11. Maggie #2
The training we practice twice a year finally proves its worth.
Volunteers scatter. Sarah grabs the emergency binder from the office while Emily races toward the cat room.
Two college volunteers begin loading carriers onto rolling carts.
Another begins opening the emergency supply cabinet near the entrance.
Alexei's security man appears at a dead run.
“Fire department's been called,” Sam says. “Additional security is on the way.”
“Help get animals out,” I tell him. “Every kennel. Nobody gets left behind.”
Sam gives a single nod before heading toward the main dog wing.
The smoke grows thicker with every passing minute.
Gray haze clings to the ceiling and creeps steadily downward while the temperature inside the hallway begins to climb.
Somewhere deeper inside the building, a loud crack echoes through the walls, followed by the unmistakable roar of fire finding fresh fuel.
Fear rises fast, threatening to swallow me whole. But there isn't time for fear when animals are still trapped inside, counting on us.
Jules thrusts an armful of leashes into my hands. “You take the east kennels. I'll handle recovery.”
“No, I'm coming with you.”
“Maggie.”
“I'm not arguing with you right now,” I snap.
He opens his mouth.
I glare.
He closes it again.
“Fine,” he mutters. “But if we die because you're stubborn, I'm hauntin’ you.”
“We can discuss your afterlife plans later.”
We push through the swinging doors together. The recovery wing houses animals healing from surgeries, illnesses, and injuries. Many can’t move quickly on their own. Smoke hangs thicker here, stinging my eyes and scraping against my throat with every breath.
Dogs bark frantically inside their kennels.
“It's okay,” I call, coughing. “We’re here.”
I unlock the first kennel and slip a leash onto a trembling hound mix while Jules lifts a recovering terrier, blanket and all, into his arms.
Everything narrows to a single purpose. Open kennel. Attach leash. Get the animal to safety. Go back inside. Do it again.
Volunteers meet us at the doors and rush animals toward the parking lot, where makeshift holding areas begin taking shape beneath the shade trees. Sweat runs down my back. Smoke burns my lungs. Still, we keep moving.
Orange light suddenly dances beneath the doorway leading toward the laundry room.
I freeze. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”
“Maggie!” Sarah runs toward us, carrying two cat carriers. Tears streak soot across her cheeks. “The front office is clear. Emily says all the cats are out except quarantine.”
“Get outside,” I tell her. “Please.”
“What about you?” she manages between coughs.
“We're comin’.”
She doesn't believe me. I can see it plainly on her face. Still, she nods and hurries away.
Another crack reverberates overhead, and dust rains down from the ceiling. Jules catches my arm.
“We need to move,” he says, tightening his grip as another shower of debris falls around us.
I look down the row of kennels. Three remain occupied.
“No.” I yank my arm free and reach for the nearest kennel latch.
“Maggie.” Jules steps in front of me, smoke swirling around us. “The roof could come down.”
“No.” I shake my head, already moving toward the next kennel. “Not while they're still in here.”
Kennel seventeen holds Rosie, an elderly golden retriever abandoned after her owner died. Kennel eighteen houses a shepherd with a broken leg. And kennel nineteen contains Louie, a terrified pit bull mix who bites everybody except me.
I refuse to leave them.
Jules sees the decision on my face and closes his eyes. “Lord, give me strength.”
Together, we work faster.
Rosie leans heavily against my legs as we hurry toward the exit. A volunteer takes her and races outside. We return for the shepherd, and Jules carries him despite the dog's awkward cast and seventy pounds of nervous energy.
Smoke now blankets the upper half of the hallway. Every breath burns.
Sam appears at the end of the corridor. “Maggie!” he shouts. “You need to get out now!”
“One more!”
He curses in Russian.
I unlock Louie’s kennel. The big dog trembles violently.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I kneel beside him despite the smoke. “I know you're scared. Me too.”
He presses himself against my chest, shaking so hard his whole body quivers.
I wrap both arms around him. “Come on, sugar. Let's go.”
Together, we run. The moment we emerge into fresh air, cheers erupt from the parking lot. As I hand Louie over to Emily, relief begins to loosen the knot in my chest.
“Everybody accounted for?” I ask, fighting for breath.
Emily nods frantically, her face streaked with tears and soot. “I think so.”
Think.
The single word catches my attention immediately. “You think?”
Emily's expression crumples. “The recovery room,” she whispers. “I thought you got the animals from recovery room three.”
Jules appears beside me, his face blackened with soot and sweat. Hearing those words stops him cold.
Recovery room three. The isolation room. Five animals are still trapped inside, including Peanut, the tiny Chihuahua recovering from surgery.
