Chapter 18

He moved through the fire station with confident steps. It was empty, with everyone either home or out on the latest call, but he still acted like he was supposed to be there, just in case. He slipped into the storage room and quickly gathered what he needed. This should be the last time he’d have to play the part. The plan was in place.

After tonight, he’d finally get what he was owed.

* * *

Camille never thought she would cheer when a pony pooped, but that was exactly what she did. All of them cheered, and the mood in the barn grew much lighter. This time, when Steve insisted they all head to the house, they listened, leaving him to watch Q a little longer, just to make sure the colic had resolved.

As the kids took turns taking hot showers, Camille heated up some of Micah’s crab bisque for a late dinner. While the others ate, she took some soup out for Steve but ran into him halfway to the barn.

Taking one look at his scowl, she asked, “What’s wrong? Did Q get worse?”

“No.” He took her hand as she fell in next to him. “I got called in.”

“Again? What is that, the fourth fire in three days?”

His shoulders lowered in a silent sigh. “Yeah, although this time it’s already out. I’m just needed to help mop up. Tucker, one of the other firefighters, caught his hand in the truck door, so the chief’s driving him to the ER in Ebba. They’re down two people, so they asked if I could come in to help finish up. All these fires are typical of the season, though. There are candles and dried-out, unwatered trees in people’s homes, plus the extra electrical use means packed outlets. Oh, and fireplaces and heaters, although those are more winter-related than Christmas…” He trailed off when he saw she was trying to hide a smile. “What?”

“You’re babbling. You never babble.” Secretly, she kind of liked it. Whenever she noticed some quirk or flaw of his, it reassured her that he wasn’t perfect—just really close to it.

“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’m just tired. All the recent calls, and then being out all evening with Q, plus we’re just finishing up our busy time here. I feel like everything’s been full speed ahead since moving back to the ranch.”

Camille squeezed his hand, wishing she could do more. “Just get through tonight, and then things will quiet down. Q’s going to be fine, and the kids have some time off school, so there won’t be so much running around. People will toss their dried-out trees and put away their candles, and you’ll be able to get some rest.”

“Yeah.” Steve glanced at her, his tired frown lightening. “Not sure I really want to rest once I get some free time, though.”

“Oh?” Her heart gave a happy little skip. “What would you be interested in doing instead?”

“I don’t know… Something like this?” Bending down, he pressed his cold face into the curve of her neck. She gave a laughing shriek at the chill of his skin. His lips quickly warmed her as he kissed her neck, however. Tipping her head to the side to give him better access, she closed her eyes as he worked his way up to the sensitive spot under her jaw.

When he pulled away, she made a disappointed sound as she turned toward him. “I wish I could.” The heat in his gaze proved his words were true. “I have to go on this call. Will you check on Q in a couple of hours if I’m not back? I tried calling my brothers, but none of them are answering their phones.”

“Of course I will, but none? Are you worried?”

“No. They’re at this Christmas Eve party they go to every year. It’s probably too loud to hear their phones.”

That didn’t seem right. “Joe went to a party?”

He laughed. “No. Ryan and Nate are there. Joe probably turned his phone off, like he always does. Thanks for watching the kids and looking in on Q.” Pressing a quick—too quick—kiss on her mouth, he turned to go.

“Wait! Take some soup.” She handed him the travel mug. Giving her another kiss, he jogged toward the machine shed where his truck was parked.

She headed back to the house, glad that he at least had gotten some food before he left. The kitchen was clean and quiet. She found the kids in the living room, reading or playing on their tablets, with the Christmas tree all lit up. It rustled, and she winced, knowing that Lucy was climbing it again. Hopefully, the cat wouldn’t knock over the entire tree.

“Hey,” Camille said, and the kids looked up. “Your dad had to go on a call.”

“Another one?” Will echoed her words from earlier.

“He said this is a busy time of year for fires.”

Zoe nodded. “That’s true. I remember that from other Christmases.”

“How’s Q?” Maya asked.

“Good. Your dad asked if I’d check him in a few hours if he’s not back.” When she saw Maya’s uncertain look, she added, “If Q looks at all uncomfortable, I’ll come get you, if that’s okay? You can tell me if something’s wrong or not. If he relapses, we’ll call the vet again.”

