my sister. The flames rose around them in angry tongues, unforgiving, unrelenting.
Jerked back into the present, Ivy tried again to roll over. The space grew hotter with every passing second. She knew it, she could feel it, the junk all around her inching closer and closer to ignition.
It would be simultaneous.
And deadly.
Flashover.
Again she struggled to wriggle loose, to free herself from the enormous weight that smothered her. Pain coursed through her head and shoulder. Every minuscule movement caused the pile to shudder and close in around her, filling in the spaces like sand poured into a jar. It was no use. She didn’t have the strength. The burden was too much to bear.
Somewhere from the vicinity of her pocket, she heard a shrill alarm sound. The shriek cut through everything else, filling the space, making her ears pulse with pain. Then there was nothing but heat as she gave herself up to the blackness that enveloped her body and soul.
Nick nestled himself into the crowd. All eyes were turned to the brilliant orange flames. He didn’t mind the acrid tang of smoke. It reminded him of back home, burning leaves in the fall. A photographer jostled his way to the front, camera pointed at the blaze. Nick was careful to step out of the way, admiring the camera as he did so. The irony was not lost on him. The paper would feature the fire in glorious detail while the artist would remain invisible just behind the photographer’s left elbow.
He itched to take a picture, too, with the elite camera he’d seen in a magazine. A Horseman, two lenses sharing a single shutter at lightning speed. It was not digital, of course, but he preferred it that way, relishing the anticipation that came as he waited for the film to develop. Waiting was a skill, a talent so many people lacked.
Nick pondered the conversation he’d observed between the woman firefighter and the strange guy he knew to be Cyril’s friend. He’d heard that the fellow’s name was Moe. Did Moe know anything incriminating? Anything he might have passed along to the firefighter? It bore consideration, but for now, Nick allowed himself to enjoy the fiery spectacle unfolding before him.
“Did you hear that?” a cadaverous old woman next to him hissed. “They said there’s a firefighter trapped inside.”
She clutched his arm as a pane of glass shattered on the upper floor. He patted her bony fingers. “It’s incredible, all right.”
He watched a spark, brilliant as a comet, explode from the roof and paint a luminous arc across the smoky sky. Definitely front-page material, he thought with satisfaction.
TWO
Tim Carnelli fought to keep the truck’s speed under control.
Ivy.
Her name echoed in his mind and danced circles around his brain.
He knew before he heard the name. He knew when the battalion chief’s voice came over the radio, pitched high against adrenaline and the sound of a working fire. Firefighter down.
“God help her,” he whispered as he tore down the main road through a thickening haze of smoke. “Help her to hang on.”
If he had more time to process, the irony would be palpable. Was it just last night he’d decided to move on? Even looking up Marcie’s number to give her a call? Forget about Ivy, he’d told himself. You were a fool to think she’d open her heart to you after Antonio. She might never trust anyone again, especially God.
He clenched the steering wheel so hard his fingers cramped up. Not now. It wasn’t time to dredge up past history.
Even so, an image rose in his mind. Ivy’s short hair blowing in the breeze, green eyes alight with laughter as they rode mountain bikes together in the pre-Antonio days.
Ivy.
His heart thundered in his chest as the radio crackled to life again.
Life flight.
The dispatcher calmly repeated the message and confirmed.
They were calling for the helicopter.
He wasn’t a firefighter, but everyone connected to the business knew what it meant when they called for a helicopter.
And it wasn’t good.
Strange sensations flooded Ivy’s senses. She felt the bump of the gurney as she was rolled along, the shouted commands of firefighters amped on adrenaline, and then inexplicably, Tim was there. When had he arrived at the fire scene? He must have heard the call go out on the radio.
She wanted to tell him she was okay, to ease the terror written on his usually smiling face, but her mouth would not cooperate. He squeezed her arm with his strong fingers.
“It’s okay, Ivy. You’re going to make it through this.”
She felt her own fear ease slightly. She tried to hold his hand, but he was abruptly pulled away. He mouthed something she couldn’t hear as she was loaded onto a helicopter. The chopper blades cut through the air with rhythmic whopping sounds.
A familiar voice spoke up over the noise. Ivy’s eyes were closed, but she knew it was her cousin, Mitch. She could smell his cologne through the oxygen mask, over the odor of antiseptic and bandages the medics had applied. She was comforted knowing Mitch was the on-duty flight nurse. He was the best.
“Come on, V. Open up those green eyes. You can do it. Imagine we’re back in the country and I’m about to whip you at hide-and-seek. You never won once in our entire childhood, remember? And then there’s pinball. I can beat you with one hand tied behind my back. What do you say to that?”
Mitch Luzan’s face swam into view. Curly black hair, thick eyebrows, sardonic smile on his chubby face. Even though she was immobilized except for her arms, strapped from head to toe to a backboard, the sight of him brought her comfort.
“That’s ’cuz you cheat.” Her voice came out as a croak, muffled by the mask.
“Well, that’s better.” He used a small light to check her pupils. “Imagine getting a call to come and transport a victim and finding out it’s you. And to think I tried to get out of this shift.” He shook his head and checked her IV. “That was pretty dumb, letting yourself get buried. I thought they trained you hotshots how to prevent stuff like that. What happened to the big bad invincible Beria?”
She tried to answer but succumbed instead to a coughing fit. Pulling off the mask, she waved away his hands. “What’s broken?” she finally managed.
“Well, if I had to make a diagnosis right now I’d say we’re looking at collarbone and shoulder damage, a concussion, possible internal stuff and a burn or two.”
She grimaced at the list. “I’m fine. Just banged up.”
He leaned over to put on his helmet for the landing and zipped the jumpsuit, which strained to cover his stomach. “Tell you what, V. How about you let me be the flight nurse, because I am an excellent one after all, and you just work on doing the patient thing for a while? That will be a challenge for you, I know, Miss I Gotta Be in Charge of Everything.” He began to radio information
