Eric rolled on the kitchen floor. This pain was worse than any other pain he’d ever had in his life.
Blood soaked his shirt from where the bullet had penetrated his arm.
He sucked in breath after ragged breath trying to get a grip on what had happened, but he’d hit his head when he fell and he thought perhaps he’d blacked out for a moment. But how many moments?
Eric coughed and his lungs burned.
Where was Bethany? Where was Douglas?
He coughed again.
The house was filled with smoke. He couldn’t pinpoint the source. He tried to crawl out, but with one arm the task seemed nearly impossible.
“Eric! Eric!” The voice broke through the smoke. “Where the hell are you son?”
It was Byron.
Eric coughed again and a moment later someone reached out for him.
“Let’s get you out of here. The back of the house is engulfed.”
“Beth…”
“We have to get to her. Brant has her. C’mon.”
Byron pulled him to his feet and led him through the front door.