This seemed to soothe Maya’s worries, and she nodded before turning back to her book. Camille lingered for a moment, taking in the quiet peace of the room. She’d always considered her solitary existence peaceful, but this farmhouse, Steve and his kids and brothers, made her realize how lonely and isolated she’d been. Standing there watching the kids filled her with a contentment so deep it was hard to leave the room. The lure of a hot shower finally was enough to tear her away from the cozy scene, and she made her way upstairs.

Once she was clean and finally warm all the way through, Camille returned to the living room. The kids had turned off all the lights except the multicolored ones on the tree. They spent an hour telling stories about other Christmases, although Camille listened more than she contributed. She and her grandma had celebrated quietly, which didn’t lead to many interesting tales. It was yet another Christmas-card moment, and she carefully added the memory to the others she held close to her heart.

The kids, tired by the hours in the barn and the stressful evening, went to bed early, despite their muted excitement about the next day. Zoe gave her a sleepy smile, and Maya hugged her hard around the waist before they climbed the stairs, and Camille had to blink back tears once again. She still couldn’t believe that she’d been welcomed into this amazing family. Micah gave her one of his side hugs—quick but almost unbearably sweet—as Will watched with an unreadable expression. Once Micah was upstairs, Will turned to Camille, his face serious.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he headed upstairs, taking the stairs three at a time. Camille stood in the now-vacated living room, staring at the tree with a smile. Even despite the pony’s colic, she couldn’t remember ever having a better Christmas Eve.

Camille checked on Q—who was happily munching on hay with no sign of pain and, best of all, had several new piles of manure in his stall—before heading to bed. When she stuck her head in to give Maya a pony report, she saw both girls were already sleeping, so she slipped back to Steve’s room—their room. She felt a warm glow at the thought.

She set her phone alarm to go off in two hours so she could do another pony check. She wished she’d asked Steve where the kids’ presents were hidden, so she could make sure they were under the tree by morning if he was stuck on a long call.

Resting her cheek on her pillow, she looked at the empty half of the bed. The horrible horse sculpture still sat on the bedside table, even though she’d threatened to toss it in the scrap pile. Steve said he was fond of it, because it showed that she wasn’t always perfect. Remembering that moment, Camille snorted, even as her chest warmed. It was nice to have someone think she was so amazing that he needed proof of her flaws—really nice. She started to frown as she stared at the horse. Even if one of the kids had placed it in her room with good intentions, the presence of the sculpture bothered her.

Feeling a little silly, she slid out of bed and grabbed the horse, placing it on a shelf in the closet. “Don’t kill me while I sleep,” she warned the little demon riders, who looked even more menacing with fire damage discoloring their little bodies. Closing the closet door, she snuggled back into bed, her gaze on Steve’s empty pillow again.

Even though she hadn’t been sharing a bed with Steve for very long, it felt empty when he wasn’t there with her. She slid a hand over the fuzzy flannel pillowcase, picturing him asleep. It was rare that she woke up before he did, but she loved seeing him relaxed and soft, the worry lines on his face invisible in the dim light. Smiling at the thought of him, she fell asleep quickly. When her alarm went off at midnight, she felt like she’d just closed her eyes a second ago.

Dragging herself out of bed, she dressed and headed downstairs with her eyes still mostly closed.

“Checking the pony?”

Nate’s voice startled her, bringing her fully awake. She saw him standing by the stove, pouring something from a pan into a travel mug. “Yes. Sorry, I didn’t see you. I’m mostly sleepwalking.”

His soft chuckle sounded a little fuzzy around the edges, and she smiled. He must’ve had a few drinks at the Christmas Eve party he and Ryan had attended. “Do you want me to check him for you?”

“That’s okay.” She felt a little awkward refusing his help, but she’d promised Maya she’d personally make sure that Q was still recovering. “I’m awake now, and I won’t be able to sleep unless I see him with my own eyes.”

“Here,” he said, holding out the mug. “Take this, at least. Hot chocolate with peppermint. It’ll help keep you warm.”

