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“What kind of alarms?” I asked.
A split second with the sound of fingers tapping on a keyboard. When the employee answered, his tone was a little more urgent. “It looks like the fire department has just been dispatched, sir.”
“What the hell?” I asked.
I didn’t wait for an answer and instead pulled up the security app that would show live feeds of all our cameras. While I logged in, I told the phone to call Karine, but it rang through to voicemail. I hissed out a few choice curse words, still trying to get into the app. When I finally logged in, I was dismayed to find most of the views from inside the house were completely black, as if the cameras were off. Or disabled somehow.
This was bad. My heart began to pick up its pace as I switched to the views from the cameras at the end of the driveway, and the rapid beat of my heart seemed to stop for a second.
Half the house was caved in, as if a giant had smashed his fist into it. The kitchen, garage, dining room, and most of the living area. Just, gone. Smoke billowed from behind the house, and flames licked at the remaining walls.
I stared blankly at the screen for half a second, willing it to be a mistake. For the camera views to flicker and return to normal.
Karine.She hadn’t answered her phone.
I slammed the car into gear again, tires screeching and the gears grinding as I tore out of the parking lot. Everything else was forgotten, but my ability to drive that car.
I had to get home and save Karine.
Chapter 18 - Karine
I came around with ringing in my ears and my whole body aching. The air around me reeked of smoke and dust, and everything seemed wreathed in moving shadows. The inside of my mouth felt like I’d been snacking on chalk, and I coughed when I tried to take in a big breath. Something weighed heavily on my back, and I couldn’t fill my lungs, making me panic.
From what seemed like a great distance, I heard a voice make its way past the insistent ringing. “Hold still, we’re trying to get you out. Don’t move.” A woman’s voice, competing with the annoying mosquito buzz and what sounded like rushing water.
“Damn, these panels are heavy,” another voice said.
“Solid oak,” someone answered him. “She’s probably alive because the contractor didn’t cheap out on fiberboard cabinets. Kept the ceiling beam from squashing her like a bug.”
A gloved hand swiped my dust-caked hair out of my eyes and patted a wet cloth across my eyes. Now I could make out the moving shadows as rescue workers. Paramedics and firefighters. Two men were hauling debris from all around me while the woman who’d helped me see better squatted beside me, patting my shoulder. Soon, the heavyweight was off my back and everyone started poking and prodding me.
“Can you feel this?”
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“Can you move your legs?”
I took stock, my mind still reeling. What in the hell had happened? While I was sore all over, no particular body part seemed to be screaming in agony. Now that whatever had been crushing me was gone and I could see, mostly hear, and breathe, I started to sit up.
Three sets of hands pushed me back down into the dust and debris, which I soon remembered was my house. I started to cry.
“Tell us what hurts,” one of the paramedics asked.
“My house is gone,” I answered.
“Ma’am, you’re lucky to be alive,” the woman admonished.
I wanted to tell them it wasn’t so much the house itself I was crying over; it was the beautiful memories that I’d been building with Roman. But she was right. I was lucky to be alive, and grateful that Roman hadn’t been at home. Craning my neck to better see the damage, I saw that firefighters were still directing their hose at some weak flames coming from what was left of the roof over the bedroom. I’d been in the kitchen and had the roof come down on me for some reason, but if he’d still been upstairs, he might have died from smoke inhalation.
I sat up again, swatting their hands away, then wiping the tears and grime from my cheeks. “I don’t think I’m really hurt,” I said. “What happened?”
They told me they didn’t know yet, and someone brought a stretcher over, insisting I go to the hospital. Dizzy and still having trouble breathing, I collapsed onto the gurney and stared at the blue sky and wispy clouds overhead as they loaded me onto the ambulance. I wanted Roman and tried to ask the guy who was attempting to hook me up to an IV if someone could call him.
“Just relax,” he said. “You’re going to be fine.”
I found the strength to sit up again. “I’m already fine. I want my husband.”
The poor paramedic stared at me like I’d risen from the dead, and I caught my reflection in the ambulance window. I looked like a mummy who’d been rolled in soot and dust and had a crusty old blonde wig slapped on its head. I coughed again, and the man offered me a bottle of water.
