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There was a “snap” and then the concussion of the explosion threw Clint back against the far wall of the building on the opposite side of the alley. His ears were ringing, the breath knocked out of his lungs. The flames shot out of the downstairs window toward him causing him to scramble backwards along the ground, finally he gained his footing and was able to turn and run. As he turned the corner onto the main street, sleepy store owners and stunned late night patrons of Charlie’s were stumbling into the street, trying to comprehend the scene in front of them. As if in a silent slow motion movie, people began to react.
The newly varnished and painted walls of the Belle hotel fueled the fireball, burning first blue, then crimson, then white. By the time the fire line had been organiz
