Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
Canon bolted upright in bed. His heart hammered and chest heaved. It was pitch black. Rain pelted the windows and thunder rumbled in the distance.
Then he remembered. “AImee stop.”
The smoke detector screeched. He coughed and his throat burned. Sirens wailed, drawing nearer by the second.
“Oh, shit.” He scrambled out of bed, tripping on the blanket. He found his footing and said, “AImee, turn on the light.”
The light illuminated a wisp of smoke swirling near the ceiling.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”
Threading his legs through a pair of basketball shorts, Canon grabbed his wallet and keys. He threw them into a basket of clean clothes. With the basket on his hip, he felt the front door. It wasn’t hot, so he opened it.
All in pajamas, a family from the third floor rushed past in a panic. A little girl clung to a stuffed animal. “Stay together. Hold Mark’s hand. Remember what we said if we get separated? Who’s got the cat?”
Canon swallowed and let the people pass. The door across the way remained closed. He hoped Ms. Bach had already fled.
Smoke hung in the air and he covered his nose with his arm. The glass globe overhead flickered, then winked off. Canon blinked, and with his empty hand, grabbed the railing.
An orange glow reflected off windshields. Like a dummy, he had forgotten shoes. He stepped gingerly down the cool slabbed stairs until he reached the grass. He turned toward the building.
Canon gasped. The party apartment was on fire. Flames escaped the windows on the second and licked the third floor. Heat dried his eyes as he stared, mesmerized. A woman nudged his arm as she cradled her child.
Snapped out of his daze, Canon took off in a brisk walk toward his truck. He opened the door and set his basket on the seat. Rummaging through his clothes, he found a fire department T-shirt and slipped it on. On the floor in the back were his dirty boots from the book club camp out. He stepped into them and hurried toward station twenty-five’s trucks.
Canon’s station mates sprayed the building. He approached the chief. “Hey, can I help?” Canon asked.
The chief wiped his face with a gloved hand, inspecting him head to boots. “Not in those duds. Where’d you come from?”
“I live there,” He pointed to the next landing.
“Get the people to move to the other side of the lot. Preferably on the grass near the road. Nockerville is sending an engine over.” He nodded, then hurried to the radio.
Canon started with a couple nearest to the building. Tears glistened on the woman’s cheeks. “Hi, I work for the Fortuna fire department. The chief asked me to move everyone to the other area on the far side of the parking lot.”
He continued to work closer toward his building. All his neighbors were present except the frumpy Bach girl. Canon spun, checking for her Honda. It was in the parking lot. His breath accelerated as he ran from crowd to crowd calling, “Ms. Bach.”
Canon’s gut clenched. He couldn’t find the Bach babe, and she had to be home. He ran toward the building, skirting across the parking lot, dodging vehicles and men.
The second engine arrived, wailing.
The flames sparked the roof of the building next to his frumpy neighbor’s apartment. A fire wall separated them, but heat anything hot enough, and it will burn.
Canon swallowed and ran for her door. He knocked. The power was out, so ringing the bell wouldn’t work. He pounded with his fist. “Come on, wake up!”
He kicked next. He only listened for a moment before trying to ram it with his shoulder. It gave a little, but the chain latch caught. He tried again, and the mechanism jerked out of the doorjamb. Filled with smoke, the living space was uncomfortably warm. He raised his shirt over his nose and moved fast. The girl wasn’t on the sofa, so he continued to the bedroom. Her floor plan mirrored his.
The bedroom door was closed. It was warm to the touch, but not super heated. Twisting the knob, a great bellow of smoke wafted out. In the smoky blackness, Canon couldn’t see. Coughing, he felt for the bed. In the center, he felt a body. She coughed, then groaned. He scooped her up as fire sprang to life in the far corner of the ceiling.
“Oh, hell.”
With Ms. Bach over his shoulder, he hurried to the door. He tripped over something and landed on his knees.
Her purse! He took the handle and continued to the door. His eyes watered, and he struggled to put one foot in front of the other.
Once down the steps, he continued to an ambulance. “She needs help. I found her in a smoke-filled room.”
Canon lowered her to the gurney. When the EMT rolled her onto her back, Canon gasped. The long, dark-haired beauty with the ash smeared face was unfamiliar to him. She wore a turquoise spaghetti strap tank top that clung to her curves and short pjs that showed off toned legs.
God, had he rescued a different girl? Was frumpy still in there?
The girl coughed and opened her round eyes. Her gaze traveled around, first hitting the man who worked on her, taking her blood pressure. Then to the other who was talking to her, telling her she’s all right. Her gaze settled last on Canon and widened.
“What’s going on?” she asked in a scratchy voice. She coughed again.
“The apartment building is on fire.” Canon glanced back at her apartment. Flames danced in the bedroom window. If he hadn’t sought her out, she would have died. He rubbed his face, breathing hard.
She coughed.
“Hey Byrns, what’s your girlfriend’s name?”
She sucked in a breath and shook her head. “Albie Bach,” she wheezed.
“Canon, you did real good rescuing this little lady,” the EMT said as he removed the blood pressure cuff.
“I only did what’s right, Jonas,” Canon said, glancing down at his boots.
“Let’s get her loaded and go,” Jonas said, strapping her to the gurney.
“Wait.” Albie’s hand shot out and clasped Canon’s. “My cat.”
Canon frowned and stepped toward the building. Jonas stepped in his way. “No way, man, you can’t go back. It’s suicide.”
Flames engulfed her fabric headboard and the walls. If the cat was in there, he was toast. Literally. Tears pricked his eyes. He turned back to Albie and shook his head.
“No.” She sat up and twisted toward the building. Glimpsing the fire for the first time, she shrieked. “Oh, my God. My apartment. My stuff.”
Her hands covered her face, and she gave in to tears. Canon put a hand on her shoulder and watched through Albie’s sliding glass doors as the flames spread into the living room.
Canon squeezed her shoulder, and her head tipped in his direction. “I didn’t close the door. Maybe your kitty escaped.”
She nodded, then buried her face in his shirt. He patted her back and started to cough.
Jonas insisted Canon come to the hospital. He nodded and followed in his truck. If the Fortuna fire fighters didn’t get the blaze under control soon, then he’d lose everything, like Albie.
On the drive to Nockerville Memorial Hospital, Canon made a call. “Hi Grammie,” he started.
“Oh, honey, I heard about your apartment complex. I’ve been praying you’d be safe and call me.” Just the sound of her warm, loving voice brought the emotion to the surface. He blinked it away.
“How did you…?”
“The news. It looks bad. Is it near your place?”
“It started in a building down from mine, but as I left, it was consuming my neighbor’s apartment. It might have taken her cat.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.”
“I grabbed a basket of clothes, my wallet and keys, but my neighbor isn’t as fortunate.” Canon turned the wheel, exiting the highway.
“Why is that?” she asked.
“She was asleep, and I had to break in and rescue her. She has only the clothes she was wearing.”
“Poor thing. No home. No personal items and no pet.”
“She’ll need a place to stay.” He rubbed his face. “I might need a place to stay, too.”