He wasn’t there.
The fear turned into something else. Something stronger and so visceral that she could feel it with every part of her body.
She jumped out of bed and grabbed her phone. The call had barely rung before the operator picked up.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“There’s a fire in my house! A big one. I need the fire department here as quickly as possible.” She rattled off her address before hanging up, not even waiting for the lady over the line to respond.
She moved toward the doorway, coughs starting to rack her chest.
Her stomach dropped. It wasn’t just her hall that was enveloped in flames. It was everything. There was no way through!
The ice in her veins competed with the heat around her.
If Charlie wasn’t with her, he’d likely be in the laundry room with his food and water bowl. Her gaze flew to her bedroom window. There was an external window in the laundry. She could access the room from outside. It was locked but she could break the glass.
She slammed her bedroom door closed, grabbed a towel from her bathroom and sprinted toward her bedroom window. Cool, fresh air blew into the room the second she got it open, sending goose bumps running over her arms.
She jumped out, the grass cold beneath her feet. Then she ran, sprinting around her house, ignoring the air that burned as it whipped in and out of her already sore lungs. When she reached the laundry window at the back of her house, the panic almost swallowed her.
The kitchen was completely alight, and the flames were close to the laundry room. Too close.
Desperately, she searched the ground around her for something—anything that could break the glass. A large rock lay at the edge of her yard.
She sprinted toward it. It was heavy. So heavy she needed two hands to lift the thing.
Good. The heavier the better.
When she reached the laundry again, she lifted the rock above her head and smashed it against the window. The glass shattered, a few small fragments flying back and cutting into her skin.
She ignored the little stabs of pain and used the rock to clear the shards of glass around the edges. Then she spread the towel on the bottom of the window and climbed inside. A few sharp edges still cut into her skin, but she was so focused on Charlie she barely felt the scrapes.
She hit the floor inside the laundry, pieces of glass cutting into her feet—only to stop. Where was he? There was no laundry room door, but surely he wouldn’t have run out into the fire?
The smoke was thick, burning her lungs more with each cough. She dropped to her knees, ignoring the sear of glass cutting into them.
There was a gap between her washer and dryer…and that was where she found Charlie. He’d burrowed right to the back.
Thank God!
“Charlie, come on, boy, I need you to come out.”
He whimpered, his little limbs trembling as he pushed himself farther back.
“Charlie, honey. I can get you out. Trust me.” She kept her voice soft and gentle, coaxing him.
He took a small step forward.
“Yes, that’s it, honey, keep coming.”
A little closer. His legs shook, but he continued to move forward until finally he was in her arms.
Tears stung her eyes as she cuddled him against her chest. He was okay. Now they had to get out.
She stood and was about to turn toward the window—only to stop at the sight of the figure in her kitchen. A large, dark figure.
Becket.
