And behind that,
tall flames flickered, shockingly red and orange against the grey smoke.
“Get out of my
way!” Patrick roared.
“No!” Curtis
hung onto the sleeve of Patrick’s coat, trying to hold him back. “Don’t go in,
you bloody idiot, it was an explosion! The police and fire brigade’s on its
way—”
“Lee’s in
there!”
“What the fuck?”
Curtis pulled back.
Patrick didn’t
bother with any more explanation, let alone civility. He pushed open the door
and stumbled into the shop. The smells hit him at once: the pungency of burning
electrics, followed swiftly by the acrid smoke of a fire. He kept a small fire
extinguisher by the counter which he grabbed up on his way to the kitchen.
“Lee! Can you hear me? Are you there? Lee!”
Over the hubbub
outside the shop and sirens in the background, Patrick strained to hear any
reply. Nothing. He kicked the broken kitchen door aside, activated the
extinguisher and charged into the room. The smoke was at its heaviest here,