The Cell Tower

My hands were slick with soot and sweat as I tried to unlock the phone. *Incorrect Passcode.*

I tried again. *Incorrect.*

"Dammit!" I slammed the burner against the stone wall of the priest hole. I had a signal—one fragile, flickering bar—but the phone was useless if I couldn't get it to connect.

"Is he gone?" Arthur whispered from the shadows.

"He jumped," I said, my voice hollow. "Into the fire."

"He always liked the dramatic exit," Arthur murmured, closing his eyes.

I looked at the phone. It was a cheap prepaid model I had bought at the gas station. I didn't know the default code.

But I knew where to get a signal.

"We have to go up," I said.

"Up?" Arthur asked. "The house is burning."

"The roof," I said. "The vent. It's the only way."

I helped Arthur to his feet. He leaned heavily on me, his frailty a stark contrast to the strength he had shown in the library.

We crawled back into the tunnel. The heat was intense now, radiating through the stone walls. The fire from the carriage house was spreading fast.

We reached the junction where the tunnel split. One way led to the crypt. The other... to the old servants' stairs.

It was blocked by rubble.

"Trapped," Arthur said.

"No," I said, shining the phone light upward.

Above us, a narrow shaft rose into the darkness. A ventilation duct for the original coal furnace. It was brick, covered in soot, but it had iron rungs set into the side.

"Can you climb?" I asked.

Arthur looked at the ladder. "Thirty years ago, maybe."

"You have to," I said. "Or we die here."

I pushed him toward the ladder. He groaned as he reached for the first rung.

I followed him, my back pressed against the opposite wall to brace myself. The air grew hotter as we climbed, the smoke thickening.

We climbed past the first floor. Past the second.

We reached the attic level.

The shaft ended at a grate.

I pushed against it. It was rusted shut.

"Move," I told Arthur.

I climbed past him, squeezing into the narrow space. I kicked the grate. Once. Twice.

It gave way with a screech of tearing metal.

We tumbled out onto the roof.

The rain was a deluge, instantly soaking us, washing away the soot. But the heat from below was terrifying. The shingles were warm to the touch.

We were on the flat section of the roof, nestled between two gables. Below us, the fire raged, consuming the library and the study.

I looked at the phone.

Two bars.

I dialed 911.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"My name is Helen Vance," I shouted over the roar of the fire. "I'm at the Vance Estate. The house is on fire. My husband is dead. My brother-in-law is dead."

"Ma'am, units are already on the scene," the operator said. "Are you safe?"

"No," I said. "I'm on the roof. And I have evidence."

"Stay on the line, Ma'am."

"I can't," I said. "I have to send something."

I hung up.

I opened the cloud app on the burner phone. I logged in using the sequence. *10-14-95.*

The files were there. The ledger. The birth certificate. The photos of the fake autopsy.

And one new file.

*Audio_Recording_001.mp3.*

It had uploaded automatically when I had the phone in my pocket.

During the standoff on the bridge.

During James's confession.

I hit *Send*.

*Uploading... 20%...*

A noise from the chimney.

A scraping sound.

I looked over.

A hand reached out of the chimney pot. A hand covered in burns and soot.

Then a face.

Simon.

He pulled himself out of the chimney, gasping for air. He was alive. Burned, broken, but alive.

He saw us.

He saw the phone.

"Give it to me," he rasped, crawling across the shingles.

"It's over, Simon," I said. "The police are here."

"It's never over," he snarled.

He lunged for me.

I scrambled back, slipping on the wet slate. I nearly went over the edge.

Simon grabbed my ankle.

"The phone!" he screamed.

I kicked him in the face. He grunted, but didn't let go.

I looked at the screen.

*Uploading... 80%...*

"Let go!" I yelled.

I kicked him again. Harder.

He slid backward.

But he took the phone with him.

It skittered across the roof, toward the edge. toward the fire below.

"No!" I screamed.

I dove for it.

My fingers brushed the plastic casing.

I grabbed it.

But my momentum carried me forward.

I slid toward the edge.

"Helen!" Arthur shouted.

He grabbed my coat. He pulled with all his strength.

I stopped. My legs dangled over the abyss of fire.

I looked at the phone in my hand.

*Upload Complete.*

I looked at Simon.

He was clinging to the gutter, staring at me with pure hatred.

"You ruined everything," he whispered.

Then the gutter gave way.

He fell.

Into the inferno.