A second later she was running blindly back to Bob. When she opened the door, the fresh air made the flames leap forward with a roar. She slammed the door closed, knowing they only had a few minutes. Picking up the garbage bags, now filled with water instead of snow, she put them in front of the door. That might buy them a minute or two.

Bob’s face was pale and damp with sweat, but he’d managed to sit up, his legs sticking off the side of the bed. His eyes were closed, his face drawn with pain.

Leaning out the window, Bridget shook out the shower curtain until it was as flat as she could make it. She padded the sill with the blanket. Then she stood on Bob’s bad side. “Put your arm around me and your other hand on the table, and stand up. It’s, like, three hops, maximum, to the window. Then you’ll just sit on the sill and let yourself drop back into the snow.”

No time to worry about how neither of them were dressed for freezing weather. How they didn’t have shoes. Tendrils of smoke were curling past the door’s outlines.

His eyes opened, caught the light. They were watery, but suddenly his focus sharpened. “What about the book?”

“You can always write another book. But there’s only one you. Now, on my count of three.” She bent her knees. “One.” His arm clamped around her shoulder. “Two.” His fingers tightened. “Three.” She groaned and he moaned as she straightened up and he put his weight on his left leg.

He was standing.

“Okay. Just a couple of hops. One!” His weight almost dragged her off balance as he barely moved an inch. “Two!” He moved his hand further up the nightstand and then hopped just another few inches. “Three!” Three hops hadn’t even cleared the nightstand. “Okay, just a few more and then you can sit on the windowsill.”

Bob’s breathing sounded like a train trying to build up a head of steam. But finally they reached the window. Bridget tightened her arm around his waist as he took his hand from the nightstand and reached for the sill. But as he did, his bad foot touched the floor. He stiffened like he’d touched a live wire. With a shriek, he tumbled outside.

Her stomach convulsed. Bob lay sprawled on his side, looking lifeless, only half on the shower curtain. It was a relief when he twitched. By now, flames were licking on all sides of the door behind her.