by Angela Scott
The deer veered to the left. There wasn’t anything to the left but the hilly embankment. Run straight into it? Up it again? What was going on? We were wasting time.
We’re going to die. We’re going to burn to death.
“Not today, we aren’t.” Cole followed the deer and ran straight toward the rise. My hand clasped tightly to the stroller, underneath his large hand, forced me in that direction. I expected to scramble back up the hill again or run smack into it.
Only we didn’t.
“Duck!”
I lowered my head just as the sound of the wheels of the stroller barreled over the corrugated metal, bouncing around and adding to the baby’s cries.
What in the world?
Cole followed the deer, who made her way farther into the large metal tube that ran below the road — an underground waterway built to protect the highway in case of flooding. An inch of stagnant water covered the bottom, and we splashed our way through it.
Mid-way, the deer stopped. We stopped. She blocked us from moving forward. She turned her head, staring first in one direction toward the opening and then the other.
Cole forced me to squat and then draped his body over mine and most of the stroller. Bob continued his fearful cries. Callie meowed from inside Cole’s jacket. I had no time to really comfort either of them, though I stuck my hand beneath the ash-covered blanket. Bob wrapped his whole hand around my finger.
In my optimistically agnostic way, I offered up a silent prayer.
Please, save us. Please, don’t let us die. Please, don’t let us catch on fire. Please, please, please.
“Keep your head down,” Cole whispered against my ear. “Just keep it down.”
The fire was going to roll right over us at any moment. I kept my head lowered and my eyes squeezed shut. If the fire entered the tube from both openings, trapping us, it could cook us alive. That seemed the most likely scenario.
The ground vibrated. The grumble of the fire filled the interior of the tube, almost deafening. I could hear nothing else. The metal walls warmed to the touch. I expected them to burst into flames any moment.
Please, please, please, please.
Cole’s body pressed against mine as he draped himself over me, willing to sacrifice himself first. His lips moved against my ear. I couldn’t hear anything he said.
A few seconds turned into thirty. Thirty seconds became sixty. Sixty turned into ninety.
I opened my eyes after I’d counted to a hundred and thirty, even saying Mississippi between each number to make the count more accurate, and lifted my head slightly, totally against Cole’s instructions.
What is going on?
We should’ve been engulfed by now, yet we weren’t.
A wall of flames swayed at the entrance of the tunnel, enveloping the entire opening. I turned my head slightly and found the other end of the tube engulfed as well. It toyed at the edges, sending up puffs of steam as it touched the stagnant water. When it did, it retreated as if the water burned the fire.
An inch of murky water against a ravening fire — it didn’t make sense.
No smoke filled the tiny space either. No intense heat consumed us. The metal walls were hot, but bearable. Even the air seemed easier to breathe.
Cole shoved my head down and kept his hand firmly on top to keep me from looking up again.
Silence.
The thunderous roar of the fire — gone. Poof. In an instant.
It had been so quick, so sudden, that I assumed my eardrums had burst from the intensity of the noise. I’d become deaf.
But Bob hiccupped. He hiccupped several times.
I shook Cole’s hand off the top of my head and looked toward the opening of the metal tunnel.
What is going on?
A haze wisped across the opening, much lighter than the deathly smoke, almost like a Halloween fog machine. Eerie, but not necessarily frightening. I had seen frightening only minutes before.
No fire.
The dark red and orange flames had disappeared from both openings of the tube.
I could see outside through the clouds of smoke. It didn’t look good, but I hadn’t expected to be alive to see anything. Scorched grass, brush, trees — black and smoldering.
Callie poked her head out from Cole’s jacket, meowed, and when Cole unzipped it, she jumped into his arms. He held her against his chest and petted her to calm her.
I drew the blanket to the side. Bob’s sad eyes stared up at me. He sucked on his thumb but yanked it out of his mouth and reached for me. I quickly undid the buckles and pulled him from the stroller. He wrapped one hand in my hair and the other around my jacket as he pressed his tiny face into my neck. I kissed him several times, leaving sooty smudge marks all over his forehead.
The deer took a few steps toward the far opening but didn’t go any farther.
“Do you think it’s over?” I looked to Cole for answers.
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m not leaving this spot until she does.” He nodded toward the hesitant deer.
“I told you she was different.”
Cole opened his mouth to say something, but the deer walked to the edge of the tunnel and stuck her head outside — only her head. She looked back at us, snorted, and beat her front hooves on the metal before turning around to dart out the opening.
“Well, there you go.” Cole continued to hold my frightened cat. “Not sure about you, but that’s good enough for me.”
Chapter 37
“Stand back!” Cole raised a booted foot, ready to kick the door down. “I’ve got this.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. The door appeared impenetrable. People who lived in mansions high on a hill didn’t do things cheaply, so I was certain the door was made of grade-A, top-notch stuff. And if it wasn’t, the locks and deadbolts most certainly were.
The last thing I needed was for Cole to break his ankle.
“Stop!” I startled him before he could kick the door, and he whipped around to look at me.
He threw his hands up. “What did you go and do that for?”
