Linda Kay Silva - Delta Stevens 3 - Weathering the Storm (29 page)

“I got you, honey,” Delta whispered as she zipped the jacket halfway up. From the top of the stairs, Delta could barely see through the haze of smoke scratching the back of her throat and nostrils. But she could see enough to know that all of her escape routes were choked off by the seven-foot wall of flames tickling the ceiling. One look down the stairs told her that the entire lower level was an inescapable inferno. Every piece of furniture was being consumed by the ravenous flames; the walls were now three-dimensional with flames moving and dancing on them as if they were alive. The fiery whips controlled everything, and Delta knew if they were going to make it out alive, they would have to go through them.

Taking the girl back to the bathroom and coughing so hard she thought a lung was coming up, Delta stepped into the shower and soaked both of them before resoaking the towel and wrapping it around her own head and face. Then, she moved to the top of the steps once more and stared down at the growing wall of flames. Her eyes burned from the smoke, and her lungs heaved in and out trying to pull fresh air through the towel. If the fire was a thing of its own design, then the heat it exuded was unlike anything Delta had ever faced. It was an invisible barrier pushing her backwards. The flames, alive as they stretched and reached for her at the top of the stairs, dared her to try to get past them. Suddenly, in a wild flash of panic, Delta understood why she had been so afraid of fire as a child. Fire was an enemy that carried with it a wide range of arsenal. As it raged about devouring everything it touched, it sent out heat and smoke to melt and penetrate those yet untouched by the flaming arms. It was as alive as any suspect she had ever taken down, except that it had no conscious; it didn’t care that a little girl’s life was at stake. She could not reason with this enemy.

“Not this time,” Delta growled through tears that ran down her burning eyes. This time, she would not fail.

Tucking the little girl deeper inside her jacket, Delta glanced down at her melting tennis shoes. Her face, her hands, her entire body felt as though she were inside an oven. Frantically searching for the best route, Delta noticed the large plate glass window next to the front door. The front door was encased in flames, and Delta knew from experience, that the knob would melt her palm if she even touched it.

Glancing quickly around, it became clear to her that the only way out was through the window. If she could gather enough steam behind her, she could make it through that window, the fire be damned.

“This is it,” she said, inhaling one last time, and feeling the burn in her lungs. This was the sharpest point of the razor’s edge and if she was wrong, she would never dance on it again. As she prepared for one final charge down the stairs, her final thoughts were of Megan and Connie and all of the things she hadn’t done with her life.

“I’m sorry, Megan,” Delta whispered, zipping her jacket up all the way. Whether she would live to admit it or not, Delta had chosen her badge. The key, she realized, had probably already sunk. “Damn it.” And with that, Delta bolted down the flaming stairs two steps at a time.

All around her, the flames voraciously grabbed at her as she forced her way through the hellfire and suffocating heat. Like a science-fiction movie, the invisible shield of heat tried to push her back up the stairs and into the arms of the eagerly awaiting flames. Like a strong headwind, it pushed against her.

Nearing the bottom of the stairs, Delta knew she needed enough momentum to propel herself—and the child—through the thick glass, or else she stood a good chance of breaking her neck or shoulder. With one step to go, Delta used every fiber in every muscle to hurl herself toward the window. In a leap that defied the law of gravity, Delta jumped headfirst toward the window, rolling slightly in the air and allowing her shoulder to take the brunt of the powerful impact. As her shoulder and head collided with the glass, the heat, which followed so closely behind her, violently shoved her through the window and continued to harass her as she landed with a heavy thud on the ground below.

“Put those flames out!” Someone called from what seemed to Delta to be another planet.

Suddenly, someone was beating her and trying to roll her over. The heat, the flames, must have followed her, and like leeches, stubbornly clung to her jacket and jeans.

“Roll her over, damn it! Her back is on fire!”

Someone kept trying to move her, but Delta reached a burnt hand out and managed to knock them away from her. Whether she was fighting the fire or the hands that grabbed at her, she did not know. Nothing was clear to her now, except the burning of her clothes and her lungs gagging from smoke inhalation.

“She won’t let go!”

One arm held the bundle under her jacket, while the other flapped around, hitting, pushing, slapping anything and anybody who came near. To Delta’s ringing head, buzzing ears, and aching body, the fire was now personified and was eating away at her.

“Hey, what’s she got in that jacket?” Someone else asked. The words were slow and laborious, and very distorted. She knew she was ready to visit the Land of the Unconscious, and struggled to keep some sense of what was happening to her.

“Shit, Chief, I think it’s a kid!”

“A what?”

Through clenched and watery eyes, Delta saw the black edges of unconsciousness silently overtake her.

“A kid. She’s holding a kid.”

“Well, get it away from her! Hey! Move that hose to the other side!”

With grays turning to black, Delta knew she was about to succumb entirely to the throbbing of the impact. If only she could pry her swollen eyes open and see what was happening; but the smoke, the heat, the intense pain made everything an incredible blur. Suddenly, her body was no longer solid or tangible to her. She was floating on a cloud, aware that she was about to become lost in another world. The noises about her melded together and almost sounded like soft melodies. She had even relinquished whatever it was she had been holding onto. Funny...she couldn’t remember....

“...on his way.”

“...Get that stretcher over here, now! I swear to God, you people are moving in slow motion tonight!”

“...gasoline, sir...”

“...explosives...”

“...and she’s alive as well...” As the last vestiges of her consciousness faded away, Delta strained

to hear the one person she knew could penetrate through her foggy haze. It was no surprise when she finally heard that voice ring through the cacaphony of blurred sounds tripping violently through her head.

“Storm, it’s me. You hold on, you hear me? You just hold the fuck on.”

“Con?” Delta choked out, before immediately giving in to a coughing spasm. Her chest felt as if a thick, steel band surrounded it, and squeezed every time she tried to breath.

