Chapter 1
MILES
“Hammond, do you copy?” The radio on my chest squawks. Smoke curls its way across the old linoleum flooring, past lockers and cork boards where signup sheets and school announcements are singed out of shape by the embers in the air.
I ignore the radio, making a beeline for the doors on the first floor of the two-story elementary school building. The old place was a code waiting to happen. But the city is more worried about budget cuts than the safety of our kids.
So I press on, visibility declining by the minute.
The rebreather mask occludes my peripheral vision. The gloves are bulky as I test every door handle down the wide corridor before opening it and scanning the rooms for kids, staff. Anyone too afraid to leave the confines of their classroom.
Leaving each door open as I go to emancipate the heat, sweat trickles down my back. I’m almost to the last door when a whimper breaks through the hum of the fire overhead. Who said open flame and eleven-year-olds was a safe bet?
Their little science experiment has escalated into a full-blown catastrophe, and the floor above will be a write-off.
Probably the entire building.
“Hammond, respond.”
I test the last door as I snatch the radio and snap back, “Give me five, Cap. Got something in the last classroom.”
“All staff and students have been accounted for. Outnow, Hammond.”
A large patch of ceiling behind me gives way, crashing to the floor in a flurry of embers as flames lick down the opening, chasing the oxygen.
Dammit.
Handle warm, not hot. I brace before flinging the door open. Smoke shrouds the corner classroom in its grey blanket. I wait for it to settle as it sinks a little, rolling past me with the opening of the door.
The whimper turns to a cry.
It’s a dog.
What the hell is a dog doing in the middle of an elementary school?
With a glance at the ceiling, I round the room’s perimeter until I come to the teacher’s desk. Beside it sits a small dog crate.
Oh buddy, let’s get you out of here.
I wrap a hand around the top handle, but the carrier only lifts a small way before hitting the end of a chain.
“The hell?”
The carrier is chained to the two-hundred-pound desk. It’s when I bend down to peer inside, I find the padlock on the pup’s cage.
“Someone doesn’t want you going anywhere.”
Like hell I’m leaving him here.
I have the handle of my axe gripped tight a beat later, swinging the sharp edge into the arm of the lock. Three smashes, and the lock breaks in two. Sliding the axe back to its place, I kneel down, reaching out for the pup.
The poor thing is terrified, trembling so badly it’s almost curled into a ball.
Its long caramel fur is matted with something wet. Possibly urine.
My guess is his bladder let go after smelling the smoke.
“Come on, bud. We ain’t staying here.”