“Thanks.” She accepted the mug. “How was the party?”

“The party?” One of his shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “It was fine. Same as every year. You know how it is, living in the town you grew up in. Everyone thinks they know you.” There was a melancholy sound to his voice that Camille was feeling too sleepy to interpret. Even on her best days, she wasn’t very good at counseling people.

She made a hmm sound that could be taken as agreement. “Where’s Ryan?”

“Not sure. He left the party early, said he had to take care of something.” He gave a slight eye roll. “You know Ryan.”

She didn’t, really, but she let that go. “Thanks for coming over. I’m always a little nervous when Steve has to go on a call at night.”

He paused. “You don’t ever have to worry, Camille. I’ll always be here to protect you.”

“Well,” she said, inching toward the door, the mug gripped in her hand, and feeling a little awkward at the intense turn of their conversation. “Thank you for the hot chocolate.” Raising it in an awkward salute, she slipped out of the kitchen.

The cold air erased the last of her sleepiness when she stepped outside, and she took a second to appreciate the beautiful night. The stars were so bright and close, and light from the three-quarter moon made the snow covering the pastures glow a bluish-white. Micah’s snow horse was still there, and it made her smile every time she looked at it.

“Merry Christmas,” she said quietly, speaking to the snow horse and the ranch and all its residents, even those not there at the moment. She hoped that Steve was safe, that mopping up the last bits of the fire had been as simple as he’d expected, and that the injured firefighter’s hand wasn’t damaged too badly. She silently gave thanks, loving that she was a part of this ranch and connected to all the people who lived there. As she walked to the barn, the only sound was the crunch of snow under her boots.

There was a gap between the sliding door and the wall. It was just a few inches, but she frowned at it, the dark space sending a ripple of unease through her. She distinctly remembered closing and latching the door when she’d checked on the pony earlier. Had someone else been in the barn? Who?

Shaking off her nerves, she scolded herself for letting such a small thing unnerve her. It was just the late night and the quiet of the barn that were making her overthink things. Opening the door a little more so she could slip inside, she moved to turn on the lights and then hesitated, looking around. The open door had spooked her, and the strange moonlight shadows didn’t help. She listened, trying to hear anything out of the ordinary, but the only sound was the rustling of the horses moving in their stalls.

Letting out a long breath, she shook her head at her jumpiness. She was getting spooked over nothing. She reached for the light switch again. Before she could turn it on, there was a loud thud. She froze, not even breathing as she waited for the noise to come again. When it was quiet, she moved cautiously forward, starting to feel like it had been a figment of her imagination.

She moved down the row of stalls, peering into each one, her heart beating so loudly in her ears that she worried she’d miss hearing other more menacing sounds. Was someone in the barn? She tried to dismiss her fears, telling herself that her nightmares had her on edge, but her body stayed tense, her eyes seeing menacing intruders in every shadow. Slowing her breathing, she passed the dark shapes sleeping in the stalls, the shadows turning regular horses into nightmare forms. Each rustle and exhale made her jump. All the noises that would’ve been innocent and innocuous during the cheerful light of day became ominous in the dim light of the barn.

As she passed Buttercup’s stall, the mare snaked out her head, and Camille sucked in a breath at the sudden movement. She spun toward the stall, peering through the gloom to see the mare catch the lip of her hanging grain bucket in her teeth and then let it go. The pail swung back and thumped against the side of her stall. Her heart still pounding out of control, Camille let out the breath she’d been holding, her legs wobbly with leftover adrenaline and relief.

“Buttercup,” she said, whispering for some strange reason. “You scared me to death.”

Determined to quit jumping at shadows, she moved to the pony’s stall. He whickered at her, sticking his head over the stall door, and she smiled. If he was feeling well enough to beg for treats, then he’d be just fine.

It wasn’t until she got right up next to his stall that she saw the dark shape in the far corner. Her heart jolted for a moment until she recognized what—who—it was. Maya was curled up, asleep, wrapped in the fleece blanket Camille had brought from the house earlier.

