Fire filled the hallway to Carson’s room,

and I skidded to a frantic stop, unable to reach him.

Carson!

My throat felt so raw from the smoke I couldn’t even scream his name. Heat pounded down the hallway, along with thick black smoke, and flames blocked his door.

The window! Maybe I could get to him from his window, from outside.

I whirled, stumbled, and ran back down the hallway. The fire seemed to chase me until my numb feet tripped on the edge of the area rug and I fell hard, sending a stab of pain into my arm where some glass stuck.

Landing, I remembered I should stay on the floor. The air was slightly clearer down there, and I crawled the last feet to the front door, lined by small paned windows shattered by heat. Glass pieces bit into my knees as I reached the door, the doorknob hot in my hand as I turned it.

I launched myself onto the front stoop, then forced myself off the ground to run around the side of the house. Flames snaked upward toward the roof; the siding below was a mass of char. How did the fire erupt so quickly?

I ran to Carson’s window, now a gaping wound in the siding framed by jagged pieces of glass. The eaves above sang with rising flame and sheets of smoke poured off the lower walls. My bare feet sank into mud, deep mud, and I paused for a second, confused because the water didn’t make sense.

I shook my head to clear it. Carson. I had to get to Carson.