Blood Red Road

the burnin cellblock.
    Saba! Ash screams. Come back! You got no boots on!
    I don’t stop.

    Smoke pours outta the door of the men’s cellblock. I wrap my cloak around my head to cover my mouth an nose. Then I plunge inside.
    Darkness. Hard to see. Smoke fills the air. Burns my throat, my nostrils, stings my eyes .
    It’s ezzackly the way it was in my dream. The fire dream. I’m here. It’s happenin.
    Jack! I shout. Jack! Where are you?
    No answer. Hungry flames lick at the wood beams in the walls an ceilin. Embers pop an hiss .
    He’s in the Cooler. The guy said so. But where is it? I know it’s sunk into the floor, but how far along the cellblock? Halfway? At the far end? It could be anywhere. He’ll be cooked to death in that metal box if I don’t git him out.
    I move ahead real careful, feelin my way with my hands an bare feet. I keep my eyes closed aginst the smoke. I ain’t never bin in here before, but I’m hopin the layout’s the same as in our cellblock. A ember lands on my cloak, hisses greedily as it burns a hole. I rub it out.
    Jack! I shout agin. Jack! Where are you?
    No reply. I go forwards. Call out agin. Take another couple of steps. Then another.
    The sound of a heartbeat. My heartbeat. Over an over. So loud. It fills my brain, my head .
    He must be in here. But what if he ain’t? What if that guy was wrong? What if somebody else told the Hawks he was in the Cooler an they found him an let him out? If they did, he’ll be long gone. I curse myself fer not askin Ruby.
    I cough. The smoke’s burnin my throat. It’s gittin hard to breathe. He ain’t here. If he was, he would of heard me an shouted out. I need to git outta here. I cough agin. My breath comes short an shallow.
    Panic grips me. I turn in circles, blind .
    Jest like in the dream.
    I’m bathed in sweat. It’s so hot in here. I’m startin to feel funny, kinda dizzy. I need air. Gotta git outta here an find the door. I should go back to the door.
    Another voice. Whisperin. Mercy’s voice .
    The heartstone lets you know  …  the heartstone  …  heartstone  …  hurry, Saba  …
    Heartstone. My hand fumbles unner my cloak. There it is. An it’s warm. Strange. It’s always cool. Even on the hottest day, next to my skin, it stays cool. It was only warm twice. An both times, I was standin in front of him. Warm heartstone means … it means somethin, Mercy said so but I cain’t … remember … cain’t … think …
    The heartstone  …  lets you know  …
    My fingers clutch it tightly. One last time. I’ll shout fer him one … last time. I take a couple of steps forwards. I feel the heartstone git warmer.
    Jack! Jack! Where are you? I call out.
    I wait.
    Nuthin.
    I turn to go.
    Then.
    I hear it.
    Poundin.
    A faint voice.
    He’s here.

    Strength floods through me. I stumble ahead, my eyes streamin, squintin through the smoke. My toe hits the edge of somethin. The trapdoor to the Cooler? I fall to my knees. Feel around. I touch hot metal. Yes! The door. I wrap my hand in my cloak an pound on it to let him know I’m here. He pounds back.
    Jack! I yell. Hang on! I’m gonna git you outta there!
    Keys. Quick. I feel the keys on the ring in my hand. My heart stops. There’s gotta be ten keys on here. All the same size.
    Jack! I yell. I got the keys! I jest gotta find the right one!
    He thumps to let me know he heard. I run my hand over the trapdoor. There it is. The keyhole. Try the first key. Gotta work fast. Faster. Too fast. Fingers clumsy. The key slips an slides past the keyhole.
    Fer each key I try, I hold the fingers of my other hand aginst the keyhole to guide it in. Then I snatch it away as soon as I know the key ain’t the right one. I grit my teeth.
    My hands is slippery with sweat. It’s runnin down my face, into my eyes. My heart’s poundin. Time’s runnin out. Once the roof timbers burn through, this ceilin’s gonna come down an that’ll be it.
    Hurry, hurry, hurry, I mutter.
    The second to last key slips in. I turn it. Leap to my feet. The second I touch the handle of the trapdoor to pull it up, I snatch my hand away, cursin. The metal’s hot. I throw my cloak over my hand, grab the handle an haul the door open.
    I reach down in the darkness. His hand shoots up, grabs mine with a strong grip. I lean back an help him climb out. He’s coughin. I pull my cloak over both of us.
    This way! I says. We head towards the door of the cellblock. To the outside an fresh air.
    The groan of