Chapter 7

Thanks so much for the kind and inspiring reviews!!! Please R&R.

Choking on the black smoke that filled the air, Steve and Jesse had well-founded doubts as to whether or not they would make it out alive.
Before the friends reached the creaky old staircase, a blazing inferno surrounded them and blocked their escape. Steve backed up slowly and Jesse quickly followed his example. The heat was almost unbearable; it felt as though they were being baked in a hot oven, alive. They had to get out of here- fast.

If that wasn't enough, an monstrous creaking sounded from above. Jesse was the first one to notice it; Steve was too busy surveying the flickering flames, planning a possible escape. He glanced up and the sight horrified him; the already not sturdy roof was caving in, a large section dangerously sucked downward.

"Steve," Jesse whispered frantically, "run!"

Steve stole a quick look above and started to run blindly, Jesse flanking him. With a boisterous crack, part of the roof cascaded to the floor. Then, for the two terrified men, all went an eerie, yet peaceful, black.

Mark sat in his wooden chair, fidgeting uncontrollably. He'd just called Cheryl not long ago and he didn't want to bother her again. They had probably been done with finding clues and gotten something to eat..

The small TV in the kitchen interrupted his thoughts. It showed an ancient building engulfed in viscous flames, eating away wood... Wait a minute! The building was familiar to him... how?

"...apartment complex broke out in flames a while ago, but was not noticed until..." a young, female reporter droned out.

That was where Steve was... the apartment! They must have been trapped!

Without hardly even giving a thought as to what he was doing, he ran to the granite counter top and hastily snatched up his car keys. He was going to help Steve.

Jesse came-to with a mighty groan and realized he was underneath a pile of debris- the roof! Steve! He quickly made an attempt to sit up and push the offending material off of him. As he did so, his head started to spin and his vision got a little blurry. His skin was flicked with several splinters and cuts, but nothing major.

"Steve!" he called out rapidly, eying the ruins and the ever-present fire, growing to mammoth proportions by the second.

A stifled moan was his only reply, coming from somewhere under the rubble a few feet away.

"Hang on, Buddy," Jesse told him calmly, "I'll get you out."

Steve made a vain attempt in trying to remove the shingles and wood that lay strewn across him, but the weight proved to be too burdensome. With the assistance of Jesse, the weight was removed in good time. Jesse realized immediately, much to his dismay, that Steve's arm was bleeding- again.

"Thanks, Jess," Steve droned, wincing in pain, "Let's get out of here."

"Steve, you're bleeding. Do you know how hard I worked to put those stitches in?!" Jesse tried to lighten the atmosphere in the some, while helping Steve to his feet.

"Yes, I am. I think that board over there did a nice job of opening it back up," Steve stated sternly, whilst painfully, gradually getting to his feet. He flinched and instinctively drew his hand to cover his side protectively.

"Steve, you probably cracked a rib," Jesse voiced his concern as they gazed around for any exit.

"So I've noticed," Steve mumbled through his ragged breathing.

The blaze stood ominously, obscuring all possible exits they could see. The smoke was getting thicker, darker, and the simple task of breathing became increasingly difficult.

Then a sudden thought struck Steve. He had seen an unsafe, broken fire escape outside, hadn't he? Well, a fire escape was a fire escape.

"I have an idea. Follow me," Steve ordered softly, creeping down a hallway littered with wood fragments, flames scorching both sides. They covered their mouths with their shirts, but it didn't filter out the choking fumes very well.

Steve and Jesse neared an old windowpane, where Steve thought an exit might be. Carefully, he trudged over to it and peered out. Well, there was a fire escape but it was a few feet to the left of the window, and they were on the third story. It was risky, but better than sure death.

After an abrupt search for a tool necessary in his intended task, Steve contented himself with a large, seemingly sturdy board.

"Steve," Jesse questioned, staring incredulously at Steve and his fruitless effort of trying to lift the wood with an injured arm, "What are you doing?!"

"I need to smash this window open," he replied briskly, continuing his impossible task.

"Are you crazy?!! Why in the world would you do that?! It will just fuel the fire with more oxygen!" Jesse couldn't see any rationality to Steve's plan.

"There's a fire escape out there. It's our only plan at survival," Steve spoke evenly.

"Alright, alright! But let me do it, OK. You'll not likely get it far with an injured arm."

Steve finally, if grudgingly, gave up and let Jesse take over. After a slight struggle, he managed to pick up the bulky piece of wood. Aiming it squarely at the glass, he took off at a running, or as close to running as he could, towards the window.

A clanging shattering overpowered the taunting crackle of the forever-multiplying fire. Shards of glass soared out into the fresh air and the two got an overwhelming, yet heavenly breath of air not completely filled with smoke.

"I'll go first," Steve volunteered, walking towards the window and preparing himself for an unpleasant climb.

"But, Steve, you're hurt. I should go," Jesse protested, placing himself in between Steve and outside.

"Do you have any experience with dilapidated fire escapes and long jumps?" Steve asked sarcastically as he easily pushed past his friend.

Jesse sighed and moved out of the cop's way. He could really be stubborn sometimes!

Steve carefully lifted one leg out of the window, taking care not to rest it on any broken, jagged glass that lined the pane. He rested his foot on a thin cement ledge, bracing himself for an excruciatingly painful jump. It was now or never. With a mighty push-off, Steve made a daring dive to the left and slightly downward, towards the unstable metal escape.

He hit the metal with a loud thud and, momentarily was stunned by the pulsing fire that ran through his body. It was all he could do to stifle a yelp as he stood up. Man, his arm hurt! So did his chest.

"Steve! Are you alright?!" Jesse from asked a couple yards away, terrified for his friend.

"I'm... fine," Steve gritted out, "It's your turn."

Jesse peered even further out the window, not at all liking what he was being forced to do.

In a flash, he jumped out into the warm air and flew, for all of two seconds. He landed beside Steve with a slight thump, causing the rusty metal platform to quiver.

Jesse quickly recovered and stood up also, grasping what used to be part of a railing for support.

Jesse looked down at the distant black pavement and experienced a sudden wave of vertigo. Steve, however, glanced downward to see an extremely broken ladder leading to the ground. It didn't look like it could support even a small child.

"Uh, Jess, look," Steve spoke gravely, pointing to the practically useless metal.

Jesse, biting down the last bit of nausea, took a careful step forward and gazed at the ladder.

"Oh, no. How are we going to get down from here?" he asked, still staring at it as if looking at it would somehow fix it and make it usable.

"I have no idea. But at least it's better than being in there."
Mark drove like a madman to get to the apartment. If he had it his way, he wouldn't have obeyed any traffic laws at all. Cheryl was on her way and there were already firetrucks outside, trying to put out some of the fire before the whole building collapsed. He was going to find his son and Jesse- and he was going to find them alive, he hoped.

What did you think? Any suggestions for the next chapter? Please review!