gave it a sharp kick and it rattled, causing the objects around it to splinter in protest.
Marshall squinted up and could faintly make out a whole in the floor above. The roof had fallen through here. Now, it blocked his path.
Marshall got down on his knees and shifted through the debris, trying to clear a path so he could continue searching. The wood splintered into embers in his hands. The splinters burned and dug into his skin but he kept moving the wood aside. His burnt hand was held uselessly against his chest.
Then, he felt something soft. It wasn't as hot as the wood around it but still warm. Marshall examined the object with his fingers. The soft object split into five longer pieces: fingers.
Adrenaline pumping, Marshall knelt down and waved away the bothersome smoke to make out the fingers. They were connected to a pale hand. Marshall followed the hand along the arm to see that it disappeared under the pile of wood.
Marshall dug in with both hands without hesitance. His hand burned with pain and it seared up is arm but he didn't care. He scratched, tugged, and shoveled away the wood, slowly revealing a shoulder and finally a head.
"Mary," he whispered in a voice barely audible to his own ears.
Mary's pale face looked up at him with closed eyes and a slightly open mouth. Small cuts and bruises marred her features. Her blonde hair was black with ash.
Marshall continued digging as more of the house collapsed around him. He freed Mary's waist and hefted a beam off of her legs. Gasping, Marshall dragged Mary's limp body towards him. He slid his arms under her and lifted her as he rose to his feet.
He took a second to look at her impassive face, covered in ash, then turned and headed back to the door. He stumbled constantly and leaned against the walls for support, Mary clutched firmly in his arms.
Marshall kept his eyes forward and his feet moving. The door was a small patch of light in the distance, beckoning him to hurry. Marshall tried to run but his legs wouldn't go faster than a trot with Mary's weight holding him down.
Suddenly, he heard a great cracking sound and looked up just in time to see a mass of wood come sailing towards him. Instinctively, Marshall threw himself forward.
He landed on the floor heavily; the boards groaning under him. The wood impacted where he had just been standing, sending a wave of splinters shattering in all directions. Marshall turned his back to the missiles and clutched Mary to his chest.
He felt something sharp imbed itself in his back and he yelped in pain. A sticky, wet substance trickled down his back. Marshall looked down warily to see a shining pool of blood soak his waist. It hurt but he didn't have time to worry about it. He could feel Mary's heart beat against his chest. She was still alive and he was going to make sure that she made it out alive.
Marshall scrambled back to his feet, groaning as the pain flared across his back. He moved forward as more wood fell around him. He was almost out. Just a little more…
His feet gave out.
Marshall collapsed to the floor. His body was no longer responding to his orders. He lifted his head to look at the door, now cloaked with smoke.
So, this was how he was going to die: trapped in a burning furnace with his still breathing partner. He wondered which would get him first: the heat, the smoke, or the flames. He didn't like the options. He didn't want to die in pain especially not if Mary was still alive. He had to at least get her out. Then, maybe dying wouldn't be so bad as long as he knew she was going to live.
Marshall unwrapped his good hand from Mary and clawed at the floorboards. He pushed with his feet and moved forward slightly. He reached out his hand again but this time it stayed there. He pushed with his feet again but barely moved.
He didn't want to die like this. He had to get out. But his body had already given up. He could shelter Mary with his body for a while, at least before the police came. She might make it. She would be furious at him for giving up, but she could make it.
Before Marshall could have another thought about his impending doom, two small hands grabbed his and roughly pulled him forward.
I'm so sorry. I know I beat Marshall up pretty badly, but don't worry. "Marshall, he's tough."
"You have no idea."
Ha-ha. Just a little quote from Stan and Mary's conversation in the hospital Marshall was recovering at. Wonder who remembers that. I happen to have a photographic memory, so I do.
Stay tuned!
