by Addison Jane
The ride seemed like it took forever, but in actual fact, it had probably been a little over five minutes because the central police department was almost right in the middle of downtown Phoenix, close to Empire and the new building.
The ambulance was still parked outside, half up on the curb and alongside it was my brother’s Harley. We all rode up and hurried to get off to get close to the building. I could hear fire sirens in the distance letting me know that the engines would be here soon, but we still had no idea how bad the fire was, given that the only indication was some smoke which was billowing into the foyer.
“Where’s Drake?” I called, looking around urgently.
“He’s inside,” Meyah called back as she jogged around the corner from the side alley. “I was following him when we spotted it. He went in the back. I told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Dad and I both took off running in the direction where Meyah had come from. She tried to come after us, but Shake grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back.
“Don’t let her die, Rip, please,” my sister screamed, tearing my heart out of my chest.
I couldn’t respond.
This building was old, it was sturdy and strong, but it was no match for a fire once one started to rage. And for all I knew, all it would take was one lick, and the entire thing could fall down around us.
We skidded to a stop when we spotted a broken back door where Drake must have busted through, and neither Dad nor I even stopped to consider what we might be running into. We both dashed through and into the backstage maze of dressing rooms, props rooms and corridors, hoping like hell that something was going to jump out at us.
“Drake, go!” I heard Dakota scream over the crackle and snap of burning wood. She started to cough. “Dammit, just get out!”
“Hell, fucking no, not without you.”
We thundered up the back stairs and onto the stage just in time to hear some shouting and smashing at the other end of the theater and the fire crew announcing their entrance. Thank fuck they were here because the entire seating area of the theater was ablaze. Every fucking seat in every row was alight and raging, and the flames were lapping at the front of the stage. The heat they were throwing off enough to take my breath away.
I spotted Dakota on the stage and my feet unconsciously carried me to her. I skidded to a stop and fell to my knees, grasping her face in my hands and pressing my forehead against hers. “Fuck, I thought—”
“Ripley… I’m stuck,” she whispered, her throat raspy and thick with tears. I pulled back a little and frowned. “I can’t get out.”
I looked down at her hands. They were raw, the skin torn and blood stained the white plastic ties. She’d fought, she hadn’t laid down and taken it, my girl had pulled and struggled with these things hard enough that they had made her bleed.
“We’re running out of time, Rip,” Drake called, pointing at the edge of the stage which had now caught alight as was quickly eating away at the wood.
“Dad, throw me your knife!”
He dug his hand down into his pocket—Dad didn’t go anywhere without his knife—he was like a really experienced Boy Scout and believed in always being prepared.
It skidded across the stage, hitting my leg as the wood between us began to crackle and burn. Parts of the stage started to crumble and my shaking hands fought to get the knife open as Dakota tried her best not to give in to the tears that continuously poured from her ocean colored eyes.
“Rip, come on, man, you aren’t gonna make it,” Drake screamed from on the other side of the curtains. I finally flicked out the knife and grabbed Dakota’s wrists, making note to apologize for being too rough later when we got the fuck out of here. The knife barely fit between her wrists and the ties they were so tight, I was surprised she could even feel her hands. I saw back and forth a couple of times before it finally snapped.
The sound was like a musical fucking symphony, but before I even had time to relish it, another sound boomed, part of the stage crumbling as the fire must have begun its burn beneath us, destroying everything it touched.
I pulled Dakota into my arms and dragged her to her feet.
I looked around, everything was alight, the side of the stage closest to us, and there was a gaping hole between my family and us. Dakota and I both started coughing and raising our hands to try and protect our face as we just stood in complete and utter shock.
Crash.
She screamed, and we both leaped backward fighting to get as far away from the destruction as possible but knowing there was nowhere else to run.
An entire piece of the wall below the stage fell straight across the front like a fucking wrecking ball.
We couldn’t get out.
There was no way for us to get out without walking or climbing through and over flames.
“Get on the lighting rack,” my dad screamed through the crackling. I could barely see him through the smoke and the flames which were now attacking the curtains between us. “Get on the fucking metal rack.”
Dakota pulled at my arm pointing at the specifically designed lighting contraption that she’d been tied to. “They want to pull us up. If we can get to the rafters, there’s an exit that goes out the back by the green rooms.”
“It’s fifty feet or more in the fucking air.”
A loud whoosh had me pulling Dakota’s body into mine and turning my back as the flames caught the curtains, and they went up in less than a few seconds. Dakota looked up at me, her eyes bloodshot and her hands gripping my club cut. I already knew walking into that place that I wasn’t going to fucking leave without her.
“Ripley,” Drake screamed, and Dakota and I both leaped onto the metal bars as they rose up off the ground, not wasting another fucking second as they began to move up. They’d fallen on their side so we stood on one bar and hooked our arms around the other. It was slow and they were fucking hot to the touch, with one end completely immersed in a pit of fire for the last minute or so, the heat traveling through it.
We were only a few feet up in the air when I looked over and could tell they were struggling to even move the both of us.
