Thick smoke was whirling into the room, and Chris could see the living-room was ablaze with fire.
He shielded his son’s face against his shoulders.
He quickly went out, noticing that Ato was groaning and coughing on the floor, bleeding profusely from his temple.
There was no sign of Jamie.
Chris took his son outside.
“Go to the edge of the woods, son,” he said gently. “That would be safe enough. Will be with you soon.”
For a moment Junior would not let go. He whimpered and clung to his father, evidently afraid of being separated again, of being forced to live the horrors his grandfather and uncles had forced on him.
He trembled and wept, his skinny arms tight around Chris’ neck.
“It’s alright, son, you’re alright,” Chris said with passion, forcing back his own tears. “I won’t let a
