Page 59 of Fire Harbor

While Brent cleared the people back from the pier, Linus motioned to Colt, “We need to shut off the emergency valve to the fuel dock. Otherwise, it could go up any minute.”

Colt held up a hand. “I’ll do it. You stay here and keep the water coming.”

But as Colt took off, Linus saw Daniel Cardiff appear from the alleyway behind Vanilla Bean Machine, hustling toward him and pulling a water hose.

While others ran toward safety, Linus met Daniel midway to help move the hose closer to the worst of the flames. The two men stood firm as the heat intensified, and the fire slapped at anything within its reach.

“One of your boats?” Linus shouted.

“Not yet,” Daniel yelled back. “Mine’s moored on the south side of the harbor. Most of the flames are in the middle. The wind must be pushing twenty knots, though.”

“Surface wind is picking up,” Linus decided. “Feel it?”

“I do now,” Daniel said.

The distant wail of sirens grew louder until several fire trucks screeched to a halt in front of the pier. Firefighters in heavy gear established an attack line, stretching their pre-connected handline from the onboard tank to reach the flames. A third engine moved in a crane and laid a supply line from the nearest hydrant for an ongoing water supply. Together they began pouring massive amounts of water on top of the raging inferno as steam rose up where water met fire.

The combined efforts began to make a dent. Minutes felt like hours as firefighters relentlessly battled the flames until finally, the last flicker of fire was extinguished. The once vibrant harbor was now a smoldering black sea of burned-out boats. The strong odor of burnt fuel and melting plastic hung in the air, colliding with the salty tang of the ocean.

Firemen began pulling out survivors with their clothing burned off or their clothes dripping with oil, some with severe burns, each struggling for air.

Behind him, Linus heard his name. He wheeled around to see Lake rushing toward him. When she wrapped her arms around his waist, he let her head fall onto his chest and realized she was his lifeline.

Linus held her tight, her body trembling with the force of held-back sobs. The weight of the day’s events settled heavily on his shoulders. The devastation was palpable, the loss of livelihoods and memories etched in the charred remains before them.

“I was so worried,” Lake whispered, her voice muffled against his shirt. Linus kissed her forehead, breathing in the scent of her hair. “We could see the smoke getting worse from the diner. I would’ve been here sooner, but Eastlyn kept us back, away from the pier.”

“It's a good thing she did. The entire pier could’ve gone up in smoke.” When he realized she was still shaking, his fingers gently combed through her hair as he murmured, “It’ll be okay now. Everything can be replaced.”

“Did anyone…was anyone killed?” Lake asked.

Linus swallowed hard. “I heard Matt O’Malley was one of the first.”

The O’Malley’s were a father-and-son commercial fishing outfit that had been in business for three decades.

“Oh, no. Does Dave know?”

“Not yet. Firefighters pulled Dave out of the water, unconscious, and got him to the first aid station we set up. By now, maybe Gideon or Quentin have talked to him.”

“That’s so sad. Those two have been fishing together for ten years or more. They just now turned their business around after the salmon dried up last year, and Dave decided to switch from catching salmon to harvesting shrimp.”

“I know. It’s heartbreaking. But there are three other fishermen—Ossie Payton, Darren Jones, and Van Nguyen—who have lost not only their livelihood but also their homes. Those guys lived on their boats.”

“It’s a miracle they weren’t killed. How did this happen, Linus? Were the explosions accidents or deliberate?”

“No one knows yet. But I heard the fire chief talking about it. He’s leaning toward arson. Four boats up in flames at the same time—it’s likely deliberate.”

As they stood together, arms locked around each other, they looked out on the charred remains of the harbor. The firefighters hustled to contain the spilled oil that hadn’t burned off and corral the debris to keep from polluting the water even further. The once picturesque harbor now lay in ruins, a stark reminder of the destructive power that had swept through it.

When Lake finally pulled back, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I don’t know how we’ll recover from this,” she uttered, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

Linus gazed out at the destruction; his jaw clenched in determination. “The boats are replaceable,” he said, his tone unwavering despite the turmoil churning inside him. “Together as a town, we’ll find a way to come back. The folks here don’t quit. They help each other.”

Lake offered him a small, watery smile, her hand reaching out to link with his. Amidst the wreckage and ruin, a silent vow passed between them—a promise to rise from the ashes stronger than before.

As they turned to face each other, Quentin Blackwood called his name. “Linus, we need an extra pair of hands over at the first aid station.”

“Headed there now,” Linus responded. He turned back to Lake and took her shoulders. “Fixing my back door pales in comparison to this.”

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