Page 44 of Full Throttle

“She’s unconscious!” I yelled back. I didn’t stop running, slamming my shoulder into her door. It took me three attempts before the wood splintered and I fell inside Cherry’s small apartment. It was dark, filled with smoke.

I shouted her name, grabbing a bundle of material on the floor and covering my face. I realized it was a sweater she often wore and left by the door.

I couldn’t see anything as I stood, trying to find my way through the smoke, shocked at how easy it was to get lost in the swirling fog and heat. I headed toward the bedroom, tripping over something. I fell, hitting my head, cursing. I felt the warm blood dripping down my face, but it didn’t matter. Finding her mattered.

I crawled, finding my way to the bedroom, shocked to discover that she wasn’t in the bed. At first, I was relieved. Maybe she had gotten out. Maybe she never made it upstairs. Then I recalled the sound of the chain breaking as the door gave way. The chain wouldn’t have been on if she was out. Frantically, I began to search, ignoring the blood on my face, and the choking sound I was making from the smoke. I crawled toward the front door, my hand finding a foot to one side. Cherry was in a heap on the floor, the table beside her knocked over. Squinting, I could see that she had a gash on her head and her arm was bent at a strange angle. With a huge effort, I pulled her into my arms and stood. The smoke was pouring out the door, and I headed in the direction of the air movement, gasping for oxygen as I broke through the entranceway onto the landing outside. I carried her downstairs, fighting to breathe, desperate to help her. I laid her on the cold, damp ground, immediately beginning CPR. Her chest was barely moving as I fell into a rhythm, pumping her chest and breathing into her mouth, happy to give her what little oxygen I could.

Paramedics and firefighters rushed toward us, and one reached for her. “Let me take her, sir.”

I looked down at her face. Bloodied, bruised, and marked with soot. Her chest was still barely moving.

“She’s inhaled a lot of smoke,” I said, shocked at the sound of my own voice. Gritty. Raspy. “Please help her.”

“So have you. You both need to be looked at.”

Moments later, she was on a gurney, oxygen being pumped into her as they worked on her. I sat on the tailgate breathing in the mask they insisted I put on, while another paramedic checked out my cut. “Stop fidgeting,” she said. “I need to clean this gash and stop the bleeding. I’m Sheila, by the way. And you are?”

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “Look after her.” Then I huffed. “And I’m Dom. That is Cherry.”

“Cherry is in good hands. Tom is looking after her. You need to be looked after too,” Sheila informed me. “You were very brave to go in after her. And foolish.”

I shook my head, unable to take my eyes off Cherry. “She’s mine. I had to.”

Sheila put her hand on my arm. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“Is she going to be okay?” I asked, coughing.

Sheila handed me a bottle of water, which I gratefully drank. She looked at Tom, who nodded.

“She’s inhaled a lot of smoke, and we think she has a concussion. Her arm is broken. But all recoverable.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I can’t say the same for the building.”

I followed her gaze. Cherry’s home and place of business were gone. She was hurt.

I shut my eyes, realizing if I hadn’t decided to drive in, it could be much worse.

“I need to call her daughter.”

I saw movement from the gurney, and Cherry struggled to sit up, clearly panicked and confused. I stood, dropping the mask and climbing into the rig, ignoring Tom’s and Sheila’s protests.

I bent over Cherry, cupping her face. She was coughing and looking around wildly.

“Cherry, baby, it’s me. I’ve got you.”

“Dom,” she gasped, her voice barely audible. She wrapped her hands around my wrists.

“I got you,” I repeated. “You’re safe.”

“I woke up… There was smoke. I couldn’t find my way.”

“I found you.”

“Why?” she asked.

I didn’t know if she was asking why I came. Why I risked my life. Why I had to find her.

I had the same reply to all the questions.

I bent and gently pressed my lips to her head.