“I need to get off!” I called over the loud raging fire.
“Don’t you dare,” Dakota yelled, holding my body tighter, her hands fisting my club cut, desperate to not let me go.
I moved to untangle her from my body as she sobbed and shook her head. “Take her first!”
“Rip!” my dad warned loudly.
“Please!”
I could see the devastation in his face. There was every chance we wouldn’t make it out of this. That the fire would get us. Or that the building was too weak and it would crash down around us.
But he nodded anyway.
Because he knew.
Dad fought for Mom, and he fought hard, as hard as he had the power to at that stage in his life, but I knew he still regretted not doing more. He regretted not helping her run away, or not taking control sooner, even though the club could have disowned him for going against them.
If he had, maybe she’d still be here.
Maybe not.
Who knows?
But I wasn’t willing to sit around for the rest of my life with the same regrets.
“Don’t you fucking move, asshole!” The voice was new and both of our heads shot up to see Shake and Shotgun with the rope over their shoulders behind Dad and Drake, fighting their grip on the wooden floors as they fought to help get us up in the air. Suddenly, we were moving quickly, and the rafters were coming closer.
“Get ready!”
Dakota nodded, and the moment that we saw wooden beams, we both threw ourselves onto them, clutching on for dear fucking life, and trying to pretend we weren’t looking at a burning pit of wood fifty feet beneath us that would not just swallow us whole but break our backs and then burn us to death.
A loud snapping sound had my body jerking with fright as the metal rack we’d just been standing on started to fall, the vision of it seemin
g to move in slow motion as it crashed into the stage below, sending wooden boards and fire flying through the air in an explosion.
Dakota screamed and clutched the wooden beam she was holding even tighter. As much as I probably needed to stop and check my fucking pants, I couldn’t.
The firefighters were pushing back the flames, but they weren’t moving fast enough, and I just couldn’t risk leaving our lives in their hands and hanging out up here hoping for the fucking best. “We need to go.”
Dakota shook her head, she’d been brave to that point, but there was only so much one person could take, and she was crumbling. And as she looked across at me, I saw the fear in her eyes. She was petrified, she was frozen, and she’d already been through hell, and now I was asking her to screw the fucking devil too.
“Pixie,” I urged, seeing a small sparkle in her eyes. “I promise I will not let you fall, but we need to move.”
There was a walking platform only a few feet away, and I wouldn’t tell her, but I could feel things beginning to shake. It was now or it was going to be never.
“I know I let you down before,” I told her, shaking my head. “I’m not fucking perfect, and I’m gonna screw up in the future, probably at least once a week. But I can promise you one thing, I will never fucking let you go.”
The smoke was billowing around us now, it was starting to fill the air over our heads and I was scared that if we didn’t move now that falling would be the second worry, the first would be suffocating.
“Never?” she finally answered.
“Fucking never.”
I saw her swallow the hard lump in her throat and she took a deep breath. “Bet I can’t die faster than you can.”
There was my fucking girl.
DAKOTA
I knew for a fact that Ripley would have stayed there with me until the fire consumed us if I didn’t move. There was no way he was going to walk away from me. And as much as I was completely fucking terrified—being only God knows how far up off the ground, but also watching the building around us give in to the total and utter destruction of the fire—there was no way in hell that I was going to let him just give in for me.
“Over here.” He motioned to what looked like a footbridge that the lighting technicians used to use to hang the lights. I was struggling to see, my eyes being attacked by smoke, but I could tell it was wider than the beams we were on, and it had hand railings on either side. They were pretty pathetic for railings, but at this stage, I honestly didn’t care as long as it leads to an exit.
We both shuffled along our planks.
I refused to look down.
I could feel the fire burning beneath me, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before it ate away at the beams holding the theater up, even with the firefighters actually looking like they were starting to win the battle.
It didn’t matter.
This place had already been gutted.
Every piece of history had been consumed and turned to ashes.
I finally made it to the walkway and Ripley pulled me to my feet. The movement of the building didn’t go unnoticed. Every crackle and pop of the fire seemed to shake it a little more, cause it to sway.
“Go!” Ripley snapped, putting me in front of him and pushing me forward.
We ran along the flimsy pathway. It led over the back of the stage wall which was now entirely consumed by flames. They snapped at our feet like hungry crocodiles in a river as we crossed over it. We kept running, I was stumbling, fighting to stay on my feet as my body threatened to just fall to pieces and all I could see was a blur. I managed to make out the staircase at the end before I flew off it, and took each step carefully as we made our way to the bottom.
Rip’s hand stayed in contact with my body the entire time like he was waiting to grab me and pull me back, or to push me forward. Like he was ready for anything, and he was prepared to protect me.
My body ached, my head hurt, my skin felt like it was melting off my bones, and I could feel smoke in my lungs making it hard to breathe, but the moment I hit the ground and spotted the door that leads outside, I ran.
I ran hard and fast, and I could feel Ripley right on my heels.
