She hurried toward the dining room to find Susan. Even if it turned out to be a false alarm, the director would no doubt call the fire in. Susan’s husband was a lieutenant at Station 2—Adam’s boss. If they called it in, Adam would make the run, and he didn’t know Bryn was here.
If he found out . . . She blew out a breath and with it pushed away the memory of the argument they’d had before Adam left for his shift Wednesday. He hadn’t called her once since then. But then, she hadn’t called him either. She sniffed the air and thought she detected a hint of smoke. Bobby. Sneaking another cigarette.
Where was Susan anyway?
“Hang on, Charlie. I’ll be right back.” She headed for the service elevator, breaking into a jog. But a shout brought her up short.
Susan appeared around the corner at the end of the T-shaped hall, racing toward them. “Get everybody out! Get out! Now!” She swept past Bryn and pounded on the door of the shelter’s family quarters, where Linda Gomez and her children slept.
Bryn stared, and for a moment dared to hope Susan was just adding a little urgency to a routine fire drill. But when the director turned to her, Bryn saw panic in her eyes. This was no act.
“What’s going on?” Bryn felt like she was moving through wet concrete.
“The hallway on the second floor is full of smoke,” Susan yelled over her shoulder, running toward the dining room. “Get everybody out. There’s fire somewhere!”
“Fire? Where?” Charlie wheeled down the hallway toward them, cradling a canvas bag.
“Upstairs. Second floor.” Susan pointed down the hallway to where the elevator led up to the shelter’s office space. “I got off the elevator up there and I couldn’t even see.”
“I hope you didn’t ride the elevator back down,” Charlie scolded.
“I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t see my way down the hall to the stairs.”
Susan was a firefighter’s wife. She knew the fire safety codes. She wouldn’t have used the elevator unless she had no choice.
Panting and coughing, the director pounded on the door to the family quarters again. “Bryn, go check the men’s quarters and make sure everybody is out. I’ll get Linda and the kids up and get the other women out.”
“Charlie, get out of here! Now! You know the plan. We’ll meet outside in the parking lot.”
Bryn looked past Susan. “I was just up there . . . not forty minutes ago. Everything was fine.” She retraced her steps in her mind. She’d just finished charting and filing the new intake forms when Charlie had appeared in the doorway and challenged her to a game of gin rummy. Clients weren’t supposed to be in the office area except for the intake interview or to make a phone call or get their prescription meds out of the locker, but Charlie was almost like an employee and had special privileges.
She searched her brain, trying to remember those last minutes in the office, then riding down in the elevator with Charlie. A hazy image formed and her pulse lurched. Surely she hadn’t forgotten to—
“You didn’t smell smoke when you were up there?” Susan’s voice sounded accusing.
“No. Nothing. Did you, Charlie?” The flood of dread rising inside her took firmer hold.
The veteran shook his head. “No, but my sniffer don’t work too well.”
Susan grabbed the receiver from the phone hanging in the hallway. “I called 9-1-1. Why aren’t they answering that alarm?”
Bryn froze. “You already called it in?” If he wasn’t out on another call, Adam would make the run. And if he discovered her here, she would never hear the end of it.
At the end of the hall, Linda Gomez and her children, all still in their pajamas, scurried toward the shelter’s main entrance.
Susan took charge. “I’ll call again and then get the women out. Bryn, go! You take the men’s wing. Hurry!”
Bryn nodded and crossed the hallway to the men’s section with a new sense of urgency. The musty locker-room odor this wing always seemed to hold deluged her. Half a dozen shapes sat hunkered on cots against the far wall.
“What’s going on?” Tony X alternately clapped his hands over his ears and rubbed his eyes.
“We’ve got a fire in the building. We need to evacuate.” She had to shout over the blare of the alarms.
Bobby, a twenty-something addict whose parents had finally kicked him out of their house, crawled back under the thin blanket and yanked it over his head. “Wake me up when it’s over,” he moaned.
“No, Bobby. This is serious. Get up. Everybody out. Where are the rest of the guys?”
