The odor of smoke grew thicker.
Her lungs seemed to seize in anticipation of filling with the deadly carbon and airborne particles. She had to hurry.
Think, Al.
What had she heard her grandmother say about old windows being stuck? Sometimes the paint made them stick… She needed something to slide between the sash and the frame that held it in place.
Heart pounding, she rushed to the table on her grandfather’s side of the bed, dragged open the drawer and picked through theitems there. He’d always collected and carried pocketknives. She grabbed the largest one in the drawer and rushed back to the window. It took her a moment to figure out how to open it. Once she did, she stuck the blade between the sash and its frame and started to wiggle it and then to slide it up and down. She did one side before moving on to the other. By the time she’d finished, the smoke was thick in the air. Her body resisted the impulse to breathe.
She had to get out of here.
Dropping the knife, she got a grip on the sash with both hands and tugged. She groaned with the effort of lifting it, desperation rushing through her body.
The sash gave way, sliding upward a few inches.
Allie cried out with relief. She placed her hands beneath the lower part of the sash this time and pulled upward again and, thank God, up it went.
Her knees went weak with relief.
It took a few seconds to get the screen out of the way. She allowed it to fall to the ground outside. It was pitch dark in the backyard. She wished she’d turned on some exterior lights when she arrived and started turning on lights in the house.
She released the ladder and pushed it over the ledge and out the window.
Now all she had to do was climb down. She stuck her upper body out the window and stared toward the ground. It was quite a ways to fall.
“You can do this.”
She could. She really could.
She drew her upper body back inside, next one leg went out the window, then the other. The position she’d chosen left her sitting on the window ledge with her legs hanging out. With a deep breath, she rolled onto her stomach and eased her lower body out farther.
Now her legs dangled in the air. The window casing cut into her abdomen.
She focused on finding the ladder with her feet. First one foot hooked on to a rung and then the other. Her heart in her throat, she tested her weight. No snap and break, no sudden drop. Okay. She started down. One rung at a time. Right. Left. Repeat.
When her feet were on the ground, she wilted against the side of the house.
She was down without breaking anything.
The fire blazed in the first floor windows.
Fear snaked around her throat.
The house would soon be fully engulfed.
The photo albums. Her family’s things! Her entire history. Allie slapped her hands over her mouth to hold back the scream that burgeoned there.
But she couldn’t scream. Whoever had set the fire could still be out there watching to make sure she went up in flames with the house.
She needed to call 911.
She reached into her pocket for her phone.
Not there.
Had she left it on her desk? In the SUV? Had it fallen on the floor in her grandparents’ room or on the ground outside?
A loud sound in the front part of the house or on the porch shattered the air. Had a room caved in?
