Graham’s entire body quivered with unreleased anxiety and the need to do something, without being able to. “You,” he said, pointing at the employee who had radioed to Al. “Go get a fire extinguisher. Get two. Bring help. Don’t start screaming about a fire, just get help. Go!” he yelled, shoving the employee in the back when they simply stood, frozen. He scurried off, looking terrified enough to piss his pants.
God knew if he’d actually do it. Graham focused on waiting for Al to find the right key, then heard something slap up against the door. It sounded like knocking from the inside. “Jesus, get the door open. Get it open.”
“I’m trying as fast . . .” Understanding the severity now, as more smoke made its way through the opening around the door, Al’s hands shook as he tried to push the key in. Finally, Graham shoved him aside and unlocked it, throwing the door open simultaneously. He felt as if he could rip the whole thing from the door hinges.
Smoke poured out in a wave, gray and thin but choking nonetheless. He bent over, sucked in a breath, then ran in.
And found Levi on top of Kara, pulling at her arms and tangling his legs with hers. A cardboard box lay over them, more scattered on the floor. And in the corner, a fire burned. His main focus became Kara. He rushed Levi, bulldozing him like a linebacker so the kid flew off his woman and several feet back, smacking into the back wall of the closet.
Graham crouched between Levi and Kara, shielding her with his back. “Baby, can you stand? Can you walk?”
She looked up at him, glassy-eyed, and coughed.
That was enough for him. He bent down and scooped her up. He made it two steps toward Al, toward the open air of the gym when he felt something hit the center of his back. He stumbled forward, balance thrown off with Kara in his arms, and went to his knees. One cracked hard against the floor as he twisted to keep from landing directly on Kara.
Levi beat against his back, kicking and punching and scratching while screaming something incoherent in a raspy, hoarse voice. Kara curled into a ball, sheltered by his arms and back, and tried to crawl toward the gym.
He heard shouting, yells, saw light and felt relief as he waited for Kara to make her way to safety. And then, he saw red. Turning, he pushed Levi off, then swung out with a fist hard enough to send him flying back. He stumbled, tripped over one of the boxes, and landed ass-first into the fire.
Graham hesitated—and for the rest of his life he would hate himself for it—then reached back in and pulled the man out, rolling him to extinguish the flames that ate at his shirt and pants. His own hands burned with the effort, and something scorched his calf. When that wasn’t enough, Graham ripped his shirt off and used it to beat down on the remaining sparks until the man only smoked.
Dimly, from somewhere else in his brain, he saw others burst in with the fire extinguisher. Heard the fire alarm sound. People yelling, thundering down the bleachers in an effort to get outside. Heard someone yell his name. Saw someone shoot white foam from an extinguisher at the fire.
And then felt hands drag him from the closet. He squinted as though he’d been living in a cave for a year as Brad and Tressler hooked him under each arm and dragged him back into the gym, then toward the nearest exit. He could walk. He was walking. Wasn’t he? Or was he floating? And why didn’t his left leg want to hold him up?
“Sweeney.” Coach Ace was on them as soon as they left the building. “Look at me, son. Look at me. Let me see your eyes.”
“No, look at me.” Marianne pushed the huge coach aside. For a tiny thing, Graham thought with a loopy smile, she was a bulldog.
Ha. Bulldog. Marine. So fitting.
“Hey. Hey, buddy. Woo hoo.” She snapped and brought his attention back down to her. And he sat with a thud on a curb. “Hey now. There we go. Eyes on me. Follow the finger.”
He did, though it felt like his eyes wanted to cross instead. “Where’s Kara?”
“What’s today’s date?”
“Kara,” he said again, coughing with it.
“She’s with another trainer. Look at me. Focus. Date, please.”
He just looked at her, into those blue eyes, full of concern and near tears. “Kara,” he whispered.
Marianne looked up, then said, “Bring him over to her. If he’s sitting next to her, maybe I’ll actually get something done.”
He felt himself be hefted back up—floating again—and let himself glide to another clump of people. Kara lay in the grass, half-propped in Greg’s arms, being attended to by a man dressed much like Marianne, only wearing black and gold. Army colors. He seemed competent and caring, and Graham could kiss him.
Brad and Tressler settled him down next to her, and he immediately grabbed for her hand. It hurt, thanks to the raw burns from the fire, but he couldn’t have cared less. She squeezed weakly, looking at him with those glassy, unfocused eyes again. The man held an ice pack to her temple, another at her shoulder.
She tried to say something, but he heard nothing. He leaned in, fighting when Tressler tried to keep him upright. “What, baby? What is it?”
She whispered, nearly toneless, “Did you win?”
He blinked, then looked at the trainer attending her. “What?”