A heavily tattooed man—Bryn couldn’t remember his name—pointed toward the dining room. “Some of them headed for the back exit.”
“Okay . . . okay. Come on guys, move it. Bobby, come on!”
He didn’t argue and trudged after the other men into the hall. Bryn peered into the darkened room. All the beds were empty. A couple of the new guys had gotten on night shift at the plastics plant and, according to the log, they didn’t get off work until three a.m. She glanced at the clock. 2:27. They wouldn’t be coming in for a while.
Out in the hall, Charlie rolled his chair ahead of them, the canvas bag holding all his earthly goods balanced on his lap. The air was still clear, but now another set of smoke alarms kicked in. This time when Bryn inhaled, she clearly smelled smoke.
The crescendo of distant sirens rose from the west—Station 2.
Bryn darted into the game room across the hall and grabbed her purse from the back of the sofa. She looped the narrow strap over her head and slipped an arm through, crossing the strap over her chest. Thank goodness she’d brought it down with her. She usually kept it locked in the office, but tonight she’d brought it downstairs so she’d have her cell phone and change for the vending machine.
She traced her steps back through the doorway only to see Sparky barreling through the back door. The dog skidded to a stop three feet in front of her and gave a high-pitched yelp, then ran back outside, nearly tripping Susan.
Bryn heard Charlie hollering Sparky’s name from outside the door. Good—at least Charlie was safely out. Someone must have helped him maneuver his chair up the rickety makeshift ramp.
Susan scowled. “Why is that dog loose? What are you doing, Bryn? Get out! Is anybody still in the men’s quarters?”
“No. The beds are all empty.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Everybody’s out.”
“Let’s go, then! We’ll do a head count in the parking lot.” Susan motioned for her to follow and ran back toward the entrance.
“I’m right behind you.”
She jogged behind Susan, but a nagging image wouldn’t let her leave the building yet. She had to check . . . had to make sure she was wrong. The minute the director disappeared through the outside door, Bryn wheeled and ran in the other direction down the hallway to the door that opened onto the stairwell.
She turned and pressed her
back against the door. If she
went out there now, Adam
would see her for sure.
2
Bryn reached for the heavy steel door. She was positive—almost positive—she’d blown out the candle before she came down, but she had to make sure.
Susan’s panicked voice echoed in her mind, talking about the second story being filled with smoke, but she pushed the voice away. Surely Susan was exaggerating. She placed a palm flat on the door. It was cool to the touch. The handle too. If it was only the candle smoking, setting off the alarms, she could take care of it before the fire department got involved. Adam would be furious with her if she’d brought the trucks out on a false alarm.
She yanked the door open, but quickly shut it again. The stairwell beyond was a haze of smoke. No wonder the fire alarms were going crazy. Oddly disoriented, she leaned against the closed door, her breath coming in short gasps. Her throat burned and expanded, making her cough the way she had the one time she’d tried smoking a cigarette in junior high.
Susan said she’d come down the elevator. Bryn looked back toward the bank of doors. Maybe she could still get to the second floor that way. There were fire extinguishers just inside each entrance to the stairwell. But one look down the smoke-filled hall told her it was too late for that.
She ran toward the main entrance where everyone had exited, but a flash of lights beyond the door stopped her in her tracks. She had to stand on tiptoe to peer out the square of glass in the top of the door. In the parking lot a ladder truck braked, and four firefighters in full gear jumped off as it rolled to a stop. They ran toward the building, two by two. Even dressed out, Adam’s gait was distinctive. The firefighter beside him was obviously feminine in spite of the heavy gear she wore. Molly Edmonds. Bryn dismissed a twinge of jealousy. Adam had never given her one reason to mistrust him.
She turned and pressed her back against the door. If she went out there now, Adam would see her for sure.
Holding her breath against the encroaching smoke, she sprinted for the tiny kitchen across from the game room and used the master key on the lanyard around her neck to let herself out that door. She dashed around the side of the building, gasping for fresh air. Leaning over, hands on knees, she coughed hard and tried to seine oxygen through the ash and smoke. She pushed her hair off her face. Her skin felt gritty.
