The first thing she saw several yards into the vacant space was the reflective surface of a pair of shiny shoes. The next thing that registered were the trouser legs attached to those shoes … and then the body of a man, lying face down on the concrete floor.
“Ooh. Ooh. Dead body.” She began backpedaling toward the door. The body shivered. And then it moaned.
“Okay, so maybe not dead. Just mostly dead.” Carly slapped a hand across her mouth to stop a bubble of nervous laughter. This was too serious. The man was probably a derelict, passed out from drugs or alcohol, or maybe both. He needed help.
She stabbed the emergency button on her phone.
The questions from the other end of the line came thick and fast after her statement of her problem.
“That’s right. Man unconscious in an abandoned store. No, I don’t know him. I have no idea. Drunk or drugs?” She made herself glance back at the form. “There’s a liquor bottle by his head. And it smells funny in here. Like a gas station, maybe. No, I don’t know if he’s still breathing, and I’m not touching him to find out. Please send the police. Send an ambulance. Send somebody.” She gave her location again.
As she punched to end the call, the arc of her flashlight leaped across the man’s body to reflect a pair of eyes shining liquid in the darkness a few feet on the other side. Even as her lungs took in air to scream her brain registered the form. A dog stared at her. A big dog.
“I knew it.” Carly moved carefully in a wide arc around the man’s body toward the animal. An unfamiliar dog was definitely better company than an unconscious—please don’t let him be dying—stranger.
She held up her light so it didn’t shine directly into the animal’s eyes. He was big, with a black muzzle, golden brown cheeks, and a mostly light body. Yep, definitely a German Shepherd.
That gave her pause. A dog under stress might become aggressive. But this one was whining softly, not growling, and his ears were perked up. “It’s okay, big fella. You look like a nice dog.”
She moved a little closer, keeping her voice low and even. “You’re a shepherd, aren’t you? I had a dog growing up. His name was Cooper. He was part shepherd. Part boxer. But mostly parts unknown.”
As she closed the distance, the dog stuck out his muzzle to sniff her tentatively, cold nose dabbing the back of her curled hand. After a moment he ducked his head under her hand and pushed against it, suggesting she pet him.
She stroked down one tall ear a couple of times and then the dog moved his head again and tried to move closer to her body but came to an abrupt halt.
“What’s the matter?” She lifted her light. He wore a collar, a thick heavy leather one by the feel of it. It was attached to a leash that had been wound several times around a support post in the unfinished space. “You’re stuck. No wonder you were whimpering.”
She moved closer to pet him more strongly, feeling the tension coursing through his big body just under his fur. And there with his owner doing a face plant beside them.
Carly shook her head. She knew that some homeless people kept a dog for protection and company. But this guy wasn’t doing his canine companion any favors tonight. She rubbed the dog’s back. “It’s okay. I’ll get you out of here. You can come sit with me until the police arrive.”
At least she could spare the dog the trauma of the police and EMTs arrival with sirens blaring. If too many of them came in quickly, a tethered and stressed dog might accidently bite someone.
She put her phone back in her pocket so she could use both hands to free the animal. “You shouldn’t have to suffer because you have a—”
She glanced at the man. Now that her eyes were becoming accustomed to the light, he looked like a large bundle of clothing on the floor. He was murmuring low but not moving. Did he think she was trying to steal his dog?
The push of nervous energy nudged her and she naturally started talking. “Listen. I don’t want any part of what you were doing here. Okay? Just in case you can hear me, I’m only trying to help your dog.”
As she worked to loosen the knot in the leash, she kept glancing at the man. “I don’t mean to pass judgment. Your situation is not my business. All I’m saying is, if you’ve got time to polish your shoes, you have a minute to pull your life together. Your priorities are completely—”
It was only a soft whoosh of sound. Just like the noise her gas heater made in her former London flat when it came on. And then she understood why.
The baseboard along the far wall began to glow. She froze, her mind trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. Flames, little yellow licks of flickering fire. Along the wall.
Fire.
That made no sense. But fire didn’t have to make sense.
Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! She felt her lips moving, but no sounds emerged. A fire had broken out.
Giving up on the leash, she unlatched the dog’s collar from it and gave him a shove. “Go! Go! Out!”