“That door is like eleven feet high and probably a good six inches thick. You’ll break your foot. If we can’t find another way in, then we move on. It’s not worth it.” I adjusted Bob, who had fallen fast asleep in the sling, his little head resting against my chest. After everything we’d been through, the poor kid wouldn’t let go of me, so the baby and my backpack swapped spots — backpack in the stroller, kid strapped to my front. Bob weighed half as much as my backpack and the change was good for the both of us. “I don’t want you getting hurt. We can’t afford for that to happen.”
He nodded. “I see your point, but we’re tired. We can’t keep ‘moving on’ and places like this are going to be locked up tight. It’s that kind of neighborhood, just look around.”
I did. It was one of the fanciest neighborhoods I’d ever seen, except that yards had gone to seed or had dried out completely. Bushes and trees, which were most likely trimmed by hired gardeners, were now overgrown or dead. The deer didn’t seem to mind. She nibbled on what remained of the branches and grass. Any new growth didn’t have a chance as she moved from one area to another, eating it all. She kept her head down as she ate but lifted it every so often to check on us.
A year ago, this neighborhood on the hill would’ve been the envy of everyone — glorious and refined with its water features, U-shaped driveways, fancy gates, and cobbled walkways. The epitome of living the dream to the fullest.
Not anymore.
It made me think of the chain-link fence back at the mud flats. Based on the signs hanging from it, this was supposed to be the good side of the fence. Walmart. The town. This neighborhood.
Only it wasn’t.
This side of the fence sucked just as much as the other side. Maybe even more so because of the false promise.
“Getting in one of these houses is going to require some brute strength. That’s just the way it is.”
�
��I know, but—”
“ And if you remember, it was me who kicked down that cabin door back when you almost froze to death on the mountain. I did that.” He smiled. “Two kicks and a shoulder thrust.” He pointed his thumbs at himself. “This guy.”
I remembered.
We had found ourselves on a mountain caught in an unexpected snowstorm ill-prepared. That same mountain that had been engulfed in monstrous flames. If Cole hadn’t found the cabin and busted down the door so we could get in, I wouldn’t be alive now to watch him attempt to bust down another.
“But that door was a lot less—”
He cut me off. “A door is a door is a door. Besides, it isn’t like fancy big houses just leave their front doors unlocked.” He reached for the handle and turned it. “Not even in an…” The door swung right open.”…apocalypse.” His last word lost its oomph and faded into silence.
I didn’t say a word.
He stared into the dark interior of the house and the unlocked door for a moment. Slowly, he turned to look at me. “I know you well enough that for you to not say anything is probably killing you right now, so I will just say thanks. Your restraint is appreciated.”
I nodded, not fully trusting myself to speak just yet.
“Well, it’s been a really really long night, and I think we’ll be safe here.” He stepped to the side and swung his arm. “After you.”
I rubbed Bob’s back but didn’t move toward the door as I looked around, not quite ready to commit to the house just yet. We’d run from the fire and walked most of the night with the fear it might return, creeping up and over powering us again. I could still smell smoke, though I didn’t know if it was real or because smoke had embedded itself into everything — our skin, our hair, our clothes, everything we carried. To just stop, to not keep moving, didn’t seem right, even though I didn’t think I could walk another mile. Exhaustion encapsulated every fiber of my being.
“It’s okay,” Cole said. “I’ll keep watch in case the fire starts up again.” He motioned to the open door. “I bet the beds in there are very comfortable.”
I bet they were, too. A house of this size had to have multiple comfortable beds.
I went ahead and stepped into the large foyer.
At the beginning of the whole apocalypse, I would’ve insisted Cole go first. What if there were dead bodies inside? That had been my biggest fear, seeing a dead body. I’d seen enough dead bodies to be somewhat desensitized. Not that I wanted to see more dead bodies, because I didn’t. Life had made me tougher.
A musty smell seized the place. A fine layer of dust covered everything and swirled in the air. A set of spiral staircases wound their way toward the second level, meeting at a balcony landing above. The intricate detailing of the iron railing on both stairs was sublime, most likely custom made. The most gorgeous and largest chandelier I’d ever seen hung above me which, if cleaned, would bounce the early morning light off its crystals and onto the walls. Mirrors, marbled floors, oriental rugs, couches, vases, and tables — everything was symmetrical. Two of everything. If I drew a line right down the middle, both sides of the room would look identical. Just inverted.
“I think my entire house could fit right here.” Maybe I exaggerated a little, but it wasn’t far from the truth. The foyer was big enough.
“Mine, too.” Cole left the front door open, in case the deer wanted to come in, and then held Callie’s leash as he came to stand near me. “What better way to show people how much you’re worth than to build a massive house on a hill?”
I wondered if the owners realized how pointless it was now.
“You should go and get some sleep.” He motioned to the stairs. “Bedrooms are probably all up there.”
I nodded but didn’t move. “How am I supposed to sleep? Because I don’t think I’ll be able to.”
He pointed to Bob, who remained snuggled and asleep in the carrier. “Just do what he’s doing.”
“He doesn’t know better.”
Cole scooped Callie into his arms and stood in front of me. “I told you I’d keep watch. We’ll be okay.”
I looked at him and locked my gaze. “Do you promise?”
