The Ocean’s City

Dalton… Dalton is here! The man left me, sitting in my chair, contemplating my options. How could I trust him? In the past, I thought he was the way to escape Dalton, and I lost my friend. However, he could be the only person who knows where she is. He promised to tell me everything if I proved loyal to him. That was more than Dalton had ever promised me. The angry, frustrating fact balled in the depths of my belly. If he had told me more, Dannie would never have been hurt.

Dannie… Dannie trusted Hutson. She knew more than me about this situation and blindly trusted him. Did that say something?

That man was headed to Dalton and Hutson now. Who knew what he planned to do to them? What good would it be to find Dannie without help to protect her or me? What good would it be finding Dannie if Hutson was dead? She loved him way too much to forgive me for getting her killed, then getting Hutson killed. I knew that in the deepest parts of my bones. Whatever Hutson told her, she knew it to be true, and their love was real. Was that something I could have with Dalton one day? Did I even want Dalton?

I could hear the man calling orders from down below. I peered over the window to see him climbing into a boat and pointing off into the distance. My eyes searched the direction of his finger, but it was too dark to see anything that wasn’t covered by the lantern’s glow. Dalton and Hutson don’t know where I am. It gave me an idea, and I began searching through the drawers. At first, I almost skimmed past the item I was looking for because I was searching for something small and brightly colored or wrapped in cardboard. Still, luckily, my mind was fast enough to realize that the small metal thing rolling around in the drawer was a flint starter. I was going to light the room on fire.

I snatched the bottle of alcohol from the table, along with some papers, crumbled the papers, and doused them with the alcohol before taking the metal utensil, sliding the small stick out from the center, and gliding it against the metal. Sparks flew and ignited a piece of paper, which I pushed closer to the others doused in alcohol. It immediately flared up, and I had to jump back to avoid catching myself on fire.

I watched how fast the paper was being eaten up by the growing sunset-colored glow and reacted quickly, throwing books and anything I could find to feed the flame. I threw the books into the fire in sets of three or four. Determined to make the fire grow large enough. As I moved to the next bookshelf, throwing a single heavy green-covered book into the flames, something fell to the floor with a clink.

I almost didn’t stop to care what had fallen until I saw the glint of turquoise. It was probably a long shot. More of a coincidence than anything, but as I picked it up and saw the brass bracelet with the turquoise stone, I remembered what Dalton had asked Willie. The brass bracelet with turquoise. Did he take it?

Despite not knowing what significance the jewelry had to Dalton, I slipped it on my wrist, hoping it was what he needed for us to find Dannie.

Then, remembering time was of the essence, I found more alcohol and doused it on the chairs, the desk, and the rug and pushed them closer to the fire. The room heated, and sweat droplets collected on my forehead.

I didn’t stop, though. I needed enough fire that it could be seen miles away. More than smoke would be necessary for Dalton to know where I was. It was much too dark, and I didn’t want to risk it being confused as a cloud.

Finally, running out of things to feed the fire, I rushed to the door, planning to take off running and hopefully get past the soldier guarding my door. The doors shook, but they didn’t budge open. NO! The smoke was already getting too much for the room, and as I panicked, it caused me to cough. I banged on the door, screaming. The soldier couldn’t have gotten far. If I call loud enough, he should come to my rescue. But it took him more time than it should have to open the doors.

No one was there to let me out. I turned to make space and charged the door open. The flames had already taken half of the room, and I had no time to spare. I ran with all my might and flung myself on the doors like landing on a soft cloud, but it was nothing like a soft cloud. It was hard and unforgiving as it bruised my arm and forced me to the floor with a thud.

I coughed some more, taking the swamp-smelling T-shirt and covering my mouth. Then, desperately kicked at the door. One, two, three times, still nothing happened. I felt desperate. Being burned alive could only be a horrible experience and nothing but. But… I wasn’t scared if I died… I wouldn’t be gone. I would just be elsewhere. As the man had said. Whatever that meant. It gave me some comfort. Still, I kicked that door like my life depended on it.

The flames now grew to my peripherals. The room’s heat was like I was vacationing in hell on the hottest day of the year. There was a sudden cracking noise, and I felt myself fall, but before I could register any of it, I closed my eyes and lost consciousness.