around the bed. No Gramps and no wheelchair.
That left the living room. Oh dear God. That room was all but totally consumed by fire. She returned to the hallway and belly-crawled forward. Everything was hot. There was no oxygen in the air! Her lungs were on fire and she couldn’t stop coughing. The heat intensified with every inch. She was crawling into an inferno.
Her head struck something hard—the bureau outside the living room. She was almost there. She pulled herself up and turned toward the living room, but she could see nothing. The heat was cooking her. She tried to call out to him, “Gramps!” But ended up choking instead. An overhead beam pulled away, dangling precariously, sending sparks flying around her. Smoke, heat, and fire were everywhere, but no Gramps.
She could no longer feel anything. Her body went numb. The searing heat disappeared; she felt cold. Then her feet left the floor.
CHAPTER 18
Dallas climbed the worn staircase to his apartment over the dreaded dentist’s office. Juggling grocery bags and dry cleaning, he unlocked the door, stepped inside, hit the lights, and looked around. He needed a cleaning service.
Putting food away was no problem. It either went into the near-empty pantry or the near-empty refrigerator. That job finished, he popped the top off a Lone Star beer, took a long swig, and walking over to the scanner, flipped it on. A second later, he caught Hadden’s address and the word fire. He dropped the beer in the sink, grabbed his coat and hat, and ran back out the door.
The patrolman was looking the wrong way when Dallas arrived at First Street, so he whipped around him and broke through the tape, maneuvering his pickup down the crowded street. He came to a fast stop behind the fire truck. Ahead, the road was clogged with emergency vehicles, onlookers, firemen, police, an ambulance, and hoses snaking through the street. He barely recognized Hadden’s house. “Hellndamnation!”
The core of the blaze centered on the front right corner of the bungalow, where flames reached over the rooftop, throwing searing heat back to the road.
Sam Eden, Sanville’s fire chief, was barking orders when Dallas interrupted him. “Anybody inside?” Dallas yelled.
The chief gave him a sidelong glance. “It don’t look good for old Hadden. By the time we got here the fire was too far gone for my guys to get in and out of there safely. Worse thing is, his granddaughter went in for him.”
“What?” Dallas tensed, “Amy’s inside?”
“Been in there a couple of minutes now.”
“Anybody go in after her?”
The Chief shook his head. “We tried, but it’s too risky. The roof is going to cave any minute. Hey, wait! Wayburne, you can’t do that. Come back here!”
Dallas grabbed a yellow jacket, helmet, and respirator from the fire truck and yelled for the paramedics to meet him in the back lane. Throwing on the protective clothing and respirator, he ran through the neighbor’s property, into Hadden’s backyard. Two firemen tried to grab him, but his years on the football field paid off. He dodged them and raced up the wheelchair ramp to the back door. Locked! Two powerful kicks and the old wood splintered. He pushed it open. As he slid across the kitchen floor, something broke free in the front of the house, near the living room, and crashed to the floor sending sparks flying down the hallway.
Then he saw her.
Dodging toppled furniture, he dashed down the hall, reaching Amy just as she collapsed. He flipped her over his left shoulder and wound his way back toward the kitchen.
Suddenly, the house swayed on its foundation. The ceiling over his head buckled, sending drywall and wood splinters raining down upon them. He moved as fast as he could, re-entering the kitchen at the same second the far side of the room disintegrated. The roof was collapsing.
Move! Move! Move! Ten feet to the back door. He ran for it, plunging outside, as the roof caved behind him. He
That left the living room. Oh dear God. That room was all but totally consumed by fire. She returned to the hallway and belly-crawled forward. Everything was hot. There was no oxygen in the air! Her lungs were on fire and she couldn’t stop coughing. The heat intensified with every inch. She was crawling into an inferno.
Her head struck something hard—the bureau outside the living room. She was almost there. She pulled herself up and turned toward the living room, but she could see nothing. The heat was cooking her. She tried to call out to him, “Gramps!” But ended up choking instead. An overhead beam pulled away, dangling precariously, sending sparks flying around her. Smoke, heat, and fire were everywhere, but no Gramps.
She could no longer feel anything. Her body went numb. The searing heat disappeared; she felt cold. Then her feet left the floor.
CHAPTER 18
Dallas climbed the worn staircase to his apartment over the dreaded dentist’s office. Juggling grocery bags and dry cleaning, he unlocked the door, stepped inside, hit the lights, and looked around. He needed a cleaning service.
Putting food away was no problem. It either went into the near-empty pantry or the near-empty refrigerator. That job finished, he popped the top off a Lone Star beer, took a long swig, and walking over to the scanner, flipped it on. A second later, he caught Hadden’s address and the word fire. He dropped the beer in the sink, grabbed his coat and hat, and ran back out the door.
The patrolman was looking the wrong way when Dallas arrived at First Street, so he whipped around him and broke through the tape, maneuvering his pickup down the crowded street. He came to a fast stop behind the fire truck. Ahead, the road was clogged with emergency vehicles, onlookers, firemen, police, an ambulance, and hoses snaking through the street. He barely recognized Hadden’s house. “Hellndamnation!”
The core of the blaze centered on the front right corner of the bungalow, where flames reached over the rooftop, throwing searing heat back to the road.
Sam Eden, Sanville’s fire chief, was barking orders when Dallas interrupted him. “Anybody inside?” Dallas yelled.
The chief gave him a sidelong glance. “It don’t look good for old Hadden. By the time we got here the fire was too far gone for my guys to get in and out of there safely. Worse thing is, his granddaughter went in for him.”
“What?” Dallas tensed, “Amy’s inside?”
“Been in there a couple of minutes now.”
“Anybody go in after her?”
The Chief shook his head. “We tried, but it’s too risky. The roof is going to cave any minute. Hey, wait! Wayburne, you can’t do that. Come back here!”
Dallas grabbed a yellow jacket, helmet, and respirator from the fire truck and yelled for the paramedics to meet him in the back lane. Throwing on the protective clothing and respirator, he ran through the neighbor’s property, into Hadden’s backyard. Two firemen tried to grab him, but his years on the football field paid off. He dodged them and raced up the wheelchair ramp to the back door. Locked! Two powerful kicks and the old wood splintered. He pushed it open. As he slid across the kitchen floor, something broke free in the front of the house, near the living room, and crashed to the floor sending sparks flying down the hallway.
Then he saw her.
Dodging toppled furniture, he dashed down the hall, reaching Amy just as she collapsed. He flipped her over his left shoulder and wound his way back toward the kitchen.
Suddenly, the house swayed on its foundation. The ceiling over his head buckled, sending drywall and wood splinters raining down upon them. He moved as fast as he could, re-entering the kitchen at the same second the far side of the room disintegrated. The roof was collapsing.
Move! Move! Move! Ten feet to the back door. He ran for it, plunging outside, as the roof caved behind him. He
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