“Shh, Storm, don’t talk. The paramedics need to check you out. You’ve got to stop fighting them, okay?”

If Delta answered, she wasn’t aware of it. All she could feel was her body being lifted and something wet flowing over her face. And as the paramedics worked over her, Delta wondered how much longer it would be before she stopped fighting and just let herself fade to black. It reminded her of not wanting to throw up—fighting to keep the vomit from coming up. Maybe she was afraid to let go. Maybe if she did, she would never wake up. Maybe her arms and legs had burnt off or were cut to shreds. Maybe she could hear the fire laughing at her as she was overcome with increasing pain.

Maybe...

Maybe it was no coincidence that the only image in her mind’s eye was that of a golden key sitting at the bottom of an ocean.

And just as she was losing the battle to stay awake, Delta heard one more voice close to her ear. It was not the one she had expected.

“Delta? It’s me, Carducci. Oh, man, say something.”

Swallowing the dry sandy desert her throat had become, Delta reached for the last words she could speak before letting the black unconsciousness sweep her away: “It was west, you dumbass. West.”

Trying to open her eyes, Delta thought they had been glued shut. Every muscle in her body ached and her face felt puffy and swollen. For a minute, she had forgotten what had brought her here. Then, as her memory cleared and her mind fought off the remnants of drugs, she remembered fighting her way through the inferno with a little girl in tow.

A little girl?

It was all coming back to her now: the porno ring, Dice’s maniacal grin, the kidnappings, the red Camaro, the burning house that threatened her life even more than Zuckerman had.

“She’s waking up,” came Connie’s voice softly. Hadn’t Connie been there when Delta catapulted through the window? Didn’t somebody push or pull her through the fire? The events were a jumbled blur through her throbbing head, and she knew it was useless to try to put them together just now.

Now. What time was now? How long had she been in that hospital room sleeping under painkillers and watchful eyes of nurses? Time, space, sequence, were all out of whack for her. The only comfort was the fact that Connie was near. Near enough, in fact, to be holding Delta’s hand.

“Del, sweetheart, it’s Megan. Can you hear me?”

The words sounded like they were being spoken through a cardboard tube. Swallowing the one tiny drop of saliva she could muster, Delta opted for nodding until she could find her voice. Inhaling slowly, she felt the pain in her chest from inhaling hot air and poisonous smoke.

“You’re in the hospital and you’re going to be okay. Do you understand?”

Why was Megan talking to her like she was an idiot, Delta wondered? Her eyes were closed and her body ached, but she wasn’t a moron. Nodding, Delta worked on lubricating her parched throat.

“Are you in any pain, honey? Can I get you anything?”

It was so good to hear Megan’s voice, worried and scared as it was. She wondered how long Megan had been in the hospital; how long had she sat there waiting for Delta to come to?

“Wa-ter?” Delta forced out. Then, she could hear Megan pouring some in a plastic cup before guiding it to Delta’s hand.

Sipping the cool, comforting water, Delta rested her head on her pillow and sighed. The water calmed the aching, scratching sensation she’d felt since waking up.

“Anything else?”

Delta nodded. “The little...kids,” she rasped, her throat feeling like someone had rammed a flaming sword down it. “They’re fine, sweetheart. You saved their lives.”

“All?”

“Yes, my love, all.”

Nodding, Delta raised her head and tried again to pry her eyes open. At first, everything was blurry, and the glare from the flourescent lights reflecting off of the harsh hospital walls hurt her already painful eyes. Somehow, the pain faded when she looked at the faces of the two most important women in her world sitting on opposite sides of her bed, both looking like they hadn’t slept in weeks—neither, she knew, would have been willing to leave her bedside.

As Delta focused on Megan’s tender eyes, she closed her own and sighed. “I lied,” Delta said, opening her eyes and gently pulling Megan to her. The voice was not her own. It was harsh and husky, like that of someone who had been smoking for fifty years. Even those two simple words burned. “I said I’d be right back. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Delta.” Tenderly wrapping her arms around Delta, Megan buried her face in Delta’s neck. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my love.”

Stroking Megan’s hair with one bandaged hand, Delta glanced over at Connie, who forced a grin. Connie looked more scared than Delta had ever seen her. Had she been that close to death?

“I...” reaching for the cup of water, Delta sipped it before continuing. “I scared you and left you at Harry’s. I’m sorry.”

Raising her head so she was nose-to-nose with Delta, Megan sniffed back her tears. Years of love and laughter flowed between them like the fluid flowing through the IV into Delta’s arm. “You always scare me, silly. If you apologized every time you did it, that’s all you’d ever have time to say.”

Delta grinned. It made her head pound more. “Yeah, but this time I cut it a little too close.”

Megan nodded. “Yes, you did.”

Reaching her free hand over to Connie, Delta took Connie’s hand in her own and gazed for a long time into the quiet brown eyes staring down at her. She had scared Connie, too.

“I’m okay, Chief,” Delta said, gently squeezing with her gauzed hand.

“Yeah? Well, a few hours ago, you came too close to looking like a crispy critter.”

Delta nodded. “I don’t think I ever want to be that hot again.”

“I’ll second that.”

“I’m okay, Con.”

“Well, Storm, okay seems to be your trademark these days.” Taking Delta’s wrapped hand between both of hers, Connie held it like one would a baby bird. “If you were bucking for hero status, you’re there.”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind.”

Connie grinned. “I know. How are you really feeling?”

Throat and eyes burning, muscles aching, head throbbing, and hands scorched, Delta had never felt worse. “Like a half-cooked shishkebob.” Running her hand through Megan’s silky hair, Delta suddenly noticed the bandage covering her right hand and immediately felt her face and head and found more gauze. “The real question is, how am I
really
?”