Tucking the photo in my purse and ducking my head through the strap, I wind it across my body, then crawl back to my phone and place it inside. I keep my head down, like the operator said, and I don’t lift it again until my door opens. Black boots and yellow pants fill my vision. Smoke billows into my room, burning my eyes.
“I’ve got you,” a voice says, a man I think, and his arms wrap around my body. Hope and relief surge through me as he lifts, draping me over his upper back. He steps through my bedroom door, and even though the danger is still present, it all feels like it will be behind me soon.
Another firefighter meets us halfway up the stairs. “The fire is at the back of the house,” he yells. “But the wind shifted, and it’s coming this way.”
With my thighs and arms pinned to the firefighter’s body, he hurries down the stairs.
From my upside down position, I see it. Fire. It is not mesmerizing or beautiful or any of the nice things I thought about fire before now. It’s a monster, eating its way through my home, swallowing the kitchen and licking at the dining room walls.
The firefighter exits the front door, sideways first and then turning to face the street. He clears the house, hurrying down the narrow path that bisects the front yard.
Applause. Cheering. Shouting.
Police officers. Blue and red lights flashing on the top of an ambulance. A crowd of pajama-clad neighbors.
He sets me on my feet, but I buckle. He catches me. My eyes burn as I try to orient myself, tearing though I don’t think I’m crying. Someone takes me from his arms. I lean heavily on them, and then I’m lifted. I’m wheeled away, then lifted again, and now I’m in the back of an ambulance.
An oxygen mask goes over my nose. I am examined. A flashlight shines in my eyes. My pulse is checked. Questions lobbed at me. I do my best to answer them.
An EMT grips both doors, moving to close them. My arm shoots out, my other hand sliding the oxygen mask from my mouth.
“I’m fine,” I croak. It’s the first time I’ve spoken since I was on the phone with the operator. My phone, tucked safely in the purse fastened around my body. But all my other belongings. Oh God.
Beside me, the EMT who examined me speaks. “You’ve experienced a lot of smoke inhalation. We’re going to get you checked out by a doctor.” She nods at the man standing outside, next to the open doors of the ambulance. A second person stands beside him.
The firefighter? My eyes are tearing so badly, I can only see an outline. I cannot tell if he is looking at me. And I have no idea if he’s the man who saved me.
The doors close, and I’m whisked away from the nightmare. Funny thing is, the nightmare is still there, the blaze still burning. The only difference now is that I’m no longer a part of it.
CHAPTER 2
My little sisteryells my name a second before she flings herself into the emergency room bay.
Camryn, brown hair wild around her face and wearing a pajama top that readsNo Drama Llama, rushes to my bedside. Her gaze slides over me, frenzied. “Your neighbor called. Not the busybody who watches everyone, the other one who knows Dad. Nancy." She assesses me head to toe. "Are you ok?”
It hurts to speak. I touch my throat, hoping she gets the message, and offer a thumbs-up.
Her eyes flare. “You can’t speak? But your throat is ok, right?” She grabs my hand with one of her own, shaking it over the clean but worn sheet. “You could speak if you had to?”
I nod again, more emphatically this time as a scene from The Little Mermaid dances somewhere in the back of my mind.
“Thank God.” Camryn glances at the ceiling, dropping my hand to park prayer hands in front of her chest. She looks back at me. “Nancy told me your house caught fire.” Tears shine in her eyes. “She said the flames went into the sky.”
Cam waits for me to confirm Nancy’s assertion, but I was too busy being inside the house to know what it looked like from theoutside. If I could speak, I’d say that, and then Camryn would give me a dirty look. I settle for shrugging, and the doctor who examined me when I arrived strides into the bay.
“How are you feeling, Ms. Burke?” Dr. Booker assesses me with a quick glance. He’s young, handsome, and no-nonsense.
“Ok,” I rasp.
Camryn steps to the end of my bed. She smiles shamelessly, forgetting what she’s wearing and the state of her hair. “Can you tell me more about what happened to my big sister? It hurts her to speak, so I’m still mostly in the dark.”
I’d roll my eyes if they didn’t feel like someone poured hot desert sand in them.
A smile tugs at the corner of the doctor’s mouth. I’m not surprised. Camryn can charm the skin off a snake, according to our father.
“Your sister was in a house fire. She experienced smoke inhalation, but I wouldn’t call it an injury. The only prescription for it is time and rest.” He looks at me. “I’ve seen much, much worse, Ms. Burke. You’re very lucky.”
“Thank you,” I manage haltingly.
