Read Remembering Dresden (Jack Turner Suspense Series Book 2) for Free Online

wind.
    “We have to get out of here,” the father yelled, not just to his family but to anyone who would listen. “Get back across the bridge to the other side. The fires will be here soon and this wind—the fire is causing it. Can’t you see? It’s sucking the air all around it into itself. If we stay here, we’ll be sucked into the flames.”
    What a horrible thought. Luther got up. He had to crouch to fight against the wind. He glanced over his shoulder at the wall of flame, now only a few hundred yards away. The father was right. Closer to the edge of the flames, Luther saw all kinds of objects being lifted off the ground and sucked into the fire. They had to get away.
    The father started leaving, heading toward the foot of the bridge. Luther followed but noticed over half the people stayed put, unwilling or unable to move. Those who did leave walked quickly but each step filled Luther with fear. To get to the foot of the bridge they had to backtrack a bit and actually move toward the flames. The wind was so strong, Luther was afraid it would suck him right in. He moved to the middle of the small crowd to shield himself.
    Finally, they made it to the bridge and began to cross. The wind picked up speed with each step. A third of the way there, Luther heard screaming over the stone rail. He looked and saw a large number of people fleeing from the buildings closest to the river. Some were already on fire. When they tried to cross the road that ran along the river, something terrible happened.
    It took a few moments for Luther to realize what he was seeing. The people only got so far across the street, screaming in agony the whole while. One by one they stopped, as if their feet could not take another step. Luther realized why. The asphalt on the street had melted from the heat. Their shoes were becoming stuck in the liquid tar. Seconds later, they’d fall right into it and their bodies would catch fire.
    He couldn’t watch any longer.
    The wind had become even worse halfway across the river. Luther had to hold tight to the railing with each step. Their group was met by another group going the other way, toward the flames. For a brief moment, Luther got excited, because it looked like another combination of firemen and Hitler Youth. But Ernst was not among them.
    The father who led their group yelled to their leader, a middle-aged man. “You have to stop, or you’ll all die. The fires are almost to the riverbank, and this wind. It’s because of the fire. It’s sucking all the oxygen into itself.”
    “We have our orders,” the older man said. “There are people over there who need our help. Step aside.”
    “Please,” the father pleaded. “Turn back. It’s too late to help.”
    The fireman ignored him and continued leading his group toward the fire. As they crossed paths, Luther looked at the faces of some of the youth. Their eyes looked straight ahead, terrified by the sight. It made him shudder to think Ernst would have been led by someone just as foolish. And that Ernst might already be….
    Luther couldn’t finish the thought. He kept walking, one foot after the other, against the hot, violent wind. Soon it became too hard. His legs started feeling weak. An extra strong gust knocked him on his behind. He started to roll down the bridge, the wrong way. He couldn’t stop or get up. “Ernst!” he screamed, not knowing why.
    The wind dragged him a few feet more then someone grabbed his wrist. “Give me your other hand.” Luther looked up. It was the father. Luther did, and the man pulled him to his feet. He helped Luther back to the group he’d been leading. He took the child he had been holding back from its mother and they all continued their trek. The father held Luther’s hand. Luther was more than happy to let him.
    Right when they reached the far side, they heard shouts and screams coming from the other end of the bridge. Luther let go of the father’s hand and braced himself behind a stone