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The air dried out in his lungs, making it hard to breathe.
No more training with Spirit.
No more nights with Sasha.
He forced his eyes open. No. He wasn’t going out like this.
He staggered to his feet, and pieces of the ceiling fell off his back. At least none of the debris was on fire. He turned his back to the flames and pushed slowly down the hall, shielding Spirit with his body. His throat was raw, and his skin felt like it was being flayed from his bones. His vision kept clouding over, and he couldn’t think straight anymore. All he could do was move. One foot in front of the other.
He had to get to the other end of the hall. He had to get outside.
The floor cracked beneath his feet, and flames kissed his ankles. He stumbled, then caught himself and started moving again. He could see the outline of the door through the smoke. All he had to do was get through it. Just a few more feet...
Something wet nudged his arm. He looked down at his girl. Spirit was struggling to keep her eyes open. When she gazed up at him with such love and trust, it felt like a punch to his gut. His tears evaporated off his face as they fell. Fire caught his sleeve, and he batted at it. The hallway tilted and he crashed into the wall.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of yellow—another person?
He tried to call out to them, but the smoke strangled him. The figure just stood there with the flames reflected in its dark bug eyes, watching. It was grinning. He couldn’t see its mouth under the—mask? Was it wearing a mask? But he knew it was smiling at him, enjoying his struggle.
No, it couldn’t be a real person. Nobody but him would be crazy enough to run into this fire. He was hallucinating, losing what was left of his fractured mind. He fought against the blackness that was dragging him under, no longer certain which way was up.
And Spirit had gone limp in his arms. He staggered and dropped to one knee. The door was too far away.
The fire was winning.
No!
With a burst of desperate adrenaline, he shoved to his feet and hurled himself through the door. The grass outside was wet and felt amazing on his burning skin. He lay there for a moment, head spinning as he sucked in lungfuls of air. It was still laced with smoke, but it was cleaner than what he had been breathing inside.
Pain pierced his side with each shallow inhale. He touched his ribs gingerly and felt a sticky warmth there. He winced. He didn’t know how bad it was but suspected he needed urgent medical attention sooner rather than later.
And Spirit still hadn’t moved.
Desperation clawed at his throat as he again tried to call out for help, but his voice was nothing more than a wheeze. He heard voices. Figures filled his hazy vision. Sirens echoed off the mountains in the distance, and hope fluttered within him as he closed his eyes.
He could let go now.
Help was on its way.
He drifted, caught somewhere between consciousness, and couldn’t help but think of Sasha. The way she’d felt under him in bed. The horror in her eyes when he finally took off that damn demon mask and she realized who she’d spent the night with. Her reaction had hurt, but he should’ve expected nothing less. He was the town pariah, after all. The delinquent from the way wrong side of the tracks. The suspected killer.
Forget that he’d lost all but the thinnest shred of sanity serving his country. Forget that he had poured his heart and soul into Redwood Coast Rescue since Zak handed him Spirit’s leash and recruited him to the new tactical K9 team.
This fucking town couldn’t let go of the troublemaking kid he’d been.
As the ambulance arrived and the paramedics rushed to his side, he heard a voice in the distance. A woman’s voice. He liked the sound of her saying his name.
“Donovan, can you hear me?” someone was asking him. Not the woman. He wanted her voice back. “We need to get you to the hospital. You’ve been badly burned.”
He nodded, but his head felt weirdly floaty like it wasn’t connected to his body. He drifted again. Opened his eyes sometime later to see the sterile white ceiling of an ambulance. Spirit was still nestled against his chest, licking his cheek. Her warmth and weight were a comfort.
And the woman’s voice was back, alternately soothing and snapping out orders. That was a comfort, too.
He closed his eyes again, feeling his heart rate slow as he floated away. In his dreams, he saw the figure in the flames staring at him. It wasn’t human. It was an omen, something ominous looming on the horizon…
Something that was going to change everything.
episode 3: the main suspect