I expected him to lower his eyes or to make some snappy remark about how he couldn’t make that kind of guarantee, but he stared right back at me. “I absolutely do.”
Bob slept next to me on the king-sized bed, his balled-up fists resting at either side of his head in a way only babies slept. His dark lashes brushed against his cheeks and his formula breath warmed my face. I didn’t mind the smell. It let me know he had a full belly. He was clean, content, fed, and safe. That was everything I wanted for him.
I swept the wisps of hair from his forehead, and then tucked the blankets and pillows around him so he wouldn’t fall off the bed after I climbed out. Callie slept on the other side of him, curled up against his back, purring and content. The deer lay on the floor, on an ornate rug, next to the bed, eyes closed. The homeowners would be appalled. Good god, a filthy animal, a wild one from the outdoors, sleeping on our hundred-thousand-dollar Persian rug! The audacity! I suppose we’ll have to buy another. I imagined it said in a highfalutin way. Totally judgmental on my part, but most likely true. The aura of the house gave that allusion.
I eased myself from the bed, careful not to disturb a very tired Bob. Cole had opened the double glass doors leading to the second story balcony just off the master bedroom. He leaned against the railing that overlooked the valley.
He had to be exhausted. We all had been, but he did what he said he would do and kept watch as I slept.
“I can watch now.” I slipped next to his side and looked out over the destroyed land below. Everything had burned — everything — and what little remained, smoldered. In the distance, reds and oranges glowed, still burning as the fire turned directions and headed south, away from us.
Cole sighed. “I’m glad we left when we did.” He turned to me. “If we hadn’t smelled that smoke or if the fire came later when we were asleep, we wouldn’t have had a chance.”
I nodded. I thought those same things. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
He turned back to the view. “Me either.”
His hand rested on the railing. I placed mine over the top of his, much in the same way he had done to mine when I held onto Bob’s stroller. “Thank you for everything.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t do much.”
I took hold of his hand and forced him to turn and see me. “You came back for me when I got lost in the smoke. You didn’t have to, but you did. You trusted the deer and followed her. You put yourself over the top of me and Bob when the fire came barreling toward us. All of that isn’t anything. That’s a lot.”
When the fire stayed at the edge of the opening, not coming inside and engulfing us, I had a feeling he had something to do with that, too, but I didn’t say so.
“Anyone would’ve done that stuff.”
I took both of his hands in mine. “Not everyone.”
He hadn’t cleaned himself yet. Watching over us was the priority over everything else. Ash clung to his hair and shoulders. Soot smeared his face and hands.
With a smile, I reached up and brushed some of the residue from his hair.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked as the hints of a smile creased his own lips.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. I ran my thumbs over both of his cheeks, wiping away the dirty grime. “I’m just happy to be alive, I guess. Even if I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring.”
“Optimism is good. We’re going to need as much of it as we can get.”
I wiped off the tip of his nose. “You’re a good man, Cole. You really are.”
He looked embarrassed, lowered his eyes, and shook his head. “Not always.”
I took his face between both of my hands, making him look at me. “Well,” I said, still smiling. “Maybe not always. That’s too much to ask of a person. Most of the time you are, and I’m
grateful for that.”
He didn’t say anything.
I rose on my tiptoes and kissed the corner of his mouth.
Chapter 38
Cole collapsed face down on the bed, one arm and one leg dangling over the edge as he snored. I couldn’t help but feel guilty. He’d stayed awake for so long, watching over us. His body couldn’t take any more. Bob continued to sleep right next to him. Callie purred peacefully. The deer didn’t budge when I walked past her.
I couldn’t blame them.
Everyone was exhausted.
I was too, but it wouldn’t have been fair to Cole. I’d slept enough.
I placed his arm and leg on the bed, so they no longer dangled over the side. It still didn’t look comfortable, but it did look better. I drew a blanket over him and tucked it in.
The fire left nothing but smoke and charred embers in its wake. I stood on the balcony for several minutes, watching and feeling that at least for the moment, we were safe. I decided to explore the house.
A place of this size had to have supplies. Since I had no idea how long we’d be here, where we were going, or if we’d have another chance to find more, I needed to see what we had to work with. Opportunities such as this one shouldn’t go to waste. Even though we hadn’t really tapped into our own supplies yet, the longer we didn’t have to, the better.
The afternoon sun filtered in through the windows, but I still took my flashlight with me. Not only would a house of this magnitude have all sorts of possible treasures for us, it was bound to have creepy corners, too.
And I didn’t like creepy corners.
I left the door to the master bedroom open so I could hear Bob if he woke up. I didn’t plan to explore for too long without checking on him every so often.
Most of the rooms on the second floor were bedrooms, just as pristine and decorated as the master. Nothing personal or homey hung on the walls or sat on the nightstands. No family pictures or anything told me what kind of people lived here. It felt odd, like a hotel or museum. Besides expensive-looking works of art, the only portrait on the wall was of a distinguished man who appeared to be in his sixties or seventies. The clothes the gentleman wore appeared to be from a totally different century. A past relative? Maybe. Or maybe they liked pictures of old men. Who knew?