Page 99 of That Time I Kissed The Groomsman Grump
As it turns out, all I have to do to release the latch is depress the buttons at the top and the bottom at the same time. The door to LuLu’s cage pops open, and I suck in a breath of relief. Then I immediately choke it out. Smoke is leaking under the door now. The smoke detectors on the clinic side start to scream.
I’m running out of time.
As I scoop LuLu from her kennel, along with the blankets underneath her, her whole body trembles and quakes. Poor thing. “I’m shaking too, baby.” I rush out to the street and settle LuLu into the passenger seat of the Blue Whale. “It’s okay, sweet thing. You’re going to be okay.”
Then I shut her inside so she won’t spook and injure herself trying to run away.
As I turn back toward the clinic, the sky fills with thunderclouds. They’re rolling in fast and thick. I look up, expecting to see lightning. And that’s when the windows along the house shatter.
Smoke pours through the broken glass, black monstrous flumes, stretching up to meet the storm clouds. I know the fire’s being fed by the furniture. Overstuffed couches. Throw pillows. Afghans. Love seats. It’s all pure fuel. But as bad as that is, there are probably oxygen tanks in the exam room. Which is right by the kennels.
Which is worse.
Going back inside will be a risk. If I survive, my mom’s going to kill me. But I can’t leave Willa and Gator in there. If I don’t at least attempt to save them, I could never live with myself.
By the time I return to the side door, Gator and Willa are full-on howling. Between their cries and the smoke detectors, my eardrums are practically bursting.
Make a plan, Natalie. Think.
I can only afford to go back in one more time, so I’ll have to try to rescue them together. I should’ve done that in the first place. The extra leashes were hanging by the lockers the other night, but I can’t see anything past the hallway. The air’s too thick with smoke.
I could just open their kennels and chase them out of the clinic to run free. That would be safer than them suffocating. Or worse. But what if they run into the woods? Or into the street and a car comes by?
WHY AREN’T ANY CARS COMING BY?
The blood in my veins feels like hot lava and dry ice. I’m shivering and sweating at the same time. My bare feet are freezing. My insides are boiling. What is wrong with me?
Stop it, Nat. Get a hold of yourself. Willa and Gator are counting on you.
That’s when I hear sirens in the distance. Firetrucks. My knees want to buckle with relief. I’m ready to fall to the ground and surrender to those better equipped for emergencies. But there’s no time to waste. I can’t wait for help to arrive. So I close my eyes, cover my mouth, and plunge back inside toward the kennels. I’ve got one more chance. I have to get Willa and Gator out.
Now.
ChapterForty-Two
BRADY
When Ford’s truck flies around the last corner to the clinic, my heart feels like it’s about to combust. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it already had. Up ahead, I spy a rectangle of blue halfway down the block. The Slaters’ station wagon.
Natalie’s here.
The rest of the street is blocked by firetrucks, so Ford slows up, and I leap out before he comes to a stop. Then I take off at a sprint. Firefighters surround the property, yellow figures working in the smoke. Hoses. Ladders. Water arching in great streams. Half the building is engulfed in flames.
The house half.
Please let her be safe.
“NATALIE!” I scream. All the breath empties from my lungs.I’m running directly at the structure, pure adrenaline pumping through me.
“Hey!” a man shouts. “Get back!” He’s in uniform, and I don’t slow down to see who it is. Ignoring his order, I charge past him. The side door to the clinic is wide open. A gaping mouth. Black like death.
Dark clouds clog the sky now. Great towers of gray mixing with the smoke. “NAT!” I yell again. But there’s too much noise. Shouts. Water. Flames. Fire is loud.
Louder than my fear.
Craning my neck, I try to see something through the haze. My torso is nothing but a cave and a sledgehammer. I’m about to charge inside, when someone grabs my forearm.
Ford.
