His chest felt so tight that it was hard to take a breath.“There isn’t time for this.I’ll meet you there.”
Miles grabbed a ladder and a box of supplies, sprinting to his truck, every fiber in his body on fire, working in unison.
His pickup truck ripped out of the parking lot, Miles at the helm.His hands gripped the steering wheel, his breath heaving in his chest.The only sound was the wind gasping into the open windows.
He got on the radio.They’d put out a call for Sam to bring the other fire truck.Good.He’d still beat them there.
Three minutes away.He was making good time, but it was still taking too long.If only his truck had a siren…
He activated his phone with his voice and called Annie – no answer.
He called her mom.She picked up promptly.
“Hello?”
“Clara, it’s Miles.”He kept his voice steady, refusing to allow any panic in.“Is Annie at the lab today?”
“Yes, she is.Why?”
He swallowed.He’d known.The moment that fire bell went off, he’d felt it somewhere deep inside of him, in some chamber of his heart that was forever connected to hers.
It was best to keep Clara calm.“Sorry, I’m in a hurry,” he said.“I need to drop something off for her.”
“Okay, tell her I love her!”
His chest tightened, a crack forming in his stoic resolve.“I will.”
He saw the smoke before he got there – a black column rising to the sky.The building loomed against the absurd backdrop of the sparkling sea, three stories of wood and brick, a sheet of orange flame licking the roof.
His stomach lurched.
Annie’s car was alone in the parking lot.
“Dispatch, be advised this is a three-story commercial structure, heavy fire involvement, ground to roof.Call a third alarm.”
Not waiting for a response, he skidded his truck to a halt and leapt out.He pulled up his hood, pressed his mask against his face, tightened the straps and inhaled sharply before opening the gas canister.
Air flowed.He activated the PASS device on his helmet and it chirped at him.Good to go.
He was not waiting on anyone else to show up.If he stopped moving, they’d hear the device screaming for help.
He kicked the door open and disappeared inside.
Twenty-seven
Annie should have jumped out of the window when she had the chance.Now, it was too late.She was stuck.
Trapped.
Her voice was hoarse from screaming for help – or maybe it was the smoke.She wasn’t sure.She’d stayed at the window yelling as long as she could, but the fire moved so quickly and the smoke was so overpowering.She had no choice but to flee into a small office at the back corner of the building where she could shut the door.
A small, windowless room.She sat on the floor, trying to catch the last breaths of smokeless air.Did anyone even know the building was on fire?The person in the parking lot might have, though as soon as they had seen her looking out the window, they had scurried off.
There was nothing else nearby, just some houses on the other side of the wall of trees.Would anyone notice the smoke?There had to be at least one busybody at home, someone curious enough to find out what was going on.
If only she hadn’t committed so fully to detaching from her phone.Months ago, she’d realized she had the bad habit of staring at it too much.It was a way to soothe her anxiety around the divorce, mindlessly scrolling through pictures and videos.The bad habit had bled into her work life and into her home life, so she had put a stop to it.
Annie hadn’t even thought twice about leaving her phone behind, sitting at her desk.And now she had no way to call for help.
