Chapter 13 - The Night the Orchard Burned
"PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME HERE, MORGAN!"
Tessa's voice came through the pantry door.
I pressed my hands against the wood.
"I'm not leaving you!"
Smoke was spreading across the ceiling.
The old house creaked as heat built behind the kitchen wall.
I could hear Graham shouting at someone.
Julian was yelling about the back entrance.
But I wasn't listening to them anymore.
I had one thought.
Get Tessa out.
I looked at the pantry's lower wall.
Grandma Clara's voice echoed in my memory.
Sometimes the safest way out is the one nobody remembers.
I dropped to my knees.
There, beneath an old wooden shelf, was a narrow panel.
Its edge was barely visible beneath years of paint.
I pulled at it.
Nothing.
I tried again.
The panel shifted.
Behind it was the small service opening Ruth had described.
My heart leaped.
"Tessa! Can you hear me?"
"Yes!"
"There's an opening near the floor. Move toward my voice!"
I pushed the panel aside.
Cold air rose from the crawlspace.
I lowered myself into the narrow opening.
The space smelled of damp earth and old wood.
I remembered hiding there during summer games when I was little.
Back then, the darkness had felt exciting.
Now it felt like the only thing standing between us and death.
I moved carefully toward the pantry.
Through the opening, I saw Tessa sitting against the wall.
Her wrists were restrained.
Her face was streaked with tears and soot.
"Morgan!"
"I'm here."
I reached through and helped her move closer.
A loose piece of wood gave me enough room to enter the pantry.
I freed her hands.
She immediately grabbed my arm.
"Get out," she whispered. "They're going to kill you."
"Not tonight."
We crawled toward the opening.
Behind us, something crashed.
The house shook.
Tessa flinched.
"What's happening?"
"The back porch is burning."
I guided her into the crawlspace.
"Keep moving. There's an exit near the orchard."
She looked back.
"What about you?"
"I'm right behind you."
We moved slowly through the darkness.
The floor above us groaned.
I could hear shouting outside.
Sirens.
The authorities had seen the fire.
Help was coming.
Then I heard Julian's voice.
"MORGAN!"
He sounded furious.
"WHERE ARE YOU?"
I froze.
Tessa reached for my hand.
"Keep moving," she whispered.
We crawled forward.
I remembered how Grandma Clara used to keep jars of applesauce along the cellar wall.
How she had laughed when I complained that the space smelled like dirt.
How she had told me that a strong home needed a strong foundation.
Tears blurred my vision.
"I'm sorry, Grandma," I whispered.
The house was burning.
The porch she loved was being destroyed.
But I couldn't stop.
Tessa was still alive.
And that mattered more than every board, every window, and every beautiful memory attached to the building.
A narrow opening appeared ahead.
Moonlight filtered through the gaps.
We were almost outside.
"Go!" I told Tessa.
She pushed herself toward the opening.
I helped her move through it.
Then the floor above us cracked.
A terrible sound filled the crawlspace.
I turned just as a heavy beam fell behind me.
Dust and smoke exploded through the narrow space.
I lost my balance.
My shoulder struck the wall.
For several seconds, I couldn't see.
"Tessa!"
No answer.
I crawled toward the opening.
"Tessa, answer me!"
I heard someone shouting outside.
A firefighter.
Then another voice.
"There's someone under the porch!"
I tried to call out.
But smoke caught in my throat.
I coughed violently.
My eyes burned.
I reached toward the opening.
A hand appeared.
"Ma'am! Can you hear me?"
I nodded desperately.
"There's another woman!"
"We're looking for her!"
"She went out first!"
The firefighter grabbed my arm.
But before he could pull me through, the ground shifted beneath the damaged structure.
Another section of wood collapsed.
The firefighter shouted for help.
I felt myself being dragged toward the narrow opening.
Then I heard something that made every other sound disappear.
A woman's weak cry.
Tessa.
It came from somewhere beyond the collapsed cellar wall.
I tried to turn.
"Tessa!"
But the firefighter held me firmly.
"We have to get you out!"
"MY FRIEND IS STILL IN THERE!"
He shouted to his team.
Two rescuers moved toward the other side of the porch.
I could barely see through the smoke.
Then a beam crashed down between us.
The opening vanished behind a cloud of dust.
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And the last thing I heard before everything went dark was a firefighter shouting:
"WE'VE LOST SIGHT OF THE SECOND WOMAN!"
