Perfect Justice

64.

CHRISTINA PRESSED CLOSE AGAINST him. “There must be something we can do.”

“Look at the fire spreading,” Ben said, almost mesmerized by the red glow. “This wooden church will go up in no time at all.”

“I’m not giving up. If we can’t get out, we should move up.”

The wheels in Ben’s head began to turn. “There’s a staircase in the front lobby.”

“Come on!”

They ran through the chapel to the staircase. Just as they hit the stairs Ben heard a sudden whoosh!—followed by an intense flash of heat.

The fire must have hit a gas main or something flammable. The flames had burst forward, filling the chapel.

It was following them.

There was only one room on the second floor. It had no furnishings, but Ben saw many folding chairs and tables stacked against the walls. Probably a social room, or for Sunday school. Smaller groups that didn’t need a room the size of Fellowship Hall.

“There are no windows!” Christina exclaimed.

Ben scanned the room quickly. She was right.

“I had hoped there would be some way out—a window or a ventilation duct. Some exit from this death trap. But there isn’t.”

Ben could see the mounting panic in her eyes. She was out of ideas, and knew better than to look to him for help. He had never been any good in an emergency; she was the one who always saved the day. But this time it seemed even Christina was stumped.

“Maybe I can punch a hole in one of these walls,” he said, without much conviction. He covered his fist with his wet coat and gave one a try. He barely left a mark.

“Let’s go back down.” Ben had barely reached the head of the stairs before he realized that was impossible. The flames filled the ground floor. There was nowhere down there to go but straight into the inferno.

“Ben,” Christina said, “I—I don’t feel so good.” She began to cough violently. She sat down and braced herself against the floor.

She’d taken in too much smoke, Ben realized. Soon she’d be suffering from serious inhalation damage or scorching of her lungs. Or worse.

The fire reached the top of the stairs. It was filling the church, obliterating it. The flames wouldn’t stop until the church was utterly destroyed.

And everything in it.

“I need air,” Christina gasped, between coughs.

Ben pounded his fists together. There had to be something he could do. There had to be a way. This second-story refuge had become a prison; there was nothing they could do but wait for the fire to reach them. There was no way out. Not in the wall. Or the floor.

But what about the roof? Ben raised his head and looked upward. Yes! There was something up there—a trapdoor, perhaps?

He jumped toward it, but he was too short to reach it. He grabbed one of the folding chairs. They were hot to the touch. Gritting his teeth, he unfolded the chair and stood on it.

He popped open the trapdoor. From the opening he could see the steeple tower. Of course—this was how they rang the bell.

The fire was in the room with them now. They didn’t have a second to spare.

Ben scrambled down to Christina’s side. “Do you see the opening?”

Her nod was barely perceptible.

“Do you think you can get through?”

She didn’t answer, but her eyes told Ben she had serious doubts.

“I’ll go through first. If you can just stand on the chair, I’ll pull you up. Okay? Will you follow me?”

She smiled weakly. “Don’t I always?”

Ben pushed his head through the opening and grabbed the top of the roof. He’d never been very good at chin-ups in school, but it was amazing what you could do when the only alternative was being burned alive.

As soon as he was on the roof, he lay flat and reached down for Christina. She was already standing on the chair, but she was teetering uncertainly. She held out her arms to him.

Ben stretched his arms through the opening. Bloody hell! He would have a legal assistant who was barely five feet tall. Reaching down with all his might, he grabbed her hands and pulled. Once he had her head through, she flattened her arms against the shingles and helped push. A few seconds later she was on the roof.

And not a moment too soon. The fire filled the second-story room.

“We made it,” Ben said breathlessly. “Thank God.”

Christina drank in deep gulps of fresh—or at least fresher—air. “We made it,” she echoed. “But to what?”

Ben knew exactly what she meant. The way this fire was spreading, it would only be a matter of moments before it reached the roof. Or more likely, the flames would eat away at the structural supports and the roof would crash into the blazing cauldron below.

Ben peered uneasily over the edge of the roof. They were much higher up than the usual second-story roof. The chapel was probably designed with a high ceiling. Even if he had been inclined to try to jump to the ground, though, in this case, it would be a suicide plunge. The fire had spread to the surrounding land. He would be jumping to a hellish instant death.

There were no signs of assistance; in fact, there was no sign of anyone. Probably the only ones who had noticed the fire were the residents of Coi Than Tien, and they were hardly likely to mount a rescue.

There was no help from others, and no way they could help themselves. They were surrounded by flames on all sides.

And there was no way out.