“Maya,” she said softly, nudging Q back so she could slip into the stall with them. Crouching down, she put a hand on the girl’s slight shoulder, and Maya awoke with a start. Remembering her earlier moment of panic, Camille quickly said, “It’s me. I came to check Q and found you.”

Pushing up to a sitting position, Maya shoved her hair out of her face. “Sorry. I woke up, and I was worried.”

“It’s okay.” Suddenly chilly, Camille sat down in the shavings next to her, wrapping an arm around Maya’s shoulders and tugging the edge of the blanket over her. “Give me some of that, and you can have some of this hot chocolate. I’m freezing.”

With a small laugh, Maya rearranged the blanket so it covered both of them and then took the travel mug out of Camille’s hand. They sat quietly for a moment, Maya taking sips of hot chocolate. After a few minutes, she passed back the mug and laid her head on Camille’s shoulder. Wrapped up together like that, Camille actually felt warm.

“Merry Christmas,” Camille said.

“It’s Christmas?”

“Very, very early on Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” There was a smile in Maya’s voice. “I’ve already gotten what I wanted, though.”

“Q being okay?” Camille guessed.

“Yeah.” She paused. “Plus you’re here for Christmas. That’s a pretty great gift, too.”

“I’m glad I’m here.” Unable to stop the beaming smile that took over her face, Camille looked at the pony as he lipped at some stray bits of hay. “He’s so much better. When I walked up to the stall just now, he was nickering for treats.”

“Good.” Maya paused and then asked tentatively, “Do you mind if we watch him, just for a few minutes? It’s hard to believe he’s okay when I can’t see him.”

“Sure.”

Silence fell over them, and Camille thought about how, oddly enough, sitting in the pony’s stall with Maya was really very peaceful. As Maya’s head grew heavy on her shoulder and her breathing deepened with sleep, Camille watched Q doing contented pony things and enjoyed the small sounds of a horse barn at night.

* * *

A loud bang woke her, but the smell of smoke brought her back into her nightmare. She opened her eyes to a gray haze. The faint, flickering red light fighting to cut through the layer of smoke was uncomfortably familiar, but it took her too many seconds to realize why.

Fire!

Sucking in a terrified breath, she immediately choked as her lungs filled with smoke. It felt like a clamp was pressing down on her chest, making it impossible to inhale. The horribly familiar claustrophobic feeling overwhelmed her. Everything—the smoke and flames and bitter rasp of the smoke in her throat—was too horribly familiar.

The pony gave a sharp squeal and struck the stall door with a front hoof again. He nervously paced the far wall, adding to her growing panic. It felt like she was reliving the workshop fire, only this time there was a pony and she was in a stall and Maya was sleeping on her shoulder.

Maya!

Camille jolted. This wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. The barn was on fire, and she needed to get Maya out. The thought filled her with resolution, clearing her head of the panic that clouded it, leaving only a steady, anxious thrum of urgency.

“Maya.” Her voice came out too soft to hear, and she realized that the nightmarish roar of the flames was getting louder. Horses whinnied and paced in fear, and Q struck out at the door again. The resulting bang made Camille flinch in startled reaction, but she forced the terror down. “Maya! Maya, wake up!”

She shook the girl with the arm still wrapped around her, panic gripping her again when Maya didn’t open her eyes, her head still a heavy weight on Camille’s shoulder. With shaking fingers, she pressed the side of Maya’s throat. When she felt the steady pulse of a heartbeat, she sagged in relief.

“Wh-wha?” Maya slurred, and Camille’s heart squeezed in panicked relief.

“Maya! Are you with me?”

Maya’s lids cracked open, but her face remained slack, her eyes blurry and confused. Fear choked Camille. Had Maya inhaled too much smoke? The dangers of carbon dioxide poisoning flashed in her mind, and a wave of dizziness rolled through her. Stop it, she commanded her brain. She couldn’t psych herself out now. She was their only hope at getting out alive.

“Can you walk?” Camille demanded as Maya’s eyes slid shut again. “Wake up, Maya!”

This time, Maya’s eyes stayed closed. Camille tried to force her thoughts into a logical order, rather than just spinning around uselessly in her head. Maya was alive, but she wasn’t coherent or mobile. They needed to get out immediately. That meant Camille had to carry her out.

