Page 18 of Burn Point

I slipped off my ballcap and thumped it against my leg in frustration. That anyone could focus on the annual charity calendar during this tragedy was beyond me.

“We were thinking of changing the theme this year to be centered around the tornado damage. Do you think we could do some shots in the areas that were affected the worst?”

Unease rolled through me. “So you’re telling me you want to use images of people’s destroyed lives as a fundraiser for public safety?”

“Not exactly the way you put it, but I take it you don’t like that idea, overall?”

“Fuck no. That’s ridiculous and I won’t be a part of anything making a dime off someone else’s misfortune. I can’t believe you even suggested that.”

“Calm down, Nathaniel. It was just a thought.”

I slapped my hat back on and ground my teeth at her calling me by my full name. We’d dated a time or two and apparently that gave her permission to condescend.

She continued, “The organizational committee was just tossing ideas out since the photoshoot got canceled.”

Captain Collins rounded the front of the fire engine, sticking his ever-present toothpick into his mouth. The guy was never without one since he’d given up smoking. He raised his eyebrows at me, my sign that I needed to get off the phone.

“I gotta go.” I clicked off the call, not waiting for her response. Rude, yes. But I was so frustrated that I didn’t give a damn.

Captain rolled his toothpick to the corner of his mouth and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I need a team to go set up a first aid station near Lagrange. You mind taking that?”

“I’ll be glad to.” I paused for a beat, considering the location, then added, “You mind if I run a detail while I’m in that area?”

Maybe me and a couple of the guys could search Jordan’s house for some stuff. I’d had every intention of taking her over there, since technically it wasn’t my day to be on-shift, but our team had been called in to headquarters to work the field units scattered in the neighborhoods since the big trucks and ambulances couldn’t yet navigate the streets.

“Do what you gotta do, just be around if some fool falls off a ladder.”

I grabbed Thoren, and we jumped in the UTV and drove the two miles to Jordan’s neighborhood. What used to be idyllic southern homes were now covered by debris. The massive hardwoods that had fallen obscured the homes from view, and many trees lay on top of battered roofs. Large root balls, some twelve feet tall or more, created a dirt wall against the onlookers out trying to assess the damage. Day three and our progress was still impeded by people on foot, looking to find loved ones and help in any way they could.

“We gotta make a quick stop,” I told Thoren, pulling up to the pile of debris that used to be Jordan’s house. The exterior walls were partially standing, the windows were all blown out, the roof was gone, and a massive tree lay over one end of the house, taking up space all the way to the bathroom where I’d found her. A green couch sat untouched against an interior wall, a rustic table stood alone in the center of a room that had been a kitchen. The two pieces of furniture were a sad contrast to the chaos of the rest of the structure.

“What are we doing here?” Thoren asked, casting a skeptical look at the house. “It’s marked as searched.”

“I helped the woman who lives here the other night. She was the one I carried to the truck when you asked me about the blood. Ran into her again. She’s on her own and doesn’t have her cell or her wallet. Thought I might try to see if I could find it for her.” I didn’t mention that I’d left said woman asleep in my spare bedroom this morning.

“In that mess? Bro, that’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.” He shook his head but climbed out anyway, and we—carefully—headed into the house.

A bit later, Thoren stood up triumphantly from what remained of the bathroom holding a battered phone in his hand and yelled, “Score!”

I’d already found a purse with her wallet in it, wedged under the couch. It was yet another miracle that the place hadn’t been looted. The TV even lay on the floor and looked undamaged. I dug around a little more but didn’t see a laptop cord. I’d just have to take her to get another one.

“Should we try to get some of her clothes?” I asked, picking my way back toward Thoren.

“Dude, we’re lucky we found this.”

I stood on a mound of sheet rock, surveying the room. “I know. I just feel terrible for her. Can you imagine losing everything you own? I just want to do something to try to give her some of her old life back.”

Thoren sighed in exasperation but got back to work. “Why’s she so important to you?”

I picked my way to a bedroom littered with piles of insulation. “I don’t know. I’m just trying to help her out. You do the same thing every day we are on shift.”

I turned away from him so he couldn’t read what I wasn’t saying. That this woman was under my skin.

A picture frame lay face down by the bed. Broken glass fell away as I turned it over. I shook the remains away to find an image of a man and a teenage Jordan standing in front of a waterfall. His arm slung over her shoulders, both of them wearing hiking gear, smiling happily at the camera.

My chest grew tight with emotion. “This is why I’m here, Thoren.”

I flipped the photo over to show him.

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