Free Set Me Free by London Setterby Page A

he?”
    “What? Where are you? What’s that sound?”
    A gust of fire swept down onto the front porch, snapping beams in half, scattering charred splinters across the yard.
    Stifling a cough, I told her about the Lodge, and about Owen. “I’m going in after him,” I said, steeling myself.
    “Do not go inside!” Kaye exclaimed. “Are you insane? The fire department will be there in a minute. I’m going to call Muscles. He’s on duty tonight. For God’s sake, do not go inside .”
    She hung up. I clutched my phone and stared at the fire, my chest aching with the effort to breathe.
    Someone ran up the beach, but instead of Kaye or Andy, it was Rusty, puffing as he took the steps up to the Lodge two at a time. “Fuck, man! What the hell happened?”
    I shot him an irritated look that I immediately regretted: Rusty’s face was incredibly serious. He held his hat in his hand, pressed against his chest, as if he were in church.
    Despite Kaye’s advice and my own better judgment, I couldn’t stand by while Owen was in danger. I picked my way towards the house through the scrub and the simmering heat, wondering if the fire could jump to the dead grass behind me and encircle me.
    When I reached the side door, I touched my palms against it, just like Owen had. It felt warm, but not hot. I pushed it open the rest of the way. Smoke poured out, searing my eyes and throat. Wiping my streaming eyes on my sleeve, I stepped forwards again.
    Suddenly, my vision cleared, revealing Owen standing before me, holding a limp, sagging figure in his arms. A shirt covered most of the figure’s face, but tell-tale black glasses poked above the fabric. I jerked backwards out of the way. Owen lurched forwards and fell onto his knees. Matthew tumbled out of his arms onto the rocky sand.
    “Are you all right? And Matthew—he’s not—?” I dropped to my knees across from Owen, with Matthew in between us. I reached out to touch Owen, but pulled back at the last minute and wiped the sweat and soot from my face instead.
    “He’s alive.” Owen braced his hands on the ground, coughing. “Unconscious. Breathed in a lot of smoke.”
    With a crack , a chunk of roof snapped off and crashed onto the rocks beside us, sending fragments of ash into air, close enough to singe our clothes.
    “We have to move him away from here,” I said urgently.
    Owen nodded and wedged his hands under Matthew’s shoulders and knees. He heaved, but Matthew didn’t budge. Owen’s ash-smudged face was pale, his breathing rattling and rough.
    “Rusty!” I shouted over my shoulder, straining to see Rusty through the smoke billowing out of the door. “Rusty, where are you?”
    Grabbing Matthew’s shoulder myself, I tried to help Owen lift him, but I couldn’t stop shaking, and Matthew was much too heavy for me. I sat back on my heels, struggling for breath, while the fire continued to tear the roof apart. We had to get him to safety, but the task seemed impossible.
    Then—at last—sirens wailed in the distance. Louder and louder, slicing through the roar of the fire. Blue lights strobed through orange flames. Suddenly, people in uniform were surrounding us, ushering me and Owen away from the house. Two EMTs lifted Matthew onto a stretcher and wheeled him away, towards an ambulance idling behind what had once been the Lodge.
    I glanced up at Owen where we stood in the scrub grass. He coughed again, and I opened my mouth to say that he should go to the hospital, too. Then Officer Not-Rhys appeared in the smoke, his expression colder than ever. My heart sank.
    “Larsen,” Not-Rhys barked. “What are you doing here?”
    Owen tried to speak, but immediately devolved into another coughing fit. He gestured at the ambulance. Not-Rhys just frowned at him.
    I glanced from one man to the other, my anxiety at the sight of Not-Rhys fighting with my desire to defend Owen. “Don’t you get it? He got Matthew out of the house. He saved him!”
    Not-Rhys turned to me,