Chapter 6 - Into the Flames
The smoke spread with terrifying speed. In less than ten seconds, the corridor leading to the back office was engulfed in a thick, choking fog that burned my eyes and rasped in my throat.
"Mommy?!" Lucy’s voice rose in a terrified shriek from inside the office. "Mommy, I can't see!"
"I'm coming, baby! Stay down on the floor!"
I pulled my shirt up over my nose and mouth, dropping to my hands and knees to crawl beneath the rising smoke layer. The heat was unbearable, radiating off the kitchen wall like a blast furnace. The old wiring in the ceiling began to pop, sparking blinding blue flashes through the darkness.
I reached the office door and threw it open. Lucy was huddled under the desk, clutching her sunflower backpack to her chest, her eyes wide with terror as smoke poured in through the vents.
"Come here!" I grabbed her, pulling her close against my body, wrapping my jacket over her head. "Hold onto me! Don't let go!"
We crawled back out into the main hallway, but the path to the front entrance was completely blocked by a wall of roaring orange fire. The wooden booths were catching fire, the old vinyl cushions melting into toxic black slush.
The back door was blocked by the initial blast. The front door was impassable.
We were trapped.
"Help!" I screamed, banging my hand against the side of the metal ice machine. "HELP US!"
Outside, I heard the sound of heavy footsteps crashing against the reinforced side door. Someone was throwing their entire body weight against the deadbolt.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
"SOFIA! LUCY!" Marcus’s voice roared through the wood.
"WE'RE INSIDE!" I screamed back, coughing violently as smoke filled my lungs. "THE DOORS ARE JAMMED!"
"STAND BACK FROM THE WALL!" Marcus shouted.
A second later, there was the deafening roar of an engine. The headlights of Marcus's heavy SUV smashed through the side wooden wall of the storage room, splintering the frame and sending cinder blocks flying inward!
Dust and debris filled the air, but through the gaping hole in the wall, the cool, wet night air rushed in, sweeping away some of the suffocating smoke.
Marcus jumped out of the driver's seat, his face covered in soot, a heavy crowbar in his hand. He reached through the wreckage and scooped Lucy up into his massive arms.
"I got her!" Marcus yelled, handing her through the broken wall to another security guard waiting outside. Then he reached back in for me. "Sofia, give me your hand!"
I reached out, but as Marcus pulled me through the opening, I looked back at the burning interior of El Sol.
The framed photograph of my late husband—the one taken on the day we opened the restaurant eight years ago—was still hanging on the wall right next to the register. The frame was scorching, the glass cracking from the heat.
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"Sofia! We have to go! The propane tanks in the back are going to vent!" Marcus warned, tugging at my arm.
"Wait!" I broke free from his grip, lunged back into the smoke-filled room, grabbed the wooden frame off the wall, and scrambled back through the broken structure just as a massive fireball erupted from the kitchen line, blowing the remaining roof tiles high into the San Antonio night.
