Chapter 9

When Roy pulled his truck off the road and down the Dales’ laneway, he could sense that something wasn't right.

He had driven away that afternoon thankful that Jenny had finally allowed him to share his information, but it didn’t sit right with him that he’d left her so broken.

He was never one for comforting people, but for Joey’s sister, he would make an exception. He wasn't a flowers or wine type of guy. Instead he hoped the bottle of cheap whiskey bouncing beside him on the passenger seat would do the trick.

The Dale House was fairly secluded, but the trail of black smoke rising above the trees alerted him that something was wrong. He revved his beat up truck, hoping it would hold up as he navigated the back road as fast as it would run.

As he turned the corner that led to the house, he swerved, the truck tires spinning in the mud beneath. He cursed the heavy rain from the night before. The whiskey almost bounced onto the floor and he had to grab it at the last second to avoid it shattering.

He pulled to a sudden stop before the front gate. He could make out two figures standing side by side in the garden, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. One figure was little Isabelle Dale and the other the Dales’ elderly neighbor, Norma Green.

Norma was the first to spot him approaching.

“I've already called the fire brigade. They're on their way, but the firehouse is fifteen minutes out.”

She turned back to the house.

“Oh God, have mercy.”

Isabelle stared wide-eyed, as her home became engulfed in flames. Her hand was clasped tightly within Norma’s.

“Where's Jenny?” Roy asked the frightened child. “Where?”

Isabelle pointed inside, her eyes as large as saucers. She dropped Norma's hand and clung desperately to her frail arm instead.

“Stay here, and don't get any closer. It's not safe.”

Roy ripped off his jacket and tossed it into the grass.

“When the firefighters get here, let them know I went inside for Jenny.”

He left the girl in Norma’s care and ran for the front door. He busted it open with his shoulder and it crumbled easily under his heavy weight.

The fire inside the home burned hot and fierce, and it seemed to be coming from the living room to his left. The heat burned against his skin as he pushed on into the hallway in search of Jenny.

“Jenny? Jenny?” he shouted out, desperate to be heard above the roaring flames.

He didn't hear a response.

He winced as a heavy beam above the living room door collapsed beside him. A wave of dirt and debris fanned out and he put his arm up over his face to avoid the spray.

The wall of heat was completely unbearable. He had to squint to see further than a few inches ahead of him and his eyes ran. He held his arm up to his face, doing all he could to avoid breathing in the smoke.

“Jenny!” Roy bellowed again.

His throat felt dry and raspy from the pressure and lack of oxygen. He didn't know how many more times he could call out her name without turning back for air.

He could make out the entrance to the kitchen up ahead and pushed on, hurrying to avoid the inferno spreading across the living room. He dropped down to a crouch and entered the kitchen, trying his best to keep beneath the billowing smoke.

“Jenny!” he yelled again, this time louder. His chest heaved as he breathed, and he collapsed to his side, desperate for clean air.

He could feel the kitchen wall behind his back. Judging by how far he had come into the room, he guessed he had to be sitting near to the kitchen table. He could use it to pull himself back to his feet.

Roy shifted his weight to his right side until he could reach out and grab a wooden chair leg, then dragged it roughly across the tiled floor. He got a good hold of the wooden seat and brought himself to his knees, his chest heaving from the effort.

He willed himself to keep going. He had to pull through.

“Jenny!” He spluttered. “For the love of God, Jenny!”

“Roy!”

He closed his eyes in relief as her terrified face appeared in front of him. She had been tucked under the kitchen table, unsure of where to go. He grasped her hand tightly and pulled her out from beneath the table. Then he tucked one hand around her waist.

“To the back door,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Go!”

They half crawled, half crouched together across the kitchen, bowing under the darkening smoke cloud. She fumbled clumsily with the back door. Her sweaty hand slipped and slid on the metal handle.

“Let me!”

He gently moved her aside and reached for the handle himself, doing his best to ignore the roar of the inferno approaching them from behind. The sound of glass breaking as the frames expanded made them jump out of their skins.

Just when he thought they were out of time and luck, the door finally gave way. He used the last of his energy to propel her out into the daylight before he stumbled out himself, collapsing against the flagstones of the patio in a heap.

“Roy!”

He could hear her frightened cries as he lay exhausted on the cold stone. The dull roar seemed to be getting even closer than before. He would have to move away from the house if he wanted to survive.

“Come on!”

Jenny suddenly had a strong hold of his upper arms. He was heavy but she did her best to pull him across the flagstones, grunting and groaning as she forced her muscles to act.

Roy could feel the stone scraping at the back of his shirt. He fought his aching body to turn himself over and clawed his way onto the lawn and out of danger.

Roy and Jenny fell in a heap on the lawn, her hands still clenched tightly to his shoulders. He gently shook her off and turned himself back over, wiping a heap of sweaty hair away from his forehead as he fought to catch his breath.

Roy could hear Jenny’s heavy breathing behind him. He pulled himself into a sitting position and reached for her hand. She took it and she squeezed his hand as hard as she could. Tears flowed steadily from her eyes.

“You okay?' he asked her softly. “You're not hurt, are you?”

She shook her head.

“No, I think I'm okay.”

She coughed into the back of her hand as she looked up at the house.

“I thought for sure I was going to die in there.”

He held her hand firmly. He had feared the same thing.