All That I've Got

It took them less than five minutes to have everything ready. They’d found as much flammable matter as they could, and Mark had positioned it so that it blocked the flame tubes.

Just as a large group of Jury members had started battling their way toward the DJ platform (obviously having found their target), Mark hit the button.

The fire started in between one blink and the other. The stale air in the club was lit by the licking flames, and the force of the flames being shot upward made the makeshift tinder (their shirts and business cards for strippers) rain down across the club.

The music was now out of control, too-loud and shaking the entire foundation of the building. Frank could barely think, other than to know that their plan had worked.

Everything was chaos. Worse than the chaos of any of the minutes before- this was madness. This was what it looked like when you kicked an ant hill. The Jury didn’t stand a chance.

Everyone was moving now, trying to run, pushing and kicking. The Jury members were being eaten by the crowd under the flames’ crackling. They were swept into the terror, and the group that had sighted Frank and Mark was washed into the great, panicking tide.

Frank grabbed for Mark, and together they jumped from the platform, where fire had raced across the DJ booth and up the walls. They ran through the smoke and the people, moving with the others.

There were times when they were fleeing death that the world slowed down, and times when it moved to fast that Frank’s brain went haywire. There was even a time when Frank lost Mark’s hand again, and both their hearts stopped until their fingers touched again.

Within a few minutes, there was more smoke than oxygen in the air, and people were moving too-slow. Frank was sure then that he was going to die. That death was at his heels and this was the end.

And with that acceptance, there came a flood of images.

A cell. Smoke inking the sky and his name being shouted, then the walls exploding and blackness.

Suddenly, Frank knew that this was his chance to rewrite fate. He had failed before, when he was knocked out. But now everything was the same, the fire and the panic and people to save.

They could see the exit now, and the smoke was billowing out into the night, followed by the club-goers. But Frank could also see that no one would last that long, everyone was too confused and had too much of this smoke in their lungs.

Frank thought of Mark, and his decision was made.

He knew what had to do, and rushed forward, pushing and pulling and rearranging people. Somewhere behind him, Mark yelled, but Frank didn’t listen.

Frank began pushing the people out the door as soon as he reached it, dispersing the buildup that was forming.

Anyone who looked drugged got an extra hard push, so that they couldn’t get lost on their way over the threshold. When Mark appeared, Frank also gave him a hard shove, watching the boy stumble into the night. And then Frank was finally okay with the weight of his fate, knowing that Mark would live.

Frank continued pulling bodies from the wall of smoke and pushing them to fresh air. Over and over he did it until the tide dwindled into a stream, and then a trickle. And by then the fire was on Frank, licking his knuckles and catching on his jacket.

Hope flared as hot as the fire in Frank chest, then. There was no one else to save, and the door to the rest of his life was only a foot away.

Frank turned, moving slow and feeling thick with smoke. His jacket was burning every inch of skin it touched, but nothing could stop Frank now.

At the brink of his last breath, Frank stumbled out of the exit, and spilled out onto concrete. He managed to register the sweetest taste of pure air and the motion of hands on him. Then the world faded to black, like the lights dimming after a play.