Page 89 of Love Again

Gripping the railing, I feel for the next one.

And then it hits me. That complete and utter exhaustion.

My vision starts to warp, darkness creeping in on either side. The heat is incredible. All I can do is stand there on one rung, holding on, breathing as evenly as I can.

You can do this. I talk myself through it.

There’s a sickening wave of nausea, and I think I might pass out. I take another step down, miss the rung, and I try to hang on, but my arms feel like lead weights. I can’t even make a fist, let alone try to grip. The idea of letting go seems somewhat pleasant.

But before I can make that choice, all my weight is relieved.

It’s my bear-man brother. Yelling. Yelling at me.

“Let go, asshole! I gotcha!”

I’m almost completely depleted. My arms drop but he’s got me, first on his shoulder, then under my armpits. It’s a bumpy ride the last few rungs, and then I’m standing, sort of, leaning on him for support.

But there’s no time to recoup. He rips off a glove, and with one bare hand, he grips my suit and starts hauling me out of there. By the time we hit the front door, he’s running, half dragging me along the way.

A second ambulance has pulled up, and there’s one leaving. I feel sick to my stomach, and not just from smoke. I tear off my mask and sit down heavily on Pokey’s back bumper. Keller turns without a word and heads back to the cottage fire.

Devon comes running up from around the engine, the EMT duffle in her hand.

My eyes stream from the smoke and everything is blury. “Cory? Was that Cory?”

She nods “He’s going to be fine. They took him to Mid-Coast Hospital to check him out. Mateus and Laurel are with him.”

“Where’s Audrey and Andy?” I peer around the chaos of the yard.

“Portland. They went in for an overnight.”

I wipe my face with a hand. “So lucky they’re not here.”

She’s opening her duffle. “I need to check you.”

I start to cough, which is going to make that left kidney scream. I hold my breath, trying to keep it back and close my eyes, fighting it. She keeps a hand on my shoulder. When the spasm passes, I look at her. “You have a fire to fight. I’m fine.”

There’s a yell from the barn. Three men from Thomaston are working what’s left of that fire. “Victim found!” is the cry, and I start to stand and then sit down heavily. That terrible weakness is still there. Devon leans over and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, then races toward the barn.

The flames are nearly extinguished. Hoses and men are being trained on the cottage and securing a perimeter, so the main house remains untouched. But now there are four engines, including two from Thomaston, and at least fifteen people here, and a lot of chaos.

The second ambulance pulls up closer to the barn. There are three men left, hosing it down. They pause and Devon calls for a gurney. Ten minutes later, it comes out. There’s a body strapped down.

In a few minutes, Devon comes striding back, her face grave.

“That was Jim Whitehead. The paramedics are working on him.”

I stop another wave of coughing. At least my vision is clearing.

“He’s suffering from smoke inhalation.”

I release a breath. “It doesn’t make sense. The cottage and the barn?” I close my eyes. Sparks, not from fire, but from a lack of oxygen, swirl in my mind.

“I need to check you out, Luke. You pushed yourself way too hard.”

“Stop. Just stop. I’m fine. Go. Do what you do best. I promise to stay here.”

Five minutes later, I break that promise.