Ignition

A shiver ran down Freedom Patton’s spine. He heard their voices before he could even see the smoke on the horizon. They called to him like all did at first. Their dying agony ripped through him, tying his stomach in knots. He had no choice but to stumble in to the ditch. He fought to keep his lunch down, but to no avail.

His skin itched. It felt to him like a furious case of the hives, but he knew it could be far worse. The horror of being burnt alive sent his empty stomach twisting once again. Freedom kept his stomach from convulsing even more. He needed to focus, and get to the next town as fast as possible.

He rushed down the empty road. He could see the town just a few hundred yards ahead. He’d hoped to find some kind of transportation in Mt. Pleasant. Instead, he would only find death yet again.

No, not just death. There could be survivors; he couldn’t give up hope yet. If he moved fast enough, maybe he could even save them. Freedom pushed himself forward faster, bounding forward with inhumanly long jumps. He’d make it before he was too late.

He had no other choice.

It only took him four minutes at full speed to cover the remaining mile and a half in to town. He took another minute searching out the source of the smoke, but the now billowing clouds of black smoke that filled the sky made it far too easy.

The hotel burned hot, but that didn’t seem to stop the citizens of Mt. Pleasant from crowding around the blaze to gawk. The four story brownstone structure was easily the largest in town. From the looks of the blaze , Freedom couldn’t imagine how anyone could be alive inside.

“Help!”

The strangled cry came brought not only Freedom’s attention, but a good number of the gawkers as well. Despite the flames, and the distortion of the heat, they could see the source of the cry: a middle-aged woman, looking much the worse for wear. In her arms, she clutched a well wrapped bundle tightly in her arms. From its movement, Freedom knew it could be only one thing.

Freedom prayed it wasn’t too late for mother or baby.

He shoved past the rest of the crowd. The police only had two officers keeping the barricade secure, probably all the town could afford. Both men had their focus on their blaze, which made it easy for Freedom to jump the barricade. He was half way to the building before the first officer even noticed him.

“Jake, we’ve got a runner!” The second officer turned at the sound of his name. Freedom ignored both men as he continued towards the building. His mind was already on his options. He could jump farther than any normal human, but he couldn’t reach the fourth story on a single jump, and the building was isolated enough to keep him from using any nearby buildings as a springboard. He had no choice; he’d have to go inside.

“Halt!” Freedom turned his head at the sound of Officer Jake’s voice. The officer had his sidearm drawn and aimed for Freedom. Freedom turned his focus back on the burning building. Taking one last breath, he rushed forward and in to the blaze.

The heat around Freedom even as he entered was nearly unbearable. What was once a shabby hotel lobby looked more like the gates of hell.

Freedom knew he had a matter of a couple minutes before the heat would start to cook him alive. He charged forward, bursting through the rising flames and up the spiral staircase located in the middle of the building.

He’d barely made it to the second story when he felt the stairs shift beneath his feet. Looking down, Freedom saw the flames engulfing the base of the stairs, where he stood only moments before. Any hope of escape through the front entrance was now lost.

It took four more steps before the stairwell shifted again. Its supports were burning away below him. It would only be seconds before his own weight, would send the stairs collapsing beneath him. Freedom took one more step, before taking a blind leap upward.

Freedom angled the jump to take him past the third story curve and right to the fourth story landing. But in the heat and smoke, he’d misjudged the distance, coming just a few feet short of his target. Freedom flailed his arms out above him, just barely catching the edge of the landing.

He started to pull himself up hand over hand. The landing creaked horribly as he moved upwards, as just as he pulled himself over the safety railing, he felt it come loose. Freedom leapt forward and on to the fourth floor hall just as the stairwell lurched one last time and collapsed to the ground floor.

Freedom lay on the hall floor for a few more seconds, catching his breath and thanking his lucky stars he’d survived. He could feel his lungs burning at the smoke he inhaled. He pulled himself up t his feet. He was almost there; if he stopped now, they would all die.

The flames weren’t as bad here, but it still took Freedom some effort to maneuver down the hall. Nonetheless, it only took him a few seconds to find what he thought was the right door.

Freedom kicked it in. The door caved easily, already weakened by the blaze. The heat was becoming unbearable now. Freedom silently prayed that he had made it in time.

He bounded forward, clearing most of the smoke filled room. The floor below him seemed to moan as he landed. He knew the floor would be following the stairwell soon enough. He only seconds to get out alive.

The woman was still beside the window, but she now sat hunched against the wall. She still clutched the bundled child to her chest, but smoke inhalation had taken its toll on her. Freedom gently lifted the child from her arms. He felt it wriggle in its blanket, and it began to cry at the loss of its mother. The movement and noise was a good sign; the baby might make it. He lifted the woman up and on to his opposite shoulder. He knew he’d never be able to get them out through the hallway; he doubted he could survive the blaze alone. That left him with only one choice.

Freedom balanced the woman on his shoulder before yanking one of his twin .45s from its holster on the back of his belt. Raising the weapon, he emptied twelve rounds in to the window frame. The glass exploded outward and the frame crumbled to nothing under the impact.

Freedom shoved the gun back in to its holster and stepped back. He sized up the whole in the wall. It would be a tight fit, but he thought he could make it. Gripping the woman and child tight, Freedom charged forward and through the hole.

Annabelle Montalvo watched as the procession of hooded figures filed in to the room below her. The rafters of the old auction house had been her and Richie’s meeting place for the last few weeks, without any sign of another human. Why would anyone else be here?

She and Richard Williams had first met at Hoover High School. Richie never quite fit in with the other kids. Not even his father’s position as mayor helped him, and Richie naturally gravitated towards Annabelle. As the only Latina student (and the only non-white student in the entire school, for that matter), she knew what it was like to not fit in.

Now at nearly eighteen, she and Richie had been dating for nearly two years; sexually active for over half that. They’d always met in secret in that time. Neither Richie’s parents nor the town at large would ever approve of their relationship.

Where was Richie, she wondered. She wondered if he’d seen the strange crowd below and left. The red and blue hoods of the twenty or so men below came in a variety of shapes and sizes, but all of them covered the group’s faces completely. All the men, and they were all men Annabelle noted, seemed familiar. She recognized Abner Jones, who owned the gas station, and she had the sneaking suspicion that the figure at the head of the pack was none other than Horace Williams, Richie’s father and Tudor’s mayor.

What were all of Tudor’s most prominent citizens doing in an abandoned auction house? And why at this time of night?

Annabelle continued to watch as the group milled about for several moments below her. Finally, the garage doors on the far side of the auction house slid open. Two men came through first. Both were decked out in some kind of military fatigues, and their faces were covered as well, but by ski masks. But what they held worried Annabelle the most. Each carried an assault rifle of some kind.

The two men surveyed the auction house over the barrels of their weapons. Annabelle ducked back in to the lift, praying that neither man had noticed her.

She heard several more muttered comments from the hooded townsmen. After five more minutes, which seemed interminably longer to Annabelle, she leaned out again to see what was happening below.

The townsmen now stood in a semi-circle in the center of the auction house; while the two gunmen stood to either side. A new figure, this one dressed in a simple shirt and tie, entered, flanked by two more gunmen. Unlike everyone else present, he wore no mask. Annabelle was somewhat surprised by his blonde hair and pretty boy features; he looked like no one who lived in Tudor.

The murmuring of the townsmen ended with his arrival. “Hello, gentleman of Tudor,” he said. “I’m impressed with your town’s turn out, but so often it’s only in a small, close knit community like this one, that the truth becomes obvious.”

What was this, Annabelle thought. What the hell had she stumbled across?