But that lasted for only a few seconds. A flicker of orange flame snaked out of the blackness as the dust-dry blankets caught fire, followed by the crackling of the floorboards igniting in the fierce heat.
J.B., Dean and Ryan reached Jak, and they all threw their weight against the opening. But it was obvious that the whole structure of the hut had become twisted by the quake, pinning the door into its warped frame.
Already the place was filling with coils of choking smoke, muffling the climbing flames.
“Windows are all shuttered from the outside,” the Armorer shouted. Already it was hard to breathe.
THERE HAD BEEN a period of total confusion.
Doc’s control over his own mind had never been that strong, and times of severe stress tended to create some serious brain slippage. If he’d been presented with a wag load of jack, he could never have told anyone how long the shuddering, crashing, sliding and yelling went on.
It could have been less than fifteen seconds.
It might well have lasted for two or three minutes.
Either way it seemed to Doc to be an endless eternity of terror.
The chest spun as though possessed by its own malevolent demon, crashing across the attic floor, pitching and tossing, the wood of the panels splintering, showing daggers of light through the fresh cracks.
For a few shards of broken time, Doc passed out, slipping into a mysterious blackness.
When he came around, the movement had ceased and there was an uncanny near silence. For a while he lay cocooned in the welcome stillness, luxuriating in the calm.
He couldn’t sense the presence of the sec men. They had to have gone. Otherwise they’d have broken in the lid of the chest and hauled him helplessly out.
“Hello,” he said cautiously. Doc cleared his throat and tried again, aware of the frailty of his voice.
But there was no response.
“Anyone there? Mrs. Tennant? You out there, madam? Could you possibly unlock me?”
He braced himself against the sides of the chest, pushing with all his strength. Despite the splits in the wood, the bands held like iron.
Doc realized that the storm was still raging, and that the silence was comparative after the intensity of the massive earthquake.
He also realized that he could smell the bitter, acrid tang of wood smoke.
“Help! Help me…”
THERE WAS a final shock that felt as though the whole building were being jerked sideways, with one end dipping and twisting. Krysty was knocked off the bed onto the floor, and all the others were thrown off their feet.
“Fireblast!” Ryan banged his elbow against the door, blinking in the sudden shaft of light. One of the shutters had been torn off its mounting, the glass shattering in the window, as the wall of smoke opened before his eye.
“Get out!” Krysty screamed, staggering across the rocking floor.
She led the way, risking cuts on the broken windowpanes, followed by Jak and Dean. Then came J.B., helping out a dazed Mildred.
Ryan was last out of the burning building, emerging into a wilderness of destruction.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The grating of a key in the lock jerked Doc back from the brink of total panic.
He had wriggled around onto his side, kicking out with the heels of his cracked knee boots, pounding at the splintered sides of the old chest, conscious that he was making precious little progress and that smoke was filtering in from a substantial fire elsewhere in the cabin.
“Doc, are you all right?”
He bunked in the light, seeing the silhouette of the elderly woman, taking the proffered hand to haul himself upright onto shaky legs.
“I am a little fatigued, madam. But what of your good self? Did those brutish thugs harm you?”
Smoke billowed around her, and he could see a deep cut leaking blood from her forehead. He reached up and gently touched the wound. Maya winced and pulled away.
“Not Brother Owsley,” she said. “It was that last severe shock did the damage. Quite threw me ass over tits, and I banged my temple on the dining table.”
“Have they gone?”
“Wouldn’t know, Doc. Think so. Ran off like they’d messed their breeches.”