She spotted Susan near the ladder truck, talking to the station captain, Manny Vermontez. Susan pointed as the two shouted over the roar of the truck’s engine, but Bryn could barely make out what they were saying.
The shelter’s residents huddled in a half circle about twenty feet from the building. They stomped and blew on their hands, looking dazed. Charlie had one of Linda Gomez’s kids wrapped up in his lap robe and sitting with him in the wheelchair. The other two stood shivering, wearing only footed pajamas, clinging to their mother’s knees.
Susan’s gaze flitted over the group, and she stabbed at the air with her index finger, reading names off the sign-in sheet over the raucous chorus of sirens and smoke alarms. She must have grabbed the list off the bulletin board as they evacuated. Sparky circled the huddled group yipping, as if he was herding cattle.
Bryn jogged in a wide arc behind the cluster of emergency vehicles parked on the grounds and eased into the huddle. Charlie spotted her and gave a shout. “There’s Bryn!”
Susan whirled and her shoulders sagged. “Thank God! Where were you? We thought you were still in there.”
“I came out through the kitchen.”
“Why?” Susan’s nostrils flared. “I thought you were right behind me.”
“I had to check . . . one more time.”
Susan glared at her, but only said, “Help me count. We’ve got to make sure everybody got out. The night shift guys weren’t back yet, were they?”
“No, they hadn’t checked in . . . unless they came in while I was upstairs. Charlie said they don’t usually get in until around three-thirty. All the beds in the men’s quarters were empty when I left.”
“Okay, good.” Susan looked past Bryn and hollered, “Bobby!”
Bobby shuffled over and the director grabbed his shoulder and pointed at the cluster of emergency workers skittering around the building. “Go tell them we found Bryn. Be sure they know.”
He ran off across the lot and Susan inhaled deeply and went back to counting heads, but when she came to Charlie, she whirled, eyes wild. “What about Zeke Downing? Has anybody seen him?”
Charlie shrugged. Zeke had mostly kept to himself after the dog fight.
Bryn shook her head. “I didn’t think he was here tonight. I never checked him in. I don’t remember seeing him on the sign-in sheet.”
Susan scanned the paper frantically. “No. But he was here!” she shouted. “I saw him. He came up to the office to make a phone call. I chased him out of the stairwell right after you came on duty.”
Bryn lifted her shoulders and kept shaking her head. “I didn’t see him at dinner . . . or all night for that matter. Boss wasn’t tied up outside either, and—”
“Bobby!” Susan cupped her hands and yelled across the lot.
The young man waved over his shoulder at the firefighter he was in animated conversation with and loped back toward Susan.
Susan met him halfway, shouting as she ran. “Did you see Zeke? Did he get out?”
Charlie turned to Bryn and shrugged. “I never saw him tonight either.” The veteran grabbed the wheels of his chair, his arms making rowing motions as he bumped across the overgrown parking lot toward Susan and Bobby. Sparky bounded behind the wheelchair. Bryn heard Charlie repeat to Susan what he’d told her.
Susan’s eyes held a frantic sheen. “You never saw him get out, or you didn’t see him at all tonight?”
“I ain’t seen him tonight. But then he steers clear of me. You know that.”
An odd noise made Bryn turn back to face the shelter. At that instant, something popped above them, near the roof of the building. Glass exploded from the second-story windows, and flames shot out the gaping craters.
Bryn gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Not more than ten minutes ago they’d been playing gin rummy and sniffing the air for invisible smoke. Now tongues of bright red and orange flames licked at the windows on the upper story. Thick smoke billowed into the night sky, silhouetted against the faint neon glow from downtown Hanover Falls, six blocks to the west.
Susan ran toward the truck, and Captain Manny Vermontez met her halfway, shouting over the noise of the engine and a low rumble that Bryn now realized was caused by the fire itself.
“All your people are out now? You’re sure?” Manny motioned toward the building, his fingers hovering nervously on the radio he carried.
