The heat inside the front foyer felt like a physical wall slamming into my chest. Smoke hung thick and heavy, turning the grand chandelier above into a dim, swinging shadow. I pulled my damp apron over my mouth and ducked low, crawling past the burning tapestries that lined the sweeping staircase.
Clara: Leo! Can you hear me? Leo!
A muffled sob answered me from the second-floor hallway, cut short by a violent coughing fit.
Leo: Help me! I can't move!
Clara: Hold on, sweetie! I’m coming!
I took the stairs three at a time, ignoring the burning embers popping against my shoes. The upper corridor was completely filled with blinding grey smoke that made my eyes burn with tears. I kicked open the heavy oak door to the master bedroom, where orange flames were already crawling up the silk drapes toward the ceiling.
Leo: Clara? Clara, is that you?
Little Leo sat huddled in his steel wheelchair near the far corner of the bedroom. The wheels were jammed against a fallen beam that was glowing red with heat. His small face was covered in grey soot, tears cutting clean tracks down his cheeks as he gripped the armrests with white knuckles.
Clara: I'm right here, Leo! Don't look at the fire, look at me!
Leo: You came for me!
Clara: Of course I came. I’m not going anywhere without you.
I unbuckled the safety strap holding his legs and reached down, lifting his small body out of the chair. He wrapped his thin arms tightly around my neck, burying his face in my shoulder as he sobbed softly.
Leo: My dad... my dad and Victoria ran out first. They saw me calling from the window and they didn't stop.
Clara: Don't think about them right now. Hold on tight to my neck, okay? We have to move fast.
A loud crash shook the floorboards as the heavy center beam of the bedroom ceiling snapped, dropping a shower of burning plaster onto the wheelchair. The flames surged higher, cutting off the main doorway.
Leo: We're trapped! Clara, we can't get out!
Clara: Yes we can. Look at the servant exit over there by the closet. It leads straight down to the kitchen patio.
Leo: But that door is always locked from the outside!
Clara: I have the master key right here in my pocket. Hold your breath, Leo!
I lunged toward the narrow wooden door near the back closet, shifting Leo’s weight in my arms as a beam crashed behind us. My hands trembled as I jammed the brass key into the lock and twisted it. The latch clicked, and I kicked the door open, feeling a rush of cooler air from the narrow rear stairwell.
Leo: It opened!
Clara: Hang on tight, sweetie! We're almost out!
I ran down the steep wooden steps, shielding Leo’s head with my arms as pieces of burning insulation rained down from the ceiling rafters above us.