Page 177 of We Drank the Dawn

Yah! Yah!

More hooves pounded through the barn.

Having a bit of first aid training, Sarah leaned down, hovering her face over Cooper’s for a few long beats. She exhaled a sigh of relief. “He’s breathing.”

“Come on,” I hissed. “Wake up, buddy.”

“Recovery position,” Sarah said. “Just in case.”

Familiar with the position since it was protocol after a seizure, I helped Sarah roll Cooper to his side, propping his knee against the ground and his arm under his head. Gently lifting his head onto his bicep, I touched his hair for the first time. Instead of finding a short cut like most men I knew, my fingers touched long strands, knotted at the base of his neck.

Did he have long hair when I met him at Bea’s wedding?

I couldn’t remember.

I recognized the smell of hose water as Hollie called out, “Harlan, they’re too far. It’ll take fifteen minutes—at least.”

Harlan panted at the air as water jetted into the gravel. “It’ll be gone by then.”

Gone?

Sarah rubbed between Cooper’s shoulder blades, softly encouraging, “Just keep breathing. You’re doing great.”

As if Cooper had heard her, his entire body rattled with a deep, wheezing breath. A coughing fit bent him at the waist, his head rolling onto the gravel, sucking in oxygen.

“He’s waking up,” Sarah said.

Then Cooper moaned, the sound interrupted by more violent gasps. “Ah—ow—what—what happened?”

At the sound of his voice, my head fell forward with relief.

He tried to sit up. “Ah—my head—agh.”

I pushed him back. “Stay down.”

“What—happened?”

“The barn’s on fire.”

“What?” Coughing again, he twisted on the gravel in order to look behind him. “The barn!”

“Yeah, you fell asleep up there.” I shook my head. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“The barn…” His voice was hollow.

As I stood up to find a way to pitch in somehow, I painfully realized the former commotion had screeched to a halt. No one was running, yelling, screaming, spraying water. The only sound filtering out of the dark was the hungry pop of violent flames.

“Where’s Harlan?” I asked, breathless.

“Right here.” He stood about ten feet to my left.

“What do we do?”

“Nothin’—there’s nothin’ we can do.” A fwooosh sound over our head proved that the loft was in flames. The crackles came from deep in the corridor now, the fire was spreading inward—front to back. A groan, like a log snapping in two, pierced the night, followed by a loud tumble.

Sarah sniffled beside me. “The roof—it’s caving.”

“What about the fire department?” I asked.