I could think of several hundred rayon and candy-colored reasons why, but I remained silent. Instead Kale put her hand up. “The fire was my fault, actually,” she said apologetically. “I’m really sorry. My aim isn’t great.”
“Don’t apologize; your fire probably saved my life,” I said.
Avery gaped at me. “This is all your fault? Those guys are after you?”
I peeked over the counter and saw that Adam and his gang were pushing through the fire-strewn racks of clothing, not flinching as the white-hot flames licked at their bare arms and legs.
“Let’s play the blame game later, okay? We don’t have much time.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Avery asked.
I looked at Lorraine—who was starting to blink away the sprinkler water and was working to sit up—and Kale. “You’ve got to get out of here. All three of you.”
“What about you?” Kale asked
“Just go!” I jabbed my index finger toward an open aisle snaking out the back of the store. “That way.” The heat of the fire was starting to press on my chest and I labored to breathe. “Now!” I ordered.
Kale hurried the two women out and I stood up, coming face-to-face with Adam.
“Let ’em run,” he said, jutting his chin in the direction the girls had gone. “It’s you we want anyway.”
For the first time, I noticed the squat handle of a bowie knife tucked into Adam’s waistband. I swallowed hard and let out a relieved squeal when I remembered my shiny new stun gun in its black plastic case. Then I winced as I remembered the stun gun and its case, both fitted snugly in my purse, all three ingloriously dumped in locker number forty-three, Hell=People’s Pants scratched into the red metal. Adam seemed to read my distress; his face looked grotesque as he grinned, his cold eyes raking over me.
A bead of sweat inched its way down my back, and I wondered how Adam and his gang weren’t being singed by the heat from the fire. He took one step toward me, and I took one step back, my fingers desperately searching the register counter for some sort of weapon.
“Just get her, dude,” one of Adam’s henchmen called. “Get her and let’s go.”
My fingers walked the length of the counter, knocking over useless mugs of pens, a receipt pad, the can of Diet Coke that Avery had been drinking.
Adam leered at me. His eyes were bright, alive, the yellow flame reflected in them. “Ophelia wants you for herself,” he reported, pulling the knife out from his waistband, “but I know what you are and there is no way I’m turning you over to her. She won’t be in charge for long.”
The smoke was stinging my eyes, but I could see Adam’s arm raised above him, the blade held aloft, aimed at my chest. My hands closed around a stapler on the counter and I gripped it, walloping him on the side of the head, stapling and screaming manically. My tirade must have been enough to startle or confuse him because he stumbled back and I scrambled over the back counter, sprinting in the direction I had sent the girls. I pushed through the back door of People’s Pants and emerged into the alley, coughing and taking in large gulps of city-fresh air. Kale ran toward me and over her relieved wails I heard the howl of fire engines.
“Are you okay?” Kale looked over my shoulder. “Where are they? Are they still in there? Who are they?”
My head was buzzing and my eyes were stinging from the combination of smoke and the sooty water that dripped from my sopping hair. My blue People’s Pants smock was clinging to me, and I shivered as I stumbled around the alley.
I was dazed and a paramedic came and pulled Kale away from me. A second paramedic sat me down on the edge of the ambulance and shined a penlight in my eye, asking me questions. I mumbled answers robotically—my name, the date, where we were—as the paramedic slung an itchy blanket over my shoulders and slapped a blood pressure cuff on my arm. I watched with bleary eyes as another medic hustled Kale, Lorraine, and Avery to a second ambulance, and a stream of firefighters came out of the People’s Pants building, announcing it clear and turning the fire hoses on it. I stood up, shrugging the blanket off me.
“There was no one else in there?” I asked the paramedic.
“Ma’am, you need to sit down.”
“There was no one else in the building?” I repeated, this time shouting.
The medic put his hands on his hips. “Ma’am!”
“Hey!” I yelled at the sooty back of a fireman’s head. When he turned, I felt myself gape. “Will?”
Will grinned, his teeth blaring white against his dark, soot-streaked cheeks. “Now who’s stalking who?” He took off his helmet, revealing his spiky blond hair.
“You’re a fireman, too?”
He leaned the ax he was carrying against his shoulder. “No. I just like to dress up and rush into burning buildings.” He spun the helmet in his hand. “And the hat’s pretty cool, too.”
Just then another firefighter clapped Will on the shoulder, jutted his chin toward the remains of People’s Pants. “We’re going back in, Sherman.”