Linda Kay Silva - Delta Stevens 3 - Weathering the Storm (28 page)

Flattening herself against the house, Delta held her breath. One of the figures, a man with a foreign accent, was gesticulating wildly while the other two—the thin man and Rubin—tried to calm him down.

Crouching behind a bush, Delta looked up and realized she was next to an open window. She guessed it was probably the kitchen. Slowly raising up, she slipped her fingers against the window and opened it a little more before sliding back down behind the bush. From somewhere inside, she could hear the television booming loudly. She guessed there were four, maybe five men. If three of them were outside, at least one, maybe two would be inside. Checking the house out from her concealed position, Delta cursed when she discovered that it was a two-story house.

Gazing back down at her watch, Delta sighed. It was pretty clear no unit would be showing up. For whatever reason, she was on her own here. She’d be flying solo. She’d have to rely on her own best judgment. She lived for these kinds of choices. This was the razor’s edge she had spent her career balancing on. At times like these her fate rested on her own shoulders. This was what pumped her up and gave her a natural high.
This
was why she so loved the streets and their dangers.

One slip and it would be over for her and any children inside. One wrong move might sentence herself and others to death.

Inching closer, Delta listened to the heated conversation among the three men.

“I told you he was stupid enough to be dangerous.”

“It’s not a problem, man. Relax.”

“Relax?” the thin man said. The feds are all over town, that bitch cop must have done something to Martinez and Dice, and we got a bunch a kids we gotta waste. Man, this has really gone sour. I say we bail.”

“Bail?” Rubin’s calm voice said evenly. “We’ve only delivered half of what the man ordered.”

“So what? I’m not about to go to jail for some screw-loose dude, even if he is rich.”

“What about the brats?”

“Leave them.”

“No way! We busted our asses to get those Indian pups. Now you’re telling me we aren’t going to use ’em?”

The thin man raised his voice. “I don’t give a shit what the man wants! I’m not spending time behind bars for him or nobody else. I been there, man, and I ain’t going back.”

A fourth man joined them. “Cool it, will you? I just talked with Poppy and he agrees we gotta jet. He’s got another line on a real high roller in ’Frisco and he wants us to lay low while he makes the arrangements.”

“So what are we supposed to do with the kids while we’re laying low?”

“Poppy says he wants everything destroyed. He wants us to gut this whole house and everything in it. He thinks bringing the brats along is too risky, so they’re staying here. Able is drugging the kids right now. We’ll leave them here. Kirk, come help me detonate this place.”

Delta had heard enough. The razor’s edge just got sharper and she knew that the fate of the children rested on her next decision—a decision that could mean the end of her career, if not her life. But then, weren’t the two synonymous?

Slowly standing, Delta peeked in the window and saw two men hurrying about, placing explosives and gasoline-soaked rags all about the house. Running through a mental list of choices she had, Delta looked around before sprinting in between houses to the house next door.

“Who’s there?” A gruff voice asked after Delta pressed the doorbell. “The police,” Delta pushed out in a loud whisper. “I need to use your phone.”

“Oh yeah? How do I know it’s really the police?”

“Look through the hole. I’ll show you my badge.” Delta waited, feeling her heart banging.

“People make fake badges all the time, you know.”

Frustrated and losing time she couldn’t afford to waste, Delta pulled her gun from her holster and pointed it at the peephole. “That may be true, sir, but does this look fake to you? This is an emergency. Open the damn door before I blow it off its hinges and arrest you for obstructing justice.”

In a blink, the door was open and Delta rushed past the man. “I need your phone.”

“Over there,” he grunted, following her into the kitchen. “What’s going on?” Picking the phone up, Delta rang Connie’s desk. She picked it up on half a ring.

“Where the hell are you?” Connie asked as soon as she picked up the phone. “We’ve been looking all over the place for you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Listen, the perps are at 683 West Tennyson and they’re getting ready to bust out of there. They’re going to blow the house up.”

“West Tennyson? Are you sure? Carducci said you headed east. We’ve got units all over the place down there.”

“Well, send them west. Send firetrucks and paramedics also. There’s a number of children who’ve been—” before Delta could finish, she heard a huge explosion followed by a secondary explosion."

“Del? What the hell—”

“I gotta go, Con. Get those cars here ASAP!” Dropping the phone, Delta rushed out the door.

In the violet of the night, the house next door was ablaze with orange and glowing yellows from the garage and the kitchen windows. Black smoke twisted menacingly up to become one with the darkness as the flames greedily licked at the shingles on the roof. The van was gone and Delta couldn’t remember if she had mentioned it to Connie or not.

“Lord, help me,” Delta uttered as she ran to the fiery house. The heat from the garage made it impossible to approach from the front so Delta scooted to the back of the house to check there.

After trying one locked door, Delta realized she was wasting lifesaving seconds looking for an easy way in. Picking up a piece of firewood, and noting the irony, Delta tossed it through the window. Immediately, a whoosh of hot air hit her in the face so hard, it felt like it singed her eyebrows.

Inhaling deeply, Delta zipped up her bomber jacket and tried to ignore the fear clawing at her courage. Then, as if an afterthought, Delta jammed her weapon back in her ankle holster.

“You’ve got to go in, Storm,” Delta said to herself as she felt the searing heat bow out the window. From outside, she could see the flames devouring curtains in the family room. Like a living tornado, the flames jumped from one piece of furniture to another, engulfing everything in its path.

Inhaling one more time, Delta picked up another piece of firewood and knocked the remaining glass away before climbing through it and into the orange inferno.