Susan pressed her hands to her temples. “There’s one possible client unaccounted for. Zeke Downing. Two others haven’t checked in yet tonight . . . we’re pretty sure.”
“Pretty sure?” Captain Vermontez shook his head. “You gotta be positive, Susan.” He nodded at the list crumpled in her fist. “You’ve checked everyone off?”
Bryn heard Susan explain to the captain about Zeke, and about the shift workers at the plastics plant.
“Okay, we’ll make one more sweep,” Vermontez said. “But then I’ve got to get my men out. You clear everybody away from the building.” He motioned across the lot to where they were huddled, then turned and ran toward the building, shouting into his radio.
Susan nodded and sprinted across the parking lot, motioning in broad strokes. “They want us out of the way. Everybody move to the other side of the street. We need to get away from here.”
Bryn scooped the baby, Miguel, from Charlie’s lap. The littlest Gomez girl whimpered and her mother picked her up. Bryn bent with the baby heavy on her right arm and wrestled the older girl into her other arm. She followed the ragtag group as they made their way across the pavement. They huddled together on the steps of an empty office building, mesmerized by the fire. They’d been shivering before, but now—even from across the street, Bryn could feel the heat from the blaze.
Bobby, Tony X, and the two other young men from the shelter hadn’t crossed with them, but stood in the parking lot, hands on hips, staring up at the flames. Sparky had left Charlie’s side and trotted between the three men, alternately nuzzling their hands and barking at the fire.
A second engine from Station 2 arrived and joined the battle. When the first truck from Station 1 showed up, Bryn knew it must be bad. She hoped Manny got his men out of there before it was too late. She watched the entrances, looking for Adam . . . praying he was safe, willing him to come out of that building.
The Station 1 crew set up floodlights, but by now the fire itself illuminated the night sky. Bryn had seen Adam and three other firefighters head inside, dragging the hoses. Manny had gone in, too, after he talked to Susan. Bryn hadn’t seen any of them come out yet. What were they waiting for? Zach Morgan, and another firefighter—maybe Manny’s son, Lucas Vermontez?—were talking on the radio. She recognized Zac
h’s bass voice, but his words were gobbled up in the roar of the inferno.
She watched as Zach motioned to the engineer, then ran toward the building. Manny’s son—if that’s who it was—followed. Bryn put a hand over her mouth. They surely weren’t going inside? Not now. They should be ordering men out, not sending more in!
Adam always reassured her that he knew what he was doing, that he’d been well-trained, that his buddies watched his back. “I’m safer on the job than you are driving to your dad’s on the Interstate,” he was fond of saying. But she knew he only told her that so she wouldn’t worry. Judging by the fire that blazed behind every window on the second floor, she couldn’t imagine where anyone could be inside the building that wasn’t consumed with—
“Get out! Get out!” A shout went up from the firefighters working outside the building. The earth rumbled beneath Bryn’s feet, and a deafening explosion made her clap her hands over her ears. When the earth finally stilled, Bryn looked up at the shelter, her blood like ice.
The few windows that remained after the first blast now burst out of their casings. A spray of glass and ash rained down on them, and Bryn turned away from the terrific onslaught of debris, trying to make herself a shield for the babies.
Susan shouted something she couldn’t decipher. Bryn dropped to the ground, pushing the children onto the brown grass between the sidewalk and the curb. Linda Gomez screamed, and her kids wailed in unison.
Bryn scrambled to her knees and spread her arms wide, as if she could gather the kids beneath protective wings. She craned her neck to peer over her shoulder. It was chaos across Grove Street, but she buried her face in her shoulder and strained to peer through the gray smoke and debris that swirled in the air around them.
Oh, dear God. There were men still in there. Had Adam made it out? Surely he had? But where was he? She needed to see him. Her gaze scoured the lot, and she counted firemen, desperately trying to locate him among the firefighters scurrying around the building. It was chaotic and impossible to see through the dense smoke, but there were too many unaccounted for. Where were all the firefighters who’d gone into the building?
HF01 - Almost Forever Page 2