The relief of having a plan was instantaneous, and she scrambled to her feet. Crouching down next to Maya, she gathered the girl against her chest and started to lift her. Her arms and back strained at the weight, but she managed to stand with Maya cradled in her arms. She was suddenly grateful for all the heavy lifting she did while sorting through scrap.

She rushed to the stall door, shouldering Q out of the way. With both of her arms cradling Maya, she didn’t have a hand free to reach over the door and unlatch it. A frustrated sob escaped, and she started to cough.

Stop it, she mentally snapped at her rising panic. Think! Crouching down again, she tried to ignore the way the pony was crowding her, as anxious as she was to get out of the stall and the blazing barn. Placing Maya down on the shavings, praying that Q didn’t strike at the door again and hit her instead, Camille shifted her to a sitting position and hauled the girl over her shoulders.

“Wha’s going on?” Maya’s words were barely comprehensible, but Camille was thankful that the girl was at least semiconscious.

“The barn’s on fire.” She tried to channel Steve, to keep her voice calm, but it was hard not to let her words quaver. “I’m getting you out of here.”

They both wobbled as Camille tried to balance Maya’s limp weight. Clamping an arm over the back of the girl’s thighs, she struggled to stand, grabbing the top of the stall door with her free hand to keep them from both toppling over into Q. Images of them being stomped under the pony’s nervous feet played through her mind, and she quickly cut off that train of thought.

Plan, she ordered her mind. Follow the plan. It’s simple. Get Maya out of the barn.

This time, she managed to unlatch the stall door. As it swung open, the pony rushed to get out, pushing Camille forward. She stumbled out into the aisle and twisted out of the way, letting Q thunder past her. As he galloped down the aisle, the other horses’ panic ramped up dramatically. They snorted and whinnied their distress while several kicked at their stall walls.

Camille rushed toward the closest sliding door at the end of the aisle, staggering under Maya’s weight. She saw the flames now, eating away at the tack room wall, and she felt a flash of relief that the fire hadn’t reached any of the stalls…not yet, at least.

The thought pushed her faster, and she moved through the choking, smoky dimness, fumbling to unlatch each stall as she made too-slow progress down the aisle. She heard hooves on the rubber mats, but she didn’t look behind her, knowing she wasn’t able to concentrate on the horses right now, no matter how scared they were.

First, she had to get Maya out, and then she’d return for the horses.

The tall sliding door was suddenly there in front of her, and she gasped with relief—and immediately regretted that when the smoke made her lungs seize. Fighting back her coughs, she reached for the handhold and pulled. All she had to do was slide open the door, and she and Maya and the horses she’d managed to free would be safe.

The door didn’t move.

She pulled harder, unable to understand why it wasn’t opening. Usually, it slid smoothly along its tracks. She yanked again, but it didn’t budge, not even shifting a fraction of an inch.

Could it have swelled from the heat, making it stick? She kicked it, frustrated, and felt a dull pain in her booted foot, but the door stayed stubbornly shut. Dropping her hand, she forced herself to think again. As she fought with the door, Maya was breathing in more smoke, and it wasn’t getting them any closer to escaping the barn.

Turning, she moved to the other door on the opposite end of the aisle. Her head spun, and she knew that she shouldn’t be breathing so much smoke, but there was no way to crawl while carrying Maya—besides, that would be too slow. As it was, her shuffling steps felt nightmarishly difficult and snaillike, their escape slowed even more by having to open each stall to free the trapped horses.

She moved closer and closer to the blazing tack room, and the smoke thickened, creating an opaque wall between them and the door. Holding her breath, she plowed through the choking blackness, keeping her gaze focused forward, trying to ignore the flames flickering in her peripheral vision. Her mind kept wanting to take her back to that night in her workshop and to each subsequent nightmare—the ones where she never got out of the fiery room.

Stop it. She slammed a mental door on those thoughts. Her lungs were squeezing with a lack of air, and she was forced to drag in a bitter, painful inhale. Her breathing was wheezy now, threatening to send her into a coughing fit at any moment. She forced one foot to move and then the other, clinging to Maya desperately. She refused to think about the little girl breathing the same harmful smoky air.

