Midnight's Lair by Richard Laymon

out the lobby door that Mordock had smashed.
        Chris wondered if she could get to her room.
         I'm not going back in there.
        Besides, the corridors might be filled with smoke.
         No great loss, she told herself. My clothes, but… oh, Darcy. Darcy had a whole steamer trunk full of things .
        As long as she's all right…
        Chris remembered seeing the stuffed kitten, Snow, on Darcy's bed that morning. Snow. Santa had given her Snow when she was four.
        Tears suddenly flooded Chris's eyes. She lowered her face into her hands and wept.
        
***
        
        A family outing. A goddamn parade. Daddy held the little kid on his shoulders for a better view.
        'You got a car phone?' Hank asked the man.
        The man glanced at him, said, 'Sorry,' and pointed. 'See there, Andy? See the fire in the window?'
        Hank hurried on. A few of the tourists were in their cars and driving slowly through the lot, trying to leave. But most were standing around to watch the fire.
        Hank flinched as something burst. He looked at the hotel. Black smoke was rolling through a second floor window near the middle, probably just above the lobby. The noise he'd heard must have been the window pane exploding.
        He glimpsed claws of flame in the smoke. They curled up the outside wall.
        Someone squeezed Hank's wrist. An old woman in round spectacles smiled up at him. Her thick lenses were like magnifying glasses; made her eyes huge. The whites were yellow and webbed with red. 'How did it start, duke? Y'see how it started?'
        He shook his head.
        'My land, ain't this the berries?' Her hand shook his wrist as if she were demanding an answer.
        'Yeah,' Hank said. 'The berries.'
        'She's goin' up in smoke. Wouldn't you say so, duke? Goin' up in smoke.'
        'Right. Excuse me.' He freed himself from the woman's bony grip and hurried away.
        Not far ahead, a young man and woman were sitting on the hood of a Jeep Wagoneer. They both wore cowboy hats. They both had bottles of beer. Clamped between the knees of the woman was an open bag of potato chips.
        'Have you got a car phone?' Hank asked. 'A transmitter of some…'
        'Nope,' the guy said. 'What's the trouble?'
        'We've got to report the fire.'
        'It hasn't been reported!'
        'I don't think so. We tried to call right after it broke out, but the phones were dead.'
        'Shit, that fucker's gonna burn to the ground.'
        As he said that, his eyes went wide. Hank whirled around in time to see a section of the roof cave in. Seconds after the crash, a galaxy of glowing embers floated up through the smoke. Flames began to chew the ragged edges of the crater.
        'Take this, pal.' The man gave his beer to Hank. 'Come on, Luce,' he said, and leaped off the hood.
        'What?'
        'We're gonna lay rubber outa here and report this bitch before the whole fuckin' place goes up.'
        Hank clapped him on the shoulder, then waved some bystanders out of the way to make room for the Jeep to back out of its parking space.
        Once out of the lot, it picked up speed.
        No matter how fast it goes, Hank thought, it couldn't reach town in much less than twenty minutes. Then it might be another twenty minutes before the first fire truck could arrive. At best.
        Maybe, somehow, the fire's already been reported.
        But Hank doubted it.
        He continued his search for someone with a car phone or radio transmitter.
        
***
        
        Standing on the bumper of Hank's car, Chris spotted him near the far side of the lot. He was wandering among the spectators, stopping briefly and moving on.
        'Looking for someone, honey?'
        She nodded, and glanced down at the man. He wore a blue T-shirt and jeans. His T-shirt read, 'Save a Tree, Eat a Beaver.' His eyes were inspecting the