Thank you for all your reviews. I hope you like Chapter Eight. Please don't flame me! Ha ha! Like what I did there? XP

Chapter Nine – Great Balls of Fire

Jack pulled away from the kiss to stare at the girl beside him. She smiled lovingly and wrapped an arm around his waist loosely.

"I'm glad I met you, Jack Mercer." She whispered.

Jack stared blankly at her for a moment, not used to such open affection, but then his face changed into a happy smile. His cheeks turned a dusty pink and he ducked his head. He ran a hand across the girl's cheek as she giggled softly.

"I'm glad I met you too." He said back quietly. She kissed his cheek and her hair brushed his face. He wrinkled his nose as it tickled his chin and then sweeping her hair over her shoulder, she turned around and caught sight of a formless grey musk seeping through her door.

"What is that? Is that smoke?" She sat up alarmed.

Jack sat up too, but before he had a chance to react Heather was off the bed and heading to the door.

"Maybe I left something cooking." She said, slightly wary. Pulling on the door handle she yanked open the door.

Jack choked on his own breath and recoiled as an intense heat threw him back on the bed. He jumped up quickly and when he overcame the shock, his ears were pounding from a piercing scream. He glanced at the door and jerking like a fish on a hook was Heather, engulfed in a flame. It had leaped upon her when the door was opened and she was helpless against the attack.

"Heather!" He screamed and leaped towards her. She was wailing and squealing, throwing her body around, vainly trying to escape the scorching heat of the fire. Jack paled and his mind began shutting down, but an instant affection and concern for the girl made him holler to think. He grabbed the bed duvet and wrapped himself round the girl, pulling her to the ground. His hands burnt and he could have yelped from the pain, but he clung on and rolled over and over again until the fire suffocated and died out, leaving a smouldering, blistering body behind.

Tears flowed from the boy's eyes and sweat formed all over his face. His whole body trembled and the adrenaline rush was so extreme he felt physically sick.

"Heather. Heather!" He sobbed. The girl was nearly unrecognisable. Her skin was patches of charcoal black and crusty red and pink. She lay motionless on her back and Jack watched for the rise of her chest. He waited anxiously for any sign of movement. None. None. And, then, had he seen it? Did her chest really rise? He couldn't touch her neck for a pulse in fear her skin fell off. He cried loudly and watched her again. There! There was hope, he had seen it. She was breathing. She was alive. He was pulled from his personal nightmare, by the noise of a cackling and cracking noise and suddenly fear flooded into him. He glanced at Heather and decided to leave her alone. He needed to see what was happening.

He stepped towards the doorway and whimpered as he looked out. The stairs were alive with fire; the thick, smouldering smoke was already clogging his throat. He dropped to his knees and blinked and screwed up his eyes as the heat singed his face. Falling back he dashed to Heather's side and hugged his knees in a vice grip. The panic and shock had him a grey/white colour and his eyes were like saucers. A buzzing went off in his pocket and he jumped, startled by his mobile. His breathing increased rapidly and his chest felt tight. He could hardly answer the call, his hands shook so badly.

"Help!" He gasped down the phone, tears stinging and itching his face. The smoke was crawling into the room, slithering slowly. He couldn't see the fire, but the room felt hot and he could hear it laughing and taunting him, melting wooden furniture to black lumps of ash.

"Jack?"

"Help!" He cried again, this time a sob ripped from his throat. He couldn't even recognise the voice down the phone. Everything had happened so fast and his mind was racing to catch up. Heather still lay at his side and one look at her had Jack vomiting at his side. The phone dropped to the floor and he gasped and coughed.

"Jack!" The mobile yelled at him and he picked it up slowly.

"Jack, it's Bobby. Where are you? What's wrong?"

"Fire!" He cried. "Fire. Heather's burnt Bobby. She's really hurt. What am I going to do? There's all this smoke. It's too hot." His voice quivered and Bobby could hardly make out what his little brother was saying. He knew it was bad. Really bad. He had heard 'fire' and his stomach flipped.

"Jack! Listen to me!" He yelled. His voice commanded attention and Jack found himself listening, just as Bobby had hoped.

"Where are you?"

"Heather's house." His voice was still shaky, but the words were audible.

"What is the address?"

"Twenty-three. Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three what, Jack? I need a street name."

"I don't know. Oh god, Heather." He wailed again.

"Think! You need to think."

"Swisscot….. Swisscot Crescent!"

"Good boy. Have you called the Fire Brigade? How big is the fire?"

"I'm stuck in her bedroom."

"Call the Fire Brigade right now. Right now! I'm coming for you, Jack. I'll get you. Sit tight." He clicked off the phone and without a second thought, ran for his car and sped off. I'm not losing my little brother. I'm not losing Jackie.

Jack held the phone to his ear, numb.

"Bobby?" He whimpered. Where was his brother's strong, comforting voice? Why did he just leave him? "Bobby!" He screamed and then choked, coughing violently. His whole body shuddered and then a voice was punching into his mind. Call the Fire Brigade! Call for help! Save Heather!

Jack blinked his watery eyes and punched in 911.

"Fire. Swisscot Crescent! Twenty-three. My friend!"

