Deep Shadows (19 page)

Max returned a moment later and sat on the ottoman in front of her. “He's fine. He's sound asleep.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came over to tell you about the fire.”

“Where—”

“Downtown. I knocked, but you didn't answer. When I heard your shouting, I let myself in with my key.”

Max placed his hands on Shelby's shoulders and rubbed them gently. His touch and the look of concern in his eyes were more than she could bear. She'd resisted her feelings for him for years, and she longed to collapse into his arms, to allow him to comfort and calm her.

Instead she pulled away and buried her face in her hands. It had all been so real—her dream, her fear. She could still taste it in her mouth. It was all she could do not to run to Carter's room and watch him breathe.

“Are you okay?”

Instead of answering him, she stood, walked to the front hall, and snatched her house keys off the hall table. “Tell me about the fire.”

“The power lines broke. My guess is when they did, it sparked several blazes.”

“But the transformer was already out.”

Max shrugged. “The one south of town was. There's another smaller substation on the east side. I suppose the flare overloaded it. Or maybe it was the buildup in the lines. Either way, there are several fires burning.”

She opened the door and stopped so abruptly that Max bumped into her.

“The aurora—”

“It stopped a few minutes ago.”

“There will be pulses. It'll probably come back again.”

“It can't do much more damage than it's already done.”

“It sets everyone on edge, though.” The night air was filled with the acrid smell of her dreams. She pushed away the feelings the dream left behind—of fighting to crawl across the floor, of fearing for Carter's safety. “Downtown… it's burning?”

“Some of it, but the fires won't spread past the east side of town. You don't have to worry about that. The blaze would have to jump Main Street.”

“Carter is safe.” She pushed her fingers against her lips, denying voice to her worries and fears.

“He's safe.”

“But there might be others who aren't.”

She turned back into the room, snatched up her backpack, and crammed it onto the bare bottom shelf of her refrigerator. Grabbing a pen and scrap of paper from the junk drawer, she scribbled a note telling Carter to stay in the house. A note was not really necessary. She was certain he would sleep through the night, because nothing short of a fire engine in his bedroom could wake him. But she taped the note to the inside of the door anyway, closed the door and locked it, and then she turned to Max, who was still waiting.

She knew he needed to be downtown, helping with the fires. She had slowed him down, and his constant glances toward the horizon—a horizon that glowed with the light of the fires—confirmed that he was anxious to go.

Shelby pushed past him, hurrying down the sidewalk. He jogged to catch up with her.

“You don't have to go. I wanted you to know what was happening. I didn't want you…” He pulled her to a stop, looked down at his hand on her arm, and quickly stuck his hands into his back pockets. “I didn't want you to be frightened.”

“I'm awake now, Max. I'm not frightened, and I am going to help.”

T
WENTY
-S
EVEN

L
ike many small Texas towns, Abney's downtown area was built on a square with the courthouse in the middle. Parking extended around the courthouse, and a paved area was bordered by a two-lane road that many of the teenagers “circled” on Friday nights. Max had done so himself all those years ago, with Shelby by his side. On the outer side of the road was a rim of buildings—a hardware store, a bank, restaurants, a tax office, law practices. The business of Abney took place around
the square
. Five years ago, the top floors of some of these buildings had been converted into apartments. The renovations were part of a downtown rejuvenation grant.

Abney had grown over the years, and much of its expansion—large gas stations, fast-food joints, auto supply stores—happened on the edge of town or on the county road that intersected the town several blocks west of downtown.

But the heartbeat of Abney? It was on the square, and now that square was on fire.

Max told himself that a hundred men would already be there, including all of the Abney fire department. He convinced himself that the ten minutes he'd spent at Shelby's wouldn't matter much. Could one man make any difference amidst a multi-structure blaze?

As they neared downtown, he heard the sound of breaking glass.

“There.” Shelby pointed east and across the street. “At the jeweler's.”

Two people wearing hoodies had shattered the front window. Max could see one person filling a backpack with items, while another took a hammer to smash in the lock on the front door.

Instinctively, he started toward them.

“Don't!” Shelby jerked him back.

“We can't just let them—”

“We have to, Max.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him in the direction of the blaze.

They covered the next two blocks quickly. People hurried toward the courthouse, coming from all directions. Some carried blankets and others had buckets. Max wasn't sure what good either would be. When he and Shelby rounded the corner, they both stopped and stared. The scene before them was like something out of a disaster movie.

The fire had engulfed all of the structures along the north side of the square—the bank, Western wear store, café, and flower shop were a burning mass of lumber and shingles and supplies. He couldn't help glancing in the opposite direction, toward his office. He knew the words
attorney
and
family law
were stenciled on the windows, but he couldn't see them through the smoke. He couldn't see anything on that side of the square. He could only pray those buildings weren't on fire too.

Two fire trucks—one a ladder truck—had parked between the burning structures and the courthouse. A rescue squad stood between the fire trucks and their EMS vehicle, not attempting to enter the building. How could they? Without a fire hose to calm the blaze, it would be suicide.

Flames crackled and poured from the windows at the top of the structures.

Interior walls groaned as they collapsed.

Smoke billowed in every direction.

