Burning Obsession (Firehouse 99 #12)

Prologue

Iwake to a shrill, relentlessly repetitive beeping that cuts through my sleep like a knife. For one blissfully stupid moment, I think it’s my phone alarm, so I reach my hand out toward the nightstand to turn it off.

I fumble around for my phone, my eyes closed, the effects of sleep still lingering as I tap the screen from muscle memory.

I nuzzle my face deeper into my pillow, my body not yet ready to get up and start the day.

Five more minutes…

That's all I need, just a few more minutes of extra sleep. I’ve got a busy day today, and I need to be fully alert.

Then another blaring alarm sounds.

What the fuck!? Why am I still so tired? I just hit the snooze button. At least that’s what it feels like.

My eyes slowly open, and there’s nothing but darkness. No warm sunlight shining through the window to brighten my way.

Did I set my alarm for the wrong time? Am I going insane?

But the blaring keeps going. There’s no stopping it no matter what I do. And for a minute I know I must be going crazy, because it’s not my phone.

What the hell is going on?

I throw the comforter off of me and swing my legs over the side of the bed as I sit up. The sudden movement makes my head spin, and I have to sit there for a moment to soothe the dizziness.

My eyes scan the room, the very hazy room. Blinking, I try to focus, but my head and chest feel heavy.

It’s so smoky that my lungs and nose burn.

Smoke... Why is there so much smoke?

The realization slams into me and I’m instantly awake.

Alarm.

Smoke.

There’s a fucking fire, and I’m just sitting here like something’s burning in my oven. Like my life isn’t in danger.

Bar-B-Que anyone?

"What the—" I don’t even get to finish speaking before spiraling into a coughing fit so violent that it has me doubling over. My lungs seize, refusing to cooperate. Every breath feels like I’m inhaling razor blades.

I need to get out of here. Fast. My body moves on autopilot as I stand up, but I don’t realize my comforter has fallen to the floor, so I don’t register how my foot catches in it, only that the entanglement causes me to trip.

I take a few steps, trying to catch my balance, but there’s nothing for me to grasp.

News flash. I lose my balance even more, pitching forward and my shoulder slams right into the nightstand before my knees buckle and I hit the floor with a heavy thud.

Better my shoulder than my face, I guess.

"Fuck," I growl before coughing up a storm once more. I can’t catch my breath, and it’s like the world is conspiring against me as I try my hardest to get out of this burning death trap.

I take a deep breath; well, as deep as I can manage without hacking up a lung, which isn’t as easy as it sounds.

Come on. Think!

What am I supposed to do in a fire? It’s not like we didn’t have those damn drills in elementary school all the time, but that was ages ago, and I’m an adult. And this isn’t fucking school!

Still, I run through everything I can remember from what’s been ingrained in me. Stay low. Wet a towel and place it at the base of the door. Cover your mouth with a wet towel. Do I open windows? Or does that feed the fire?

Fuck!

How stupid am I? There’s a fire. Who handles fires?

The fucking fire department!

Call 911.

No.

Get out.

Yes, that’s what I should do. I’m sure someone’s already called 911. The alarms are going off so I need to get the fuck out of this building.

But I can’t do that if I’m sitting on the floor, ready to meet defeat.

The smoke hovers thick near the ceiling, rolling in lazy waves that somehow make everything feel even more terrifying and ominous. The apartment I know by heart suddenly feels unfamiliar as I make my way out of my room, toward the door.

I keep one hand on the wall, steadying myself, the smoke getting thicker with each step. Somewhere, something pops. Glass, maybe wood. All I know is that it doesn’t mean something good is happening. It’s an omen of death.

When I reach the door, my hands move frantically over the table, looking for my keys and wallet. Do I even need them? If this building burns to the ground, I’m going to need somewhere to stay, and that means money, credit card, and identification.

My heart’s pounding in my chest, and the more time I spend looking for them and not finding them, the angrier I get. Finally, common sense takes over, and I open the door and step out into the hallway.

A wave of heat hits me immediately. The hallway is full of smoke. More smoke than in my apartment. Thicker, still visible enough to see through but barely. The taste of smoke is bitter against my tongue. I can hear doors slamming and the cracking, popping sounds of the building.

My attention is drawn to the panicked voice of my neighbor as she pleads with one of her daughters to forget about their pet cat.

Melissa. That’s her name. And her daughters are Lynn and Kim.