A sick feeling rolls through me. “Oh no.”
Jules spins toward the shelter. “I'm getting them,” he says, already running for the entrance.
“I'm coming.” I race after him.
“No, you're not,” Jules throws over his shoulder without slowing.
I ignore him and keep running.
“Maggie!” Jules snaps, glancing back at me as we reach the doors.
“I'm not standing out here while they're trapped,” I shout back.
Jules disappears inside before I can say anything else.
I make it three more steps before Sam intercepts me. His broad frame blocks the doorway completely.
“No.”
I try to move around him.
He moves with me.
“Maggie, absolutely not.”
“There are animals still inside!” I shout.
“The fire department is almost here.”
Almost. But not yet.
I look past him toward the shelter. Thick smoke now pours from the roof, darkening the afternoon sky. Somewhere inside that building are five frightened animals who have already been abandoned once in their lives. The thought of leaving them there twists through me like a knife.
“I have to go,” I plead.
Sam exhales sharply and mutters a curse beneath his breath.
People who know me understand one thing very quickly. Once I've made up my mind, arguing becomes a waste of oxygen.
“Two minutes,” he says grimly. “I'm coming with you.”
Heat slams into us the moment we step inside. The hallway that had been merely smoky minutes earlier now resembles a nightmare. Gray haze fills the corridor, reducing visibility to only a few feet. The fire alarm shrieks overhead while somewhere nearby, glass shatters with an explosive crack.
Sam pulls his shirt over his mouth. “Stay close,” he orders.
We move quickly. The door to recovery room three stands partially open, and relief hits me so hard my knees nearly buckle. I drop beside the first kennel and begin working frantically.
“It's okay, babies,” I murmur through coughing fits. “We're getting’ you out.”
The animals shriek with fear.
My hands shake so badly that I fumble the first latch. One by one, I load trembling dogs and cats into emergency carriers stacked beside the wall.
“Maggie.” Sam's voice grows more urgent with every passing second. “We have to move.”
“I'm tryin’”.
The final latch jams. I tug on it again, panic rising when nothing happens.
“Come on,” I plead, tears stinging my eyes. “Please.”
The latch finally gives way. I scoop up the final carrier as a deafening crash reverberates through the building, hard enough to make the floor shake beneath us.
Sam swears loudly. “We're leaving. Now!”
We run.
Halfway down the hallway, another crash echoes through the shelter. A shout follows this one.
“Maggie!”
It’s Jules.
I freeze.
“That was Jules.” Panic sharpens my voice.
“Maggie.” Sam thrusts two carriers into my hands and points toward the entrance. “Outside. Now.”
“Sam—”
“Now!”
I look toward the smoke-filled hallway, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.
Then I nod. “Fine.”
Sam stays close as we make our way toward the entrance, smoke stinging my eyes and burning my lungs. The second we stumble outside, volunteers rush forward to take the carriers.
Before he can look back, I slip into the crowd of volunteers and circle the side of the building, sprinting back through the side entrance. There’s no way in hell I'm leaving Jules in there alone.
“Maggie!” Jules shouts again.
“Where are you?” I shout back between coughs.
“Supply room!” comes the answer, followed by violent coughing.
Terror explodes through me, and I race toward the sound. The storage hallway is partially blocked by fallen shelving and debris. Through the thick smoke, I finally spot him.
Jules lies pinned beneath a toppled metal storage rack.
My heart nearly stops. “Oh my God.”
“Maggie.” He coughs harshly before attempting a weak smile. “Please tell me you're not a hallucination.”
I drop beside him, my knees slamming into the floor. “What happened?”
“The shelf collapsed.” He winces and glances down toward his legs. “My ankle's trapped.”
Blood runs down one side of his forehead, disappearing into the soot coating his face. Fear grips me so hard it steals my breath.
“You hit your head.”
“I noticed,” he says dryly before another coughing fit wracks his body.
I grab the metal shelving unit with both hands and shove. Nothing happens. The rack doesn't move more than an inch.
“I’m getting you out.”
“Maggie, no.” Fear flashes across his face. “You need to leave. Right now.”
I ignore him completely. Smoke churns around us, thick enough to make my eyes stream. Coughing, I brace my feet against the floor and push again, every muscle straining.
Nothing.
“Damn it.” I look around frantically. Boxes, cleaning supplies, shattered shelving. My eyes land on a length of metal pipe lying nearby. I snatch it up and wedge it beneath one corner of the rack.
Jules catches on immediately.
“Leverage,” he rasps.
“Exactly.”
I throw my weight onto the pipe while Jules grabs the edge of the shelving and pushes with both hands. The metal groans.