Inside, the heat was stifling. Besides the curtains and furniture, the rug was on fire and things not yet been touched by the fiery tentacles were beginning to melt. Running into the kitchen, Delta wet a towel and wrapped it around her head like a turban. As she turned toward the animated flames, her anxiety grabbed her, immobilizing her for a moment. Thoughts of what the angry fire could do to her burned her mind like a glowing brand. When she was a child sick with fever, she had had nightmares about burning alive. She would wake up drenched with sweat and kicking at the covers. Those nightmares had seemed so vivid and real. And now, those nightmares had sprung to life.

Then, as suddenly as they came, the nightmare images flowed from her mind only to be replaced by her second greatest nightmare: A child with blonde hair was on the floor of a carnival ride with her dead eyes staring up at the heavens. It was an image that had haunted her more than any other in her adult life.

“Come on, Storm. This is your big chance.” Taking another step toward the fire, Delta pulled her shirt up around her nose and prepared to take the stairs. “Come on, Con, don’t let me down now.” Delta inhaled, held her breath, and ran through the three-foot wall of flames blocking the stairs. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, and oblivious to her burning pant leg and the fiery fingers caressing her ankles, Delta wondered if she should have left her gun outside.

As she reached the top of the steps, she rolled and slapped at the fire burning her jeans.

She yelped when she looked down at her singed jacket and her already-starting-to-soften tennis shoes. It was far hotter inside than she had imagined.

On her feet again, Delta watched the fire creeping up the bannister as it reached toward the ceiling. It would be only minutes before the fire would consume the house and everything in it. The heat was already unbearable, and the blue-gray smoke filled the upper half of the house like a demonic genie.

Her eyes watering and stinging from the smoke, Delta wiped them with the edge of her now nearly-dried towel. “Hello? Can anyone hear me?” Delta felt the first closed door she came to. It was scorching to the touch. “Hello?” she yelled, coughing as soon as she inhaled a lung full of smoke. “I won’t hurt you! I’m here to help!” Kicking the hot door in, Delta saw nothing but a column of flames. “Where are you?” Holding her forearm above her forehead, she peered inside at the burning room and knew, if anyone was in there, they were dead.

Approaching the second door, Delta felt it as well. It was warm, but not as hot as the one before. Kicking it in, she found two children about five years old on the burning bed. Both boys were dark-skinned with black hair, and they were wearing jeans and white t-shirts. The fire was only four feet from their heads, and already, Delta could see heat blisters on their arms.

“God, no,” Delta said as she ran over to the bed and tore both children from it. Their bodies hung like limp sacks of corn meal as their arms flopped over her shoulders. Immediately, the bed burst into flames and the room instantly became an inferno.

Sliding open the door to a short balcony, Delta set the boys against the railing and ran back in. The fire, like an oil spill, spread rapidly through the house as if chasing her.

Moving past the bathroom, which was the only open door upstairs, Delta peeked at the balcony and knew she had less than a minute before the heat became unbearable and she would have to leave any children she had not yet found.

Coming to the third and final door, Delta didn’t need to feel it to know the fire raged on the other side. Nonetheless, she smashed the door open and was immediately thrown backward by a large whooshing force that blew out of the room and knocked her across the hall.

“Shit, shit shit!” Delta yelled, rolling over and beating at the fire on her jeans. The arm she slapped with was also covered in flames and she managed to put it out by using the towel from her head. Surveying her clothes, Delta reached up and felt her face. From what she could tell, her eyebrows were gone and she suffered some kind of burn on her cheek.

Knowing she could not enter that room and that anyone in there would be dead, Delta decided to try the closets in the two rooms she did have access to. The first closet had telltale signs of arson, as rags, turpentine, and other flammable containers were strewn carelessly about. When Delta opened the second closet, she almost missed the little girl who must have managed to crawl into a corner before the full affect of the drugs took place. Delta knelt down and cradled the girl in her arms. The girl’s eyelashes fluttered for just an instant, as if she was still trying to fight off the drugs.

“Hang in there, baby,” Delta whispered, setting the girl on the balcony with the boys. Peering through the night, she wondered where the guys were; her hopes bolstered slightly by the distant sound of fire engines.

Turning back into the house, Delta was face-to-face with a wall of flames. Inhaling her last clean breath of air, she plunged through the flames and stepped into the bathroom to check it out.

At first, she saw nothing. Then, her gaze traveled over the bathtub, and Delta saw her. All she saw was black, tangled hair until she peered through the smoke and saw that the little bundle in the bathtub was another child. Without hesitating, Delta pulled her from the tub and set her on the balcony with the others.

Delta knew she would not be able to reenter the house. She had a short time before the entire house would be a huge bonfire. She had no choice but to drop the kids into the bushes below and hope the branches broke the fall—and nothing else. Hell, kids could recover from broken bones, but fire? That was another story.

Delta couldn’t see the hedges very clearly, but it appeared as if all but one of the kids could safely land on them. She would have to take one of the kids with her.

Grabbing the littlest girl by her wrists, Delta swung her back and forth, gaining enough momentum to swing her out and over the hedges. When she was almost perpendicular to Delta, she let her go and watched as her lifeless body turned half a turn and landed in the middle of the hedges. To Delta’s surprise, they supported the girl’s weight.

She did the same with the two boys, but as the last boy crunched into the hedges, the balcony started to give way and Delta barely managed to get back inside with the little girl from the bathroom before the gutter came crashing down.

Hearing sirens in the distance gave Delta the renewed courage she needed to make her way through her adversary. She was not alone. If only she could beat the flames below. If only she were a little faster. If only...

Delta stopped herself. She had faced her own death once this week, and survived. Now, she was responsible for the life of a little girl, if there was still life. There wasn’t time to see if the little girl was dead or alive; the heat was so unbearably hot and the smoke so thick and intense, Delta knew she had only seconds before both overtook her.

Opening her jacket up, Delta wrapped the immobile child close to her. Like a ragdoll, her little legs hung from underneath Delta’s leather jacket.