It spreads faster than either of them had intended, and for a brief series of moments Tom is convinced it won't work. They'd fucked themselves and boxed this private nightmare in with fire. Excellent. Wonderful. What they hell had they been -

But just then, three men stumble out of the front door, shouting to eachother.

"Fuck, look at that, what the fuck happened - where the fuck is Steve -"

"Dead," someone else shouted back, hauling hose out of a rusted closet at the end of the block, desperately using a wrench to coax the sad looking hydrant open. "Somebody's really fucking clever."

"Let the brats out too," a third man said. They had to shout now over the sound of the flames. "Watch yourselves, boys, we got a comedian on our hands."

Crouched behind the weak cover provided by corrugated metal and scrap, Tom glanced at Mike beside him and leveled his shot, taking aim.

"Here we go."