Page 19 of Burn Point

“Jordan had a life before this storm hit, and now she has nothing. If I can help bring her some measure of peace, just by spending some time picking through debris, it’s not going to cost me anything. I’d like to think someone would take care of me if I ever needed it.”

Thoren studied the photo, then me. “Okay, I get it.”

We dug around a little more until I unearthed a basket of soaked laundry. “Let’s take that and those shoes. That should get her by for a bit.”

Nodding, he tossed a pair of sneakers into the basket. I slipped the photo and phone into her purse, and we picked our way back to the UTV.

“You got a way to get in touch with her?” he asked as he drove back to our post, whipping around a pile of brush, almost tipping us on two wheels.

“You know, you’re a shit driver. And yeah, I’ll see her tonight.” I grabbed the oh-shit handle as he made a turn and sped into the empty parking spaces around the high school that served as an emergency vehicle lane. “She’s staying at my house until a room opens up.”

Thoren braked hard enough to pitch me forward.

“Say what?”

“Damn, don’t kill me with your fool driving. I said she’s staying with me until a room opens up.” I tugged off my baseball cap and scrubbed my hand over my hair before resetting my cap. I looked over to find him gaping at me.

“What?” I asked.

Thoren and I had worked together for years, but we were also friends outside of work. We often worked out together, went for beers, took part in the annual calendar fundraiser together.

He turned wide eyes to me. “Nothing, I’m just surprised. This is totally not like you.”

I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. She just needs a place to sleep. I have an empty guest room.”

His expression changed, turning sly. “Is she pretty?”

“Just stop right there. It’s not like that at all. This is just a temporary thing.” I said, but from the looks of it, his imagination was running wild. I needed to stop his train of thought.

Tones for our station rang over our portable radios, interrupting us, though the sound was almost muted by the buzz of chainsaws. An elderly man having a possible heart attack. We jumped back into the UTV and Thoren zipped us back through town.

We pulled up to find the patient lying in the bed of his pickup. A young woman sat beside him, clutching his hand, wiping his pale brow.

I grabbed our jump bag from the UTV, knowing my supplies were running low, hoping an ambulance could make it through in time. Climbing up into the bed of the truck with him, I eased her out of the way, and Thoren and I got to work.

After an initial assessment, I looked at Thoren. “How far out is that bus?”

He requested an ETA, and our gazes locked at the delayed response time. Time the man didn’t have. He needed immediate care.

“What are you thinking?” Thoren kept his voice low and calm. We’re gonna lose him if we don’t act fast, his gaze seemed to say.

Not today.

I dug through my bag and found two bags of saline. “We’re gonna start an IV and bolus fluids until they get here.”

We doctored him as best we could on scene until an ambulance could get to him, and hopefully it was enough. By then, thankfully, it was time to head back to the station.

I gathered my things and made sure all my gear was ready for my next full shift. Fatigue kicked my butt as I headed home, every minute of the last few days weighed on me, but I was oddly excited to not be going home to an empty house.

My ranch-style brick house on the north end of town was far enough out to have to drive to work, but close enough that trips to town didn’t take all day. I had a couple of acres of grass that I enjoyed cutting, a large, detached garage where I could do woodworking, and a giant deck that looked out over the woods behind the house. It wasn’t fancy, but it was home. Relief settled into my bones as I pushed open the front door.

My entryway was unrecognizable. The pile of boots and shoes by the front door had been tidied, the mat they sat on had been cleared of dirt and grass clippings. The wood floor gleamed. The blinds were all open and the late evening sun cast the room in warm sunlight.

The scent of garlic coming from the kitchen had my stomach growling in an instant.

“Hey!” I called out, propping Jordan’s basket on a hip while I dropped my backpack from my shoulder to the bench beside the shoe bin. The hats that hung on the rack had been straightened, the mirror above the rack shone bright and clean.

“Hey yourself! I hope you’re hungry,” she called back.

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