The smoke alarm screamed like a dying animal.
Zara bolted upright in bed, heart slamming against her ribs. The air was already thick, acrid, burning her throat. She coughed hard, eyes stinging as she scrambled for the lamp. Nothing. Power was out.
“Mia!” she gasped, throwing off the thin blanket.
Her six-year-old daughter slept in the next room, curled up with her stuffed giraffe. Zara’s bare feet slapped against the warm floor as she ran. The hallway glowed an unnatural orange. Flames licked up the far wall, greedy and fast, blocking the only exit.
“Baby, wake up!” Zara shook Mia’s small shoulder. The girl stirred, confused, then whimpered as the roar of fire grew louder.
“Mommy?”
“We have to go. Now.”
Zara scooped Mia into her arms, pressing the girl’s face against her shoulder. S