The tears had already started to fall from my eyes as I hit the fresh air outside. It was cold, freezing against my overheated skin, but holy shit each breath felt like heaven. I stumbled, coughing and fighting to keep the good air coming in and forcing the toxic mixture out of my lungs. I could hear Ripley doing the same, the both of us dry heaving.
My legs gave way, but someone caught me, hooking their arm around my back and the other under my knees and lifting me off the ground. I blinked, trying to clear my eyes but they stung, and the tears I was crying were helping to soothe the pain so I just let the person carry me, their leather cut and a heavy set of boots stomping on the gravel beneath us a sure sign that I could trust them. I knew Ripley was close by. I could hear his heavy breathing and more heavy footsteps surrounding us as we were herded toward safety.
My heart wouldn’t slow down. It continued to race even when I knew we were going to be okay. It thundered within my chest, and I wasn’t sure if it was going to slow down any time soon.
“She needs her eyes washed, she’s got too much smoke in them, plus oxygen, she struggling to breathe,” Huntsman rattled off as he stepped up and deposited my body on what I imagine was a bed.
Was I struggling to breathe?
I guess maybe wheezing wasn’t exactly normal.
“Thank fucking Christ!” My brother’s voice sent me further into hysterics, and I felt the ambulance dip as he threw himself inside and wrapped his arms around me. I couldn’t see him apart from the blur of colors, but I continued to cry as I buried my head into his shirt. His smell alone was comforting and reminded me of home, and I instantly felt like I could breathe a little better. But the anxiety kept my heart pumping, and I could hear the EMT telling someone they needed to get me to the hospital because my blood pressure was far too high, and they needed to bring my body back to earth.
“I need, Rip,” I urged, wiping frantically at my eyes, trying to make them clear again so I could find him. I needed him to stay with me.
“Dakota, it’s okay,” my brother argued, but I shook my head.
“Please, find him.”
I could feel the panic coming. I’d never had a panic attack in my life, but I could feel it spreading through my body. I blinked hard, the fuzz starting to clear, but I couldn’t breathe.
“Woah, Pixie, I’m here,” Ripley soothed, climbing around my brother and sitting on the other side of the ambulance. “It’s okay, we’re gonna go to the hospital.”
I looked at Austin as he sat at the edge of the bed, looking down at me, his hand brushing away the hair from my face. “When you were in the hospital as a baby, I remember Dad saying to me, we are all she has, we need to look out for her, we need to protect her, so she’ll never have to go through this again.” His voice was cracking, and I reached for his hand, squeezing it in mine. “I promised him that I wouldn’t let anything hurt you like that again, and up until now, I thought I’d done a pretty good job.”
“Austin,” I croaked, shaking my head.
“I can see now there’s someone here who’s willing to take over and do a far better fucking job,” he grated, looking over at Ripley.
It was a weird moment where Austin finally gave his blessing, in a very Austin way—like there was someone pulling his teeth out at the same time.
My brother leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead before giving Rip a sharp nod and climbing out of the ambulance. One EMT jumped in the back with us while another climbed into the driver’s seat and flipped on the sirens.
My body relaxed into the bed with Ripley holding my hand while the EMT checked my vitals again.
I could have done without the sirens.
But honestly, if that was the price I had to pay right at the moment to have my ass on the way to the hospital and not falling into a burning
pit, then I guess I’d shut my mouth.
DAKOTA
The Next Day
“Mom, I swear to God. Stop,” I ordered as she tried to fill the hospital room I was in with freshly made food. Pies, cakes, and homemade soup that she’d just been down to the nurses’ station and asked them to heat in the microwave. The steam from that alone was already fogging up the windows.
“You need to eat,” she snapped back, my mother not one to take shit lying down when her own child catches an attitude with her. She placed her handbag on the chair in the corner and pulled out a soft blanket, bringing it over and laying it out across the hospital bed.
“Are you secretly Mary Poppins?” I asked with a raised brow when she started digging down inside it again.
“You know,” she sighed looking over her shoulder at me with a raised brow. “You never used to smart mouth your father when he was around. You were such a daddy’s girl.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
I really was.
“Even before you knew who we were, you used to cling to him,” she murmured, abandoning the bag and walking back toward the bed. “You had this special gift of knowing who you could trust and who was safe. You knew instantly that it was him. And I think you knew well before you’d like to admit it, that that’s Ripley, too.”
My body warmed, and I relaxed into the bed, my hands touching at the bandages they’d wrapped around my wrists. I’d apparently done some damage. I remembered seeing blood, but I hadn’t thought it was that bad.
Ripley had almost lost his shit when he’d seen them, but I couldn’t say I blamed him. He’d managed to calm himself pretty well, though. Ripley had introduced himself to my mom the moment she stepped inside the building. Even though he was at the other end of the corridor having his ribs wrapped—because he cracked one leaping from the lighting rack and into the rafters—he’d still dragged his ass down here to say hi with the doctor right behind him lecturing his ass off. You had to admire a man who even with two cracked ribs and the possibility of cyanide poisoning, was willing to make an effort to show respect to your mom.