Her hair’s wild like she’s been pulling on the ends. Kim, the youngest, is clutched in her arm, her legs swaying frantically as Melissa attempts to pull Lynn out the door.

"I can't Mommy, I need Cooper. He’s scared,” Lynn sobs.

I’m frozen watching the interaction take place in front of me as smoke continues to fill the hallway, making it more difficult to see or breathe.

There’s no way in hell I’m running out of this building and leaving the three of them here. I want to scream at her, I’m sorry, Lynn, but you need to get out and your momma isn’t leaving without you. Cooper will make his way out.

Without thinking, I'm already moving.

"I've got her. Just leave the door open so the cat can run out,” I shout, scooping Lynn up in my arms as she kicks and screams trying to break free.

“Thank you." The relief in her eyes is evident.

Lynn’s tiny arms wrap around my neck as she cries for me to get her cat.

"It's okay," I rasp. “He’ll get out. Cats are smart. I bet he’s already outside and waiting for you to join him.”

It’s a lie. Maybe. Probably. But it’s what she needs to hear right now. Her screams soften to a whimper as her eyes scan the hallway.

“It’s smoky,” her soft voice catches as she starts to cough. The relief of not worrying about her pet finally gives her the opportunity to take in what’s happening.

"I know, sweetheart. We're getting out. Just a little bit more to go and we’ll be safely outside." I try to comfort her, but I need to hear the words too. Believing them is half the battle.

We make our way to the stairwell and find pure chaos. People are rushing, pushing each other out of the way in a manic attempt to escape the blaze.

“Get out of the fucking way,” a deep masculine voice shouts just as Melissa’s pushed to the side as he dashes past her. She stumbles into the railing, nearly dropping Kim.

“Are you okay?” She nods, and I take hold of her arm, placing her directly in front of me.

The inconsiderate asshole continues barreling through people, and for a second I envision him falling and being trampled. Fitting ending, if you ask me. Who knew a disaster would bring out the darkness in me.

Lynn buries her face in my neck as her arms wrap around me tighter. Melissa’s coughing so hard she nearly drops Kim again. I should just take her from her.

"We’re almost out. One more floor to go,” I tell her, encouraging her to keep moving. “Just keep taking one step at a time and hold on to your baby. We’re going to make it.”

My lungs are on fire by the time we shove our way through the lobby doors into the cool night air. But we made it. Once we’re safely away from the building, I set Lynn down on the ground.

I bend over, hands on my knees, coughing until I think I'm going to throw up. Once I’m able to breathe without hacking up a lung, I take a deep breath. The fresh oxygen hits my lungs, clearing out the smoke I’ve been inhaling for God knows how long.

Fire trucks scream as they pull into the parking lot.

Red lights paint the front of the apartment building, adding a contrast to the blazing red flames.

People stand barefoot in the grass, all woken from their slumber in a frenzy like I was, I assume because some are wrapped in blankets while others are barely dressed.

All are crying, staring at the building in front of them, their home, burning before their eyes.

Tears are shed for them being alive, for the precious items within the flames that are going to be lost.

Melissa sinks to the ground with both daughters wrapped around her. She reaches out with a shaky hand and takes hold of my wrist. “Thank you.”

I just nod, not having any other response for her.

Lynn pulls away from her mother, turning in circles, frantically scanning the area as she screams for her cat. “Cooper. Cooper.”

But the cat doesn’t come, and she screams louder.

"My kitty,” she sobs, and my fucking heart breaks.

Lynn moves quickly, and starts to sprint toward the building, but Melissa’s arm shoots out, grasping her small arm and stops her. "No, sweetheart, you can’t go back in there. It’s dangerous!"

"But Cooper hasn’t come out, Mommy,” she whispers. Her lips are trembling as she points a shaky finger toward the building. The little pistol stomps her foot and crosses her arms over her chest as she pouts in frustration.

Then she starts crying. Not the scared crying from before, but the pain-filled cry of someone who’s lost someone they care about.

The sound punches straight through my chest. And I look toward the building, a plan forming in my head. A fucking stupid plan. But one none the less.

I take it all in as smoke pours out from broken windows, from slivers and cracks.

Flames dance like ribbons along the upper floor.

Firefighters are heading in groups into the building, while others on the ground are manning the hoses.

I look back at Lynn, this broken girl, her eyes red from crying, and I know I have to do it.

My feet are moving toward the building before I even finish the thought.

"What are you doing?" Melissa calls out to me, but I don’t answer.