Chapter 11 - Through the Infernal Wall
The dry, ancient wood of the wine racks and timber supports caught fire instantly, fueled by the spilled kerosene. Flames roared toward the low wooden ceiling beams, filling the subterranean chamber with thick, blinding black smoke and blistering heat.
"Dad!" Toby’s frantic scream pierced through the roaring fire.
"Toby! Stay back against the wall!" Daniel bellowed.
Victoria was visible through the wall of flame, her crazy silhouette backing away toward the deep rear corner of the foundation wall, laughing hysterically as the fire spread along the wooden cratings, threatening to cut off any escape route.
Daniel didn't hesitate. He pulled his field jacket over his head, shielding his face, and charged directly through the burning wine rack.
The intense heat scorched his skin, the smell of burning wool and ancient timber filling his nostrils as he crashed through the flaming structure, kicking burning wood aside. He burst through the fire, stumbling into the alcove where the children were trapped.
He dropped to his knees, wrapping his jacket around Toby and Clara, pulling them tightly into his chest.
"I've got you! Hold onto me!" Daniel shouted over the crackle of the blaze.
The smoke was thickening rapidly, rising toward the low ceiling and creeping down like a suffocating black blanket. The single exit stairs were now obscured by a wall of intense orange flames and falling, burning debris. They were trapped in the rear of the basement.
Daniel looked around frantically.
Victoria was standing in the dark corner behind the open cavity in the stone wall. In her madness, she had realized too late that she had trapped herself as well. The flames were licking at her trench coat, and the thick smoke was forcing her to choke and gasp for air, her mason's hammer dropping uselessly to the floor.
"Daniel..." she gasped, her hands clawing at her throat, her eyes wide with sudden, terrifying realization of her own mortality. "Help me... the door... I can't breathe..."
Daniel looked at her with cold, unyielding eyes. He didn't move toward her. His primary, absolute duty was the two small lives shivering beneath his coat.
"Toby," Daniel said, his voice firm despite the coughing fit racking his lungs. "Remember the old coal chute? Behind the woodpile?"
Toby nodded frantically through his tears, pointing toward a low iron hatch embedded near the top of the foundation wall five feet away—a narrow chute once used to slide coal from the driveway outside down into the basement.
"It's rusted shut, Dad!" Toby choked out.
Daniel picked up Clara with his left arm, grabbed Toby with his right hand, and rushed toward the woodpile beneath the iron hatch. He set the children down behind the stack of timber, protecting them from the heat, and raised his heavy brass-headed fireplace poker—which he had tucked back into his belt—and slammed it against the rusted iron latch of the coal chute.
CLANG!
The rust held firm.
CLANG! CLANG!
The fire raged closer, the wooden ceiling beams above beginning to groan under the intense heat, sending sparks showering down like dying stars.
"Daniel! Please!" Victoria's frantic, choked scream echoed through the smoke as she collapsed to her knees, surrounded by fire, her hands reaching out hopelessly toward him.
Daniel ignored her. He gathered all his strength, planting his boots against the stone wall, and kicked the heavy iron hatch with all his power.
CRACK-BOOM!
The ancient, rusted latch snapped. The heavy iron hatch swung outward into the rainy night air, allowing a glorious stream of freezing, fresh oxygen and pouring rainwater to rush into the smoke-filled cellar.
"Toby, go!" Daniel hoisted his son up toward the narrow opening. "Crawl out onto the lawn! Pull Clara up after you!"
Toby scrambled up the angled metal chute with desperate speed, reaching the top and poking his head out into the pouring rain. Daniel passed the sleeping, coughing infant up into Toby's waiting arms. Toby grabbed his sister, pulling her safely out onto the wet grass outside.
"Now you, Dad! Hurry!" Toby cried from above.
Daniel grabbed the edge of the iron chute, preparing to haul himself up. He stopped for a split second and looked back into the roaring inferno of the basement.
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Victoria was lying on the dirt floor, consumed by the smoke and rising heat, her hand outstretched toward the hollow cavity in the stone wall—the empty crypt where her family's dark secret had rested for a century. She had sacrificed her life, her sanity, and her humanity for a pile of old dirt and stolen ledgers.
Daniel didn't offer a hand. He turned away, pulled himself up through the narrow coal chute, and hauled his body out into the torrential, freezing rain.
