Chapter 11 - Fire and Iron
The heat was instantaneous and suffocating. Black, oily smoke mushroomed across the ceiling, rolling downward like a suffocating blanket. Lily began to cough, tears streaming down her soot-stained cheeks as the roar of the fire drowned out the sounds of the night.
Margaret didn't hesitate any longer. She grabbed the iron crowbar and wedged it beneath the warped floorboards behind the iron woodstove. With a surge of adrenaline that defied her aging joints, she threw her entire body weight against the lever. The rusted nails screamed and tore free, revealing a dark, narrow earthen tunnel that reeked of damp soil and rotting roots.
"Down, Lily! Crawl forward and don't stop!" Margaret commanded, lowering the little girl into the black hole.
Lily looked up, her face illuminated by the dancing orange flames consuming the cabin walls. "Grandma, please come!"
"I'm right behind you, baby," Margaret said. She turned back to Julian, whose silhouette was outlined by a wall of fire. He sat propped against the blazing cot, the flare sputtering violently in his hand, his rifle leveled at the front door.
"Tell Chloe..." Julian started, his voice cracking amidst the roar of burning timber, "tell her I'm sorry I dragged her into David's mess."
"Tell her yourself when we see her," Margaret choked out.
"She's gone, Maggie. You know the rapids," Julian whispered with a sorrowful smile. "Now get out of here!"
Margaret dropped into the root cellar, pulling the heavy floorboards back over the opening just as a thunderous barrage of automatic gunfire ripped through the cabin's thin timber walls. Bullets splintered the ceiling above her head like angry hornets. Through the cracks, she heard Julian’s rifle fire twice in defiance, followed by a massive, deafening explosion as the flare ignited the gasoline fumes trapped in the room.
The shockwave knocked Margaret flat on her face in the muddy crawlspace, showering her back with burning embers that sizzled against her damp clothing. She didn't look back. She couldn't.
On hands and knees, Margaret crawled frantically through the narrow earthen drainage ditch, pushing through spiderwebs, mud, and jagged roots. Up ahead, she saw a faint glimmer of moonlight where the culvert emptied into the cedar swamp.
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She reached the mouth of the pipe and tumbled out into the cold marsh grass, scooping Lily into her arms. Behind them, the hillside was crowned with a towering pillar of orange fire, black smoke billowing into the overcast night sky.
And then, stepping out from behind a massive hemlock tree directly in their path, was David.