When she reached the door, Camille was too light-headed and terrified to rejoice. Grimly, she yanked at the handle. This time, she wasn’t shocked when it didn’t move. She’d almost been expecting that, and she didn’t waste time with futile struggling. She and Maya didn’t have any time to lose.

Get Maya out. Get Maya out. The mantra repeated in her head as she tried to think, despite the fear and smoke clouding her brain. The doors were useless, so what was next? A window? All the windows were set so high up that they were essentially vertical skylights. Swallowing the terrified sob that wanted to escape, Camille mentally scanned the barn in her mind.

The Dutch door! In her panic, she’d forgotten it. Stumbling back toward the center of the barn, she saw that flames had climbed the wall and were spreading to the feed room. A small pile of a half-dozen hay bales stacked in the aisle next to Maybelle’s stall had caught fire, and Camille knew they didn’t have much time before the barn was completely alight.

She coughed, her lungs burning, and realized they didn’t have much time…period.

Reaching the door, she unlatched the top and bottom portions and pushed, half expecting it not to open, like the other two. When it swung open, bringing a wave of fresh, cold air, she gasped with relief. A horse shrieked with fear behind her, and she turned her head to see that they were bunched against the door she’d first tried to open, crowded in a terrified mass in the only place they knew to go—the door they went through every morning to get out to the pasture. Q was the only one not milling frantically in their huddle. Instead, he was trotting back and forth behind Camille, snorting in fear.

“What…What’s happening? Camille?” Maya’s hoarse voice, more coherent than before, almost brought Camille to her knees with relief. As she’d carried the girl through the flaming barn, a part of Camille had been dreadfully sure that Maya wasn’t going to make it. At the sound of her voice, cracked but coherent, a new, desperate plan formed.

“Maya?” Rushing outside, Camille crouched and carefully slid her off her shoulder, catching her when Maya started crumpling to the ground. “Are you with me?”

“What’s going on?” With Camille’s support, Maya caught her balance, although she swayed as she stared frantically into the barn.

“The barn’s on fire. I need to get the horses out.” She caught Maya’s face in her hands, holding her gaze. “You need to ride Q away from the barn. Go to the house and get help. Understand?”

“You want me to ride Q?” Maya started coughing, and Camille released her. When Q made his next pass down the aisle, she looped her arm under his neck, grabbing a hank of mane. The pony slid to a stop. After a couple of half-hearted attempts at trying to free himself from her hold, he stilled, and Camille led him through the door to where Maya was waiting.

“Get on,” she said, and Maya automatically moved to the pony’s side. Camille gave her a leg up, tossing her onto Q’s back. Maya gripped the pony’s mane, sliding off-center as he sidestepped nervously, still anxious about the burning barn so close behind them. Camille gave Maya’s leg a tug, centering her again. “Now ride carefully. Don’t go too fast. I don’t want you hurting yourself trying to get help.”

Maya’s face was starkly pale in the moonlight, her gaze terrified but finally clear. “You’ll get the other horses?”

“Yes.”

Maya nodded, and Q leapt forward into a fast canter. Camille’s heart squeezed as Maya was jostled sideways before she regained her balance. The wind whipped Camille’s hair around her as the pony and his rider disappeared into the night. Maya’s out. Camille’s knees went soft, but she forced them to stiffen, turning back to the barn. The black and red interior, so ominous and frightening, made her want to run to safety, but a horse’s shrill scream sent her rushing back into the inferno.

The horses were in full panic, bumping and shoving each other in a frantic rush to escape. They didn’t see the open Dutch door, too focused on the closed one at the end of the aisle. Camille stared at the churning mass as flames roared higher, creeping too quickly down the row of stalls toward the terrified horses.

She didn’t know what to do.

A flash of gray caught her eye through the smoky haze, and she saw Buttercup standing slightly apart from the others. Although her head was high and her tail clamped down in fear, she didn’t seem as panicked as the others, and the vague outline of a plan formed in Camille’s mind.