From where he stood, Max could feel the heat. As the southern portion of the fire found additional fuel, it seemed to explode outward, causing the emergency workers in front of it to take a step back.

“How did it spread so quickly?” he muttered.

The power lines running from one end of the block to the other had snapped in places, their poles leaning toward the flames.

“How are we going to stop it?” Shelby pointed toward the east side, where the fire was beginning to spread. As they watched, a line of grass stretching from the north side of the square to the east caught fire. Just before it hit the wall of the county tax office, a young man in a cowboy hat ran toward it, beat at the flames with a blanket, and succeeded in putting it out.

In the center of the square, Danny Vail appeared to be directing volunteers. His face was covered with soot, his clothes dripping with sweat. As Max and Shelby hurried over to him, Max noticed the temperature around the square had to be ten degrees hotter than around his house.

“Shelby, we need more people on the bucket brigade!” yelled Danny.

“We have water?”

“The springs at the park. You'll have to backtrack a few blocks to get there.” Danny pointed in the direction they had come. “Go to the west at least two blocks before you turn back north.”

Shelby didn't wait for more instructions. She took off at a jog in the direction he'd indicated.

“Bucket brigade?” Max asked.

“Yeah. Jackson Young had the sense to open up his hardware store when the fire first started. We're using everything that can hold water.”

“I'll go—”

“We need you on the east side.”

“But the north side—”

“Is already gone. All we can do now is hope to keep it from spreading.” Danny pointed to a stack of blankets, no doubt also from Jackson's hardware store.

Max grabbed one and hurried past the fire trucks. The fire personnel were decked out in full gear—boots, helmets, coats and pants, gloves, and even hoods. Max heard one arguing with the fire chief, but Castillo wasn't budging. “I said no one goes in until we have this blaze under control.”

“But Cap—”

“They're already gone.” Castillo's voice hardened. “We can't save whoever was in there, but I will not lose more men on a fool's errand.”

By the time Max reached the east side, the fire was once again trying to cross the road. He could feel the heat of the pavement through his feet. He joined a line of men that he hadn't been able to see when they had first entered the square, and together they beat at the perimeter of the fire with their blankets, trying to smother the flames that sought new fuel. He didn't notice who stood to his right or left. Time slowed and eventually stopped altogether. Max focused all of his attention on his three feet of pavement, on doing his part to keep the blaze from consuming the heart of their town.

Each time he raised his arms, the blanket grew heavier. Castillo walked down the line, handing out bandanas wet with water from the springs. Max wiped his brow with the bandana, smelling the sulfur on it. He thought of the times he'd swum in the springs, certain that the sulfur water would ward off any mosquito or tick bites. It was something they had told themselves each summer. The water had been crystal clear and always cold—even on the hottest of days.

As he tied the bandana around his nose and mouth, he thanked the Lord for those springs and for the fact that they were situated only a quarter mile away from town.

He didn't realize Patrick had joined him on the line until his friend hollered, “You look like you need a break, Berkman.”

“I'm fine.”

“Sure about that?”

“I'm sure.”

At that moment they both stopped talking and stared at the row of burning buildings. Dense black smoke poured out of the bottom floor where doors and windows had been.

“It's curling,” Patrick muttered.

Castillo yelled, “Get back! Everyone back!”

Max heard the words
flashover
and
black fire
.

The firemen who had tried to get closer to the buildings now ran in the opposition direction. Moments later an explosion shattered the night.

T
WENTY
-E
IGHT

A
flash of heat enveloped them. Max felt it singe his eyebrows, his arms, even his neck. He instinctively raised his hands to cover his eyes and stumbled backward.

Finding no additional fuel, the fire pulled back as quickly as it had surged forward.

“I need EMS over here!” Castillo shouted as he ran forward and crouched next to one of his firefighters.

There was another swoosh of air, and the roof beams along the entire northern row of buildings collapsed. Everyone in Max's line stepped back even farther as the flames rose—hotter, higher, hungrier.

“Should we go help?” Patrick asked.

“All of the town's EMS workers are helping.”

They moved forward and once again began beating the fire back.

“Never thought I'd see a thing like this,” Patrick said.

“The bank is a total loss.”

“That whole side is.”

“If it weren't for these volunteers, we would have lost the entire square.”

With every few words, they both raised their blanket and slapped at more flames. It seemed that an endless procession of fire was intent on gaining ground in their direction. Max stopped worrying about Shelby and Carter and the future. In the intensity of the moment, the burden of all the things he couldn't control fell away and it was only him, his friends and neighbors, and the fire.

They worked as one, a fresh recruit taking the place of anyone who
backed away. The rhythm uninterrupted, the fire slowly conceding to their efforts.

How long had they been fighting? Max didn't realize they were winning the battle until Castillo brought in a new line of volunteers. “Everyone who has been working, you're relieved. I want you over at the springs cooling off and drinking water. The last thing we need is more injuries due to heat exhaustion or smoke inhalation.”

Max handed his blanket to the guy behind him, a twenty-year-old with acne and a bad haircut. “Thanks, man.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows, which had been singed in the flashover. His skin was red as if sunburned, and sweat ran in rivulets down his face. “Let's go find Shelby.”