Fired Up by Mary Connealy Page B

remembered the war—the battlefields and those days he’d thought he knew what hell would be like. Here he was with another devilish example.
    He knew the floor wouldn’t last much longer. Praying for protection, the first burst of flames eased, and in the evil red light he saw, straight above him, the trapdoor to the attic.
    The attic with its pull-down steps was right over his head.
    Dare had rarely even poked his head up there. Going higher in this house seemed like a blamed fool idea.
    Another loud crack told Dare something big had justcollapsed. The floor beneath him shuddered as if it had taken a hard blow.
    He scrambled to his feet in the choking smoke. A rope hung down from overhead, and he reached up and yanked down the steps to the attic. Before leaving the room, he grabbed his doctor bag from where it sat near the door. Then he was up the stairs like a shot.
    Remembering how the fire had rushed for the open window, he tugged the ladder closed to slow down the raging monster. He choked and fought for every breath. The fire was corralled for the moment, but the attic was also filling with smoke. Instantly Dare dropped to his knees, where the smoke wasn’t quite as thick. He knew there was a window on each end of the attic. A glance at the nearest window showed flames flickering outside it. No way out on that side. He hitched the strap of his bag around his neck and crawled toward the far window, staying low to keep his head out of the smoke. He knocked boxes and furniture aside to clear a path forward.
    His house was the last one on this side of town. Looking through the window before he opened it, he saw a long way to jump, but there was no fire to be seen anywhere.
    He tugged on the window and it rose an inch, then jammed. He didn’t have time for a struggle. A glance for something to smash the glass revealed a plank of wood close to hand. He picked it up and swung hard. The glass broke, but there was a wooden frame dividing the window into four small panes. He clubbed the window until the frame shattered and fell away and there were no jagged shards of glass left on the edges. Then he crawled out tosit on the sill. Three full stories high. He’d likely break his legs jumping, possibly even die. The roaring from the floor below told him he had no choice.
    He turned to hang from the sill and cut a few feet off the fall. Facing into the attic, he heard a loud whoosh as the fire blasted up to where the attic steps were. The sill Dare sat on lurched, and he felt the building sway.
    â€œCatch the rope!” The shout came from below.
    Dare twisted to look down and saw Vince.
    â€œTie it off inside and slide down!” Vince with a lasso and a plan. God bless him.
    â€œReady?” The fire roared like a hungry panther, but Vince roared louder and swung the rope in a loop over his head.
    Dare shifted to face outward. “Throw it!”
    As always, Vince was skilled at anything he tried. The rope would’ve settled over Dare’s shoulders if he hadn’t grabbed it.
    â€œGrab my bag.” Dare tossed his precious doctor bag to Vince, who snagged it without trouble.
    Climbing back into the attic, Dare quickly tied the rope off on a beam still holding up the roof. Another blast of fire exploded into the attic. The stored boxes and furniture were now catching fire.
    The fire was racing straight for him, devouring everything, fed by the cool night air pouring in through the broken window.
    Dare grabbed hold of the rope and went back through the window, sliding downward. Flames shot out the window just as his head dropped below the window level. Skinscraped off his hands as he scrambled, hand over hand, down Vince’s lariat.
    Flames crackled and howled above him as if they were angry he’d gotten away alive.
    The rope couldn’t last more than a few seconds with the fire chewing it to bits. He was still ten feet off the ground when it snapped.
    Plunging, he landed with a