Page 59 of Ashes of the Past
I nod, though I’m not really convinced.
Keep imagining him racing out of the barn on a horse or something crazy like that. Visualize it.
I continuously tell myself that he’s okay, but the longer they take inside, the more fear grips my heart.
Where in the hell is Jack?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jack
Icome to with a start, my chest heaving, but I can’t breathe. There’s a crushing weight pinning me down, and every inhale feels like I’m dragging molten fire into my lungs. My head is pounding, and my vision blurs as I try to focus. Something sharp tugs at my leg, insistent and painful. Then I hear a low, guttural growl.
Shit. Is that one of the bulls?
No. No, they wouldn’t growl like that.
What in the hell?
I blink, forcing my eyes to focus through the haze of smoke. The barn is a hellscape. Flames lick the walls, casting everything in an eerie orange glow. Smoke billows thick and black, choking the air, and the heat is unbearable. Panic claws at me, but the growling snaps my attention downward.
Barney. Olivia’s dog is here. His teeth are clamped around the cuff of my jeans, tugging with all his might. He growls again,his small but determined body throwing itself against a wooden beam that’s pinning me down.
This damn dog is trying to rescue me? This can’t be happening.
“Barney?” My voice is barely a croak, and even that burns like fire.
How the hell did he get in here? How did I get in here?
Flashes of memory hit me—leading the last bull out, hearing a crash, then darkness. I must’ve gotten caught under the debris. Barney lets go of my jeans and barks, his frantic, high-pitched yelps cutting through the roar of the flames. Then he’s back at it, ramming his head against the beam, growling as if sheer determination will move it.
“Good boy,” I rasp, though it feels futile.
This dog is every bit of forty pounds, and the beam…it’s probably a lot more.
The beam isn’t budging, and the fire is closing in. My lungs scream for air, and my head spins. The heat is so intense it feels like it’s baking me alive. I cough, the sound tearing through me like broken glass. I’m not getting out of this.
I try moving, but my arms are pinned under me. The beam is too heavy for me to wiggle out from under it. I don’t have enough air or energy. I feel so weak, and there’s definitely something poking into my side; it feels hot and sticky.
I hear voices. Faint at first, distorted by the crackling flames, but unmistakable. Firefighters. Relief surges through me, though it’s quickly tempered by the barn’s ominous groans. The structure is failing, and time is running out.
“Over here!” I try to yell, but it’s barely a whisper.
Barney barks again, his desperate, frantic yelps louder than my voice. It works. The firefighters turn, their movements quick and purposeful as they head toward me.
Through the smoke, they look like aliens, their reflective helmets and masks glinting in the firelight. Relief floods me again, but I can’t let myself hope too much. The barn groans louder, the flames climbing higher.
“Jack!” one of them calls, and recognition jolts through me. Rick, my brother-in-law. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene. “We’ve got you, hang tight!”
He drops to his knees beside me, his gloved hands assessing the beam. “This is bad,” he mutters, but his voice is steady. Another firefighter joins him, and together, they work to lift the beam. Barney backs off, still growling but giving them space.
The beam shifts and white-hot pain explodes through my leg. I bite down on a scream, my vision swimming. “Almost there,” Rick says, his voice calm and reassuring. “Just hold on.”
The weight finally lifts, and they drag me free. The rush of air as I’m pulled upright makes me dizzy, and my legs buckle. Rick and the other firefighter catch me.
“Whoa, take it slow, my guy,” the other firefighter says. “We’re not running a marathon.”
“Can you walk?” Rick asks me.