The person on the other end of the phone explained help was on its way and hung up and again Jack was alone. Scared, alone and slipping into a dangerous plane of shock and denial. Even though Jack was lost in his own reality, the fire grew and become more and more lethal.

Bobby sped round a corner and gasped as he watched in horror as two Fire Engines parked outside the burning house. He jumped out the car and sprinted to the scene.

"Jack!" He threw himself into the garden, but found himself restrained by two firemen.

"Jack!"

"Sir, please. We need to get in there. Step back on to the sidewalk where it's safe."

"My brother. Jack! Jack!" The house was alight with flame and smoke. It was billowing from windows and doors. The firemen pulled Bobby back from the house and stayed with him till he calmed slightly.

"We're never going to get in there on foot. We'll need ladders." One of the men observed and shook his head helplessly. A small explosion blasted glass from a window and arms were thrown over heads to protect from the sharp shards.

"That will take too long! I can't lose him! Jack!" Bobby's irrational characteristics had him running towards the house again.

"Please, sir!" Now three firemen grabbed his jacket and arms.

"We'll try all we can, but it is highly unlikely they'll be people alive in that house. The smoke is too thick. You have to understand." They pleaded. Bobby turned and glared at them, nostrils flaring. He was furious and when Bobby Mercer was angry, nobody would stand in his way. He pulled at the men holding him back and roared in frustration. Then he kicked back and caught one of the men in the shin, sending him to the ground. His right arm was free and he swung it round punching his way free. He told Jack he was coming from him and fire or no fire he was getting his little brother!

The man lunged through the door and instantly his skin burned. He covered his face in his jacket and squinted his eyes. There was fire all around him. Through the blanket of smoke he could make out stairs, but it was suicide to attempt to get up them. Death was never one of the Mercers' fears and Bobby jumped through a wall of orange and yellow flame and danced and leaped his way up to the top landing. His arm and leg were clawed at by the fire and he yelped, slapping it off. It scorched mostly clothing, but his heart was in his throat. Maybe a little fear was a good thing….

Kicking down doors, the man felt tears in his eyes in frustration. He needed to drop to the floor just to be able to breathe, but even that was difficult. Then down the far end of the hall, he saw two little bodies on the floor. His head swam from lack of oxygen, but with one last ounce of strength he crawled to the door.

"Jack!" The sixteen year old was unconscious; arms sprawled out like wings on the carpet. Bobby scampered over and cradled the boy in his lap.

"Come on, little bro. Jackie wake up!" He pleaded. He then took in the sight of the burnt corpse beside his sibling and gagged. He watched for an intake of breath, but there was none. The girl was clearly dead. Fresh panic clambered its way up to Bobby's mind. He scooped up Jack, one arm under his knees and round his shoulders. The boy groaned a little and then his eyes opened lazily.

"Bobby?" He whispered. His voice was dry and raspy. "Am I dead? Are you my angel?"

Bobby smiled, with tears dripping down his cheeks. "No, Jackie. I'm anything but an angel."

Then the boy fell back to the pit of darkness and his head lolled off his brother's shoulder. Hoisting him up his body further, he made the way to the bedroom window. Bobby needed air, his lungs and body cried out for fresh, clean air. It was only two inches of glass away. He glanced out the window and noticed the garage was joined on to the side of the house. It was still a ten foot drop, but it was the only way out. The window slid up and Bobby slid Jack over his shoulder. He hung, a lifeless rag doll as Bobby stepped over the window ledge and perched himself on the edge.

"Drop, Bobby, just drop." He told himself. Holding the teenager tightly, he shut his eyes and dropped to his feet onto the garage. Just as he did, the bedroom they had just been in exploded and Jack was torn from Bobby's grasp. Clean air poured into their lungs and the oldest Mercer brother grabbed his brother's jeans and shirt and jumped off the garage, clear of the danger for now.

Lying on his back, breathing in and out quickly, Bobby absorbed just what had happened. They had been a second away from certain death and a ragged whimper left his lips. He rolled onto his side and took in the injuries his brother had endured. His whole left hand side of his face was covered in blood and his clothes were smoking and underneath deep coloured burn marks were showing. His face was pale under the blood and his hair was matted to his head from sweat and grime.

Moments later and Jack was breathing in fresh air, his eyes opened again. He awoke disorientated, but then his thoughts collected and tears rolled down off his cheeks. He sat up and began searching round the garden. Bobby knew in his heart what he was looking for and his own soul cracked.

"Heather?" Jack asked. Bobby just looked at him, trying so hard not to cry. He drew in a deep breath and shook his head miserably. Jack gasped and then cried into his hand.

"Jack, I had to get you out…."

"Why?" He yelled furiously, tears meandering down his face and flowing like a fast current. Then he tackled Bobby and started punching him out of sheer grief and rage.

"Why did you save me?" He bawled. "Why did you save me?" The boy could only see the image of the beautiful girl in his head and then her burnt corpse. He was beyond exhaustion, but he threw punch after punch, crying in pain and fear.

Bobby felt the fists connect his face, felt the pain, but he just lay there gasping for breath and then Jack slumped on his chest and a blood curling scream left his lips before he fainted once more.