BUYING MY STEP SISTER PT 8
- 2 years ago
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Liv slammed the red phone into the receiver. She was shaking with rage. She slumped into the office chair and pounded her fists on the metal table. Finn rushed over to console her, but she pushed him away.
She contemplated her options, then stood. There were no tears. Instead, her eyes burned with anger. "That bastard's gonna pay. Fuckers burned down my house. My dad built that house and they fucking burned it down. And then they tried to kill us! Fuck 'em."
She stormed out of the room, snatching up the bunny slipper decoy along the way. "Bastard's got no manners; he got blood all over my slipper!" She poked a finger through a bullet hole. This time, the dead body lying on the floor at the base of the stairs didn't bother her. Her rage burned brightly, consuming all of her thoughts. She turned and raced back up the stairs.
Finn cautiously followed her. He had never seen her this way. Even after the shadowy group had burned down her house, she had still seemed sweet and good-spirited. That was gone. Murder filled her eyes. Whatever she had heard on the phone changed her.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Liv exchanged the slipper for a lighter in the Go Bag. She stomped over to the gas stove, reached behind it and yanked out a flexible, silver line. "Give me your Strider," she ordered. Finn complied, then rushed up the stairs to look for anything that might indicate who lived in the house. Finding nothing, he returned quickly. He was astounded by the sight in front of him.
Liv had finished sawing through the metal hose. Gas was hissing out, filling the kitchen. She grabbed her Go Bag and motioned for Finn to follow her into the adjoining living room. He closed the kitchen door behind them, trapping the foul smelling gas inside. She stormed over to the closet filled with tools and whipped out two cans of WD-40. She set one of the cans on a wooden end table next to a black leather couch and clenched the other in her left hand. With a smooth, well-practiced motion, she flipped the silver Zippo open by striking it across her jeans and sparking the flint at the same time.
The Zippo caught instantly and she tossed the flaming lighter into the air. As it rose, she grabbed the WD-40 that was sitting on the end table, pointed both cans at the flame and pushed down on the sprayers. The two streams of oil hit the open flame simultaneously, lighting with a brilliant flash. The smell of burning oil filled the air and the flames reflected an evil gleam in her eyes as the snuffed out lighter hit the ground with a thump.
In her best prim and proper voice, she spoke as she examined the room. "The décor is nice, but it's a bit boring and Spartan. I think it's time to redecorate. This place could really use a woman's touch. I'm thinking of starting with something timeless, something everyone can enjoy. Fire!"
Liv handed one of the roaring flamethrowers to Finn, then began torching the walls and furniture. Finn shrugged his shoulders and joined in. Under the circumstances, arson just seemed like the proper thing to do.
Once she was certain the fire was unstoppable, Liv dropped her flamethrower, grabbed her lighter and Go Bag and then headed to the front door. Finn lit a gaudy painting of clowns and kittens on fire, then dropped his can and followed her out the front door.
"We need to get the hell out of here before the flames reach the kitchen!" Finn warned as they broke into a run. They were halfway to the Starfire when the house exploded. The fireball turned night to day. A self destruct circuit in the control room, activated by the raging fire, triggered a massive secondary explosion. There would be nothing left for the fire department to find.
When the phone buzzed a second time, Max grew worried. The burglar alarm was one thing. There was a trained, heavily armed man inside the bunkhouse who would be able to take on just about any intruder. But the fire alarm, depicted by three mushroom clouds, was another story.
For the second time in as many days, the Eagles Landing volunteer fire department was called to put out a house fire.
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This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters in this story and any actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This story is copyright 2013 by Ayn Ryan. Permission is hereby given to share this story on the World Wide Web, provided that (a) no charge of any kind, including, but not limited to, subscription fees, is made in connection with access to the story, (b) the story is reprinted in its entirety, including this notice, and (c) proper credit is...
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