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.
65.
BEN SAT BESIDE CHRISTINA, hopeless and defeated. He had failed miserably. He hadn’t saved them. All he had done was buy time, and not much time at that.
Christina’s coughing had subsided, but in its place was a deep, rasping noise. Her breathing was heavy and labored. Ben knew she was hurting.
“You did all you could,” she managed to say. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“Why would I?”
Christina tried to smile. “You always blame yourself. For everything.”
Ben turned away. He couldn’t stand to see her like this. Despite what she said, it was his fault she was here, and he damn well knew it.
He glanced down through the trapdoor. The room below was ablaze; there was nothing left but the yellow flames that destroyed everything in their path. The fire was barely inches away from the roof.
“Christina,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
She coughed again, a harsh hacking cough. “Told you not to blame yourself,” she whispered.
“It’s not that. I’m so screwed up. I should’ve—”
“You did what you could.” Another deep, rasping breath. “You always do.”
“But it isn’t enough. You deserve better. I—” He clasped her hand. “I want you to know before it’s too late that I—”
He was interrupted by a strange sound, a noise in the background he hadn’t heard before. What was it? Some bizarre Ouachita wildlife? It seemed to be coming from the sky. A bird? No, that wasn’t it. It was more like—
Like a chopping noise.
Ben pointed toward the clouds. “It’s Portia!”
Christina strained to see. “Who?”
A bright headlight shimmered through the smoke clouds. “I mean, it’s Mike, in Portia. He got the damn thing fixed!”
The chopping and whirring noises grew louder as the helicopter came almost directly overhead.
“That’s great,” Christina said, watching the flames catch the roof. “But how do we get from here to there?”
As if in answer, the passenger-side door opened and a red rope ladder fell out the side.
“That looks pretty dodgy to me,” Christina said.
“Consider the options.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Christina, I never cared much for heights, but I’m still going up that ladder. And if I can do it, I know you can!”
“Well, maybe, but—”
“You first.”
He walked her to the ladder and placed it in her hands. She slowly stepped up the ladder, one rung at a time. When she was halfway up, Ben stepped onto the ladder. The rungs were soft and they gave much more than he would have liked. But it held him. He was off the roof.
“Get us out of here!”
The helicopter eased away from the blazing church. Ben saw two heads poking out the side of the copter. It was Sheriff Collier—and Loving. The ladder was on a winch and they were reeling it in.
When he was about halfway up, Ben heard a tremendous crash below him.
He knew he shouldn’t look down, but he couldn’t stop himself. The roof of the church had crashed down into the flames. The entire building was consumed; there was nothing left but a gigantic glowing fireball.
Just in time, Mike. Just in time.
The conflagration had taken more than just the church. As Ben could see from his aerial perch, it had spread in all directions. The familiar loblolly pines were ablaze, as well as the kennel, and the garage that once held all that incriminating evidence.
But most importantly Ben saw that the fire had spread a hundred yards to the south.