Kris’s first thought was that he must be seriously dehydrated from work because he was coughing as he woke up. He was dreaming he couldn’t breathe or swallow properly, when he realized it wasn’t just in his head. He couldn’t seem to breathe normally.

Then he opened his eyes.

They began to water, his coughing getting worse. What the hell? It was so dark. What was going on?

He covered his mouth with one hand as he spluttered. Why couldn’t he seem to get enough air into his lungs? With his other hand he fumbled with the lamp on his nightstand, pawing at the cord until he found the switch and clicked it on.

There was smoke in the room.

Panic took hold and had him standing up in his boxer-briefs in a flash. Now he was awake, he could hear a beeping coming from somewhere in the building.

A fire alarm.

This couldn’t be happening. There couldn’t actually be a fire in the bar, could there?

He ran across the room to his apartment door. At the last second, he pulled his hand back from the lock and looked at the back of the door. Then he touched the back of his knuckles against the wood.

It was hot.

“Fuck!” he cried, snatching his hand back as tears sprung to his eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He was so scared he couldn’t think straight. What the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn’t go out there. Who knew what state the place was in?

What time was it? How long ago had he locked up? His phone would tell him the time.

His phone. Call 911, a voice popped up in the back of his head.

Yes. He needed help, immediately. He fumbled his way back to his bed, already feeling light-headed. He snatched up whatever pair of jeans he found lying on the floor and shoved his legs through them. Whatever was going on, he didn’t think being almost entirely naked was a good idea.

His hands shook as he yanked the phone from its charger cable. He swiped the screen lock open and tried dialing the number. It took him two attempts to hit the correct three digits.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the woman on the end of the line said after a single ring.

“My building’s on fire!” Kris yelled, followed by a series of hacking coughs. He lunged for the window and shoved it open. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Smoke immediately began billowing out into the night. He looked down at the sidewalk dozens of feet below. “I can’t get out! It’s the bar on the corner of Jefferson and Row.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his terrified imagination at work, or if he really could hear the crackle of flames now. He snatched up a towel from his bathroom. Stumbling, he made his way back to the apartment door, laying the towel down at the crack between the base of the door and the wooden floor. That went a small way to stopping the smoke, at least.

“Please, please help,” he begged the dispatcher. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Help is on the way, sweetie,” the dispatcher told him firmly. “Stay low on the floor. Try and keep out of the smoke.”

“Okay,” Kris rasped. He dropped to his knees, sweat pouring from his skin. “Okay. How long until the firefighters get here?”

“A few minutes, hon,” the dispatcher said. She had a very reassuring voice, but Kris was still trembling in fright. “Where are you? Is there anyone else in the building?”

“I’m in the apartment,” Kris told her. He had to stop and cough again. “There’s only one, on the third floor. It’s above the bar. I don’t think there’s anyone else here.”

For a terrible moment he wished he hadn’t said that. If it was just him inside, would they really risk all those firefighters coming in to try and save him? But then the dispatcher’s voice was in his ear again. Of course they would come. They had to.

“Okay, stay there,” the dispatcher instructed. “Help is on the way. Don’t move.”

“I won’t,” Kris promised.

The line went dead.

He choked down a sob and howled, balling up his fists. What the fuck was going on? How had this happened? Was he going to die here?

No. He was not going to fucking die. He was going to be rescued by a hunky fireman and everything would be fine.

He couldn’t say the same about his apartment, though.

“Tay Tay!” he gasped, making himself splutter again. The smoke was getting thicker, but in the lamplight, he could see his fish swimming around her tank, flicking her tail in agitation. “Shit!”

He knew the dispatcher had told him to stay on the floor, but he wasn’t about to abandon his Tay Tay. So he crawled across the floor, pushing his crap aside as he did. His hand happened to land on a tote bag and he made a snap decision.

He grabbed the bag as he continued to crawl, chucking the phone he still had clutched in his other hand inside. It took less than a second to yank the charger from the wall and add that beside the phone. Then, only because it was in reach, he also grabbed his makeup bag. There was hundreds of dollars’ worth of supplies in there. He wasn’t going to let it all melt if he didn’t have to.

Once he reached the bed, he used it to pull himself up next to the tank. He reached above the bubbling water to the shelf where he kept Tay Tay’s supplies, including the large Tupperware box he used to scoop her out when he cleaned her tank.

He was coughing nonstop now and tears were streaming down his face. Not just from the fear, but also a reaction to the smoke in his eyes. The open window didn’t seem to be doing anything much anymore to clear the air. Kris blinked rapidly and clung to the side of the tank, plunging his hand into the water with the bottom half of the plastic box.

“Come on,” he cried as he tried to catch Tay Tay without bashing any of her long, flowing fins. But she was scared as well and flitting around in a state. Kris let out another sob. His head was killing him and it was getting harder and harder to take proper breaths. “Come on!” he yelled in frustration. The poor girl was too scared, though.

He stopped moving, making himself take as slow a breath as he dared. He was getting really dizzy.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered, holding the box still.

Tay Tay turned, her tail twitching. Then she cautiously swam toward his hand.

He let out a nervous laugh, his lip cracking as he smiled. He tasted blood. “Come up, little one,” he urged as he gently scooped her up. “That’s it. In you go.”

His hand was shaking, but he slowly lifted her and the water inside the Tupperware up. More water streamed from his arm onto the floor as he grabbed the lid, jammed it on and dropped his body back down below the thickest layer of smoke.

His coughing wouldn’t stop and he felt like he couldn’t really catch his breath. Clutching Tay Tay’s box to his naked chest, he threw the handle of the tote bag over his shoulder and hugged his few possessions to his belly.

It had occurred to him before that his room didn’t have a fire escape outside. But he’d always idly thought if anything major happened, he’d scale a drain pipe or something.

There was no way he was doing that. There was maybe one pipe he could try and climb, but it was several feet away from his window. He was much more likely to slip and fall and break every bone in his body.

“Please. Please,” he whispered as he lay down and curled into a ball, Tay Tay nestled between him and the tote bag. He could hear the sirens getting closer. Through the smoke, he tried to keep his gaze on the door, but it was difficult when his eyes were streaming so much. He didn’t think the flames were actually at his room yet. He couldn’t make out any bright light or flickering around the edges of the door. He could hear the blaze roaring, though.

He just had to hold on a little longer. When the firefighters got here, they would save him. That was what they did.

He screwed up his eyes and cursed as much as he could when he was coughing and spluttering. Talking took up too much energy, though, so he swallowed with a sandpaper-dry mouth and tried to save his strength.

It was too easy with his eyes closed, however. Darkness was enveloping him. He felt sleepy and sluggish. His breaths were too shallow. Was he drowning? What was happening?

He clung to whatever was in his arms for dear life. Maybe that would keep him safe? Lead him home.

There was wailing in the air, loud and piercing. It sounded sad.

Kris was sad. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay. He wanted to sleep.

“Please,” he murmured, hugging tightly to his box. “Please.”

The darkness was too much. He couldn’t fight it. All he could do was try and hold on as he slipped away, and hope it was enough.