He breathed hard in the night
air.
As he watched, two fire trucks cleared the corner, going the wrong way
down one-way Augusta, speeding toward him. He looked at Billy.
"What?"
"Is Kurt all right?"
"Sure, he's fine." He thought a moment. "The ambulance man will want to
talk with him, he said. "And the TV people, soon.
"Let's get out of here," Brad said.
"All right," he said. "Now you're talking."
Though it was only three or four blocks back to Adam's place, it took
the better part of half an hour, relying on the back alleys and the dark
to cover his retreat, hoping that the ambulance drivers and firefighters
wouldn't catch him here. Having to lug Kurt made him especially suspect,
and he didn't have a single good explanation for being caught toting
around an unconscious punk in the dead of night.
"Come on, Brent," Adam said. "Let's get home and put this one to bed and
you and me have a nice chat."
"You don't want me to call an ambulance?"
Kurt startled at this and his head lolled back, one eye opened a crack.
"No," Alan said. "No ambulances. No cops. No firemen. Just me and
him. I'll make him better," he said.
The smoke smell was terrible and pervaded everything, no matter which
direction the wind blew from.
Adam was nearly home when he realized that his place and his lover and
everything he cared about in the entire world were *also* on fire, which
couldn't possibly be a coincidence.
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