Grabbing a rope off one of the stalls, she hurried toward the mare, wanting to run but knowing that it would just spook Buttercup and the others even more.

“Hey, Buttercup,” she said, her voice rough and shaky. The mare snorted nervously as she approached but didn’t move away as Camille reached her side. “You need to be the boss mare for me now. Show the others what they need to do.”

Looping the rope around Buttercup’s neck right behind her ears, Camille moved toward the open door. The mare didn’t move at first, and Camille had a moment of fear that she wouldn’t cooperate. The horse was huge, taller than Camille at the shoulder, and she knew she couldn’t force Buttercup do anything she didn’t want to.

“Come on,” she begged, her eyes stinging from tears as much as the smoke, and tugged at the rope circling Buttercup’s neck. The mare stepped forward, one huge hoof after another, and Camille felt dizzy with relief. “Good girl.” Raising her voice, she called to the other horses. “Let’s go, guys!” She had no idea if it would help, but she just hoped they would see the big mare leaving through the Dutch door and figure out that was the way to escape.

A small shape darted out of the group toward Buttercup, and Camille recognized Maybelle. As soon as the goat glimpsed the open door, she shot ahead of them out into the night. Two more—Harry the draft horse and a pony she didn’t recognize—broke off from the milling herd to follow.

Camille started to think that her plan would work. As they reached the open doorway, she pulled the rope away from Buttercup’s neck and stepped back, afraid that both she and the horse wouldn’t fit through the opening. The big mare charged outside, followed by the other two—and then five more in quick succession.

Tears flowed freely down her face now as one horse after another escaped the burning barn. Wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand, she peered into the gloom. The smoke had thickened, and the barn was getting darker even as the flames grew, casting light that created demonic shadows.

Only one horse remained against the closed sliding door, pacing back and forth across the aisle, his head up and eyes wild, completely panicked now that he was alone. The flames reflected off his sweaty coat, turning the horse a devilish red. With the rolling smoke surrounding them and the roar of the fire, the cozy, comfortable barn had transformed into a frightening hellscape. Everything inside Camille wanted to run, to flee the inferno, but she couldn’t leave the panicked horse to die.

“It’s okay,” she crooned, her voice cracking from fear and the smoke as she walked toward the last terrified horse. Adrenaline made her shake as she struggled to hold back a cough. Her words were buried in the crackle and thunder of the flames, and she forced her aching throat to speak louder. “Just follow them outside. You’ll be okay then. Simply go through that door like the others did.” She moved toward his side as he snorted in terror, and she saw his entire body was trembling. “You’re okay.” She reached up to loop the rope around his neck.

As the braided cotton brushed against his wet coat, he exploded into action, charging forward toward the open door. She froze, unable to move. Instead, she watched as the horse ran right at her, his wide, frightened eyes and flared nostrils filling her vision as he thundered past. His powerful shoulder knocked into her, sending her flying back into the wall. She felt weightless for a long moment before she collided headfirst, white stars dotting her vision over the growing wall of flames.

The impact stunned her, and she lay sprawled on the ground, watching with blurry eyes as that final horse galloped through the opening and into the night.

Get up, that commanding voice in her head ordered. She tried to move, but pain overwhelmed her, making her head spin so badly that she didn’t know which direction was up. The roar of the fire filled her ears, but the urgency that had driven her seemed remote now.

She made another attempt to rise and pushed up to her hands and knees, but the pain in her head and the dizziness were too much. The world turned black as she collapsed to the ground.

Seconds or minutes later, consciousness returned, and she felt the heat of the fire and heard the roar as it ate its way through the barn. She managed to peel her eyes partway open, but her limbs wouldn’t obey her commands. She was back in her nightmare again, surrounded by flames and smoke but unable to move, to escape.

A figure moved through the fire toward her, and she watched, fear jolting through her limbs as she recognized the bunker gear, the face shield and mask. He was here. Oh God, he was real. Her fingers twitched as she tried to force her unresponsive body to move, to push to her feet and run…but it was too late.

The faceless man was bending over her, flames throwing grotesque shadows behind him. He reached for her, sliding his arms beneath her back and legs.

All she could do was scream silently in her mind.