Nash
I jolted awake in my leather chair, my arm numb from the way I’d been sleeping. Sound erupted around me in a cacophony of unfamiliar and alarming noises.
I smelled smoke.
Eyes flying open, crimson flames clawed at the sky outside my window. Their scorching heat seeped through the glass. The light cast a fiery ballet across the room. Disoriented, I sat up. I was breathing heavily already, still half-asleep.
With my heart pounding, I surveyed the room. Sirens wailed, echoing off the walls. I scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping. I was desperate to find the source of the noise and theflames.
My gut lurched.
They were coming from Sybil’s side of the street.
I shot to my feet, an empty glass and book tumbling to the floor from where they sat in my lap. My legs were lethargic, refusing to cooperate. I stumbled to the office door and down the stairs.
Leaning against the rail, I was moving faster than my mind could keep up. Hitting the landing, I wrestled my sneakers out from under the bench. Battling with the laces to put them on, I fumbled with the locks and flung the door open. The knob crashed into the drywall and stuck there.
Smoke and ash danced in the chilly night air.
My gaze skated across the towering flames that consumed Sybil’s upper floors. Smoke billowed from the lower ones as water from the firefighters pushed it down and out. Yells echoed, lost in the crackling of flames. I had to get over there.
Now.
Cold, wet pavement made my shoes slip as I sprinted toward Sybil’s stoop. I could hear wood whining with pressure from within, as though collapse was imminent.
A dog barked, sharp and wild—it was Bill—on the sidewalk with firefighters trying to hold him back. Water and ash matted his coat, and he focused on the house with panic in his eyes.
Where was Sybil?
Smoke mushroomed from the front door, followed by a wet and ash-caked firefighter, cradling a small familiar woman. He expertly navigated the steps, moving them both away from the fire as another boom shook the street. A floor must have collapsed, pushing debris and glass at us.
We all ducked, turning away from the scene until the wave of debris passed. Breath stuck in my throat. My nose and eyes stung from the smoke and heat.
Chancing a look back, I squinted through the dusty air. I worked my way forward through broken glass and wood. Misty water fell all around. Fire hoses snaked from the hydrants across the street and sidewalk, truck lights flashing. I wiped the water from my eyes, chest tightening as I reached the firefighter holding Sybil.
“Sybil,”I gasped. Her eyes were closed. Feline hissing noises were coming from a lump under her soot-caked sweatshirt.As much as I wanted to see her in person, this was not a welcome reason.
“Sir, step back.” The firefighter warned. The hissing transitioned to a desperate yowl, but still Sybil’s eyes remained shut.
“Is she okay?” I yelled at him, trying to elevate my voice over the sirens.
He nodded his head, but seemed uncertain. “She was alert when I got to her, but she was coughing, very short of breath—I’m sure smoke inhalation and panic.”
He was marching her toward a ready EMT. He placed her down on a gurney, and the EMT dove in. I tried to reach her, but the firefighter’s arm barred me from getting too close.
The EMT put a mask over Sybil’s mouth and nose after checking her eyes and throat. Placing a hand over the yowling mound under her sweatshirt, the EMT squeezed it a few times, eliciting further hissing.
“Is this acat?”she asked the firefighter.
Henodded. “I believe so.”
She gave one nod in confirmation but didn’t move to remove Mr. Beans.
Her gaze met mine. “She’s alive.” The EMT confirmed, seeing my panic.
The news did little to quell the feeling of terror. We’d just been messaging each other a few hours ago, what had happened?
Bill’s barking was growing nearer. I turned, seeing the firefighters had him corralled and in a harness with a leash, walking him in our direction. They’d muzzled him as well, which angered me. In three large strides, I was before him.
