“Lila? What is it, are you okay?”

She’s fading on me, her mind confused and her breathing becoming labored. This is a fucking disaster, and I don’t mean the fire. Or I do. I’m supposed to take care of her, that’s my fucking job and I’m good at it. Or I was until the moment I walked into her house and saw her.

It’s all a massive fuck-up, from the time I broke in, to when I fucked her. I don’t call that a waste of time. If it turns out to be the last fuck of my life, it was also the best.

I hate to leave the crazy dog, but I’m now looking at a medical emergency. She’s been breathing rapidly and not used to this much smoke. She’s inhaled too much particulate and needs a respirator. I scoop her up in my arms and start toward the truck. She’s feebly smacking at me and kicking the entire way. I’d have expected nothing less from this kook.

Something about the way her house sits on the cleared lot means there’s less smoke at the side, just a few steps away from where we were standing before I picked her up. Her eyes refocus and she gets her second wind.

“Put me down!” she commands, clear as day.

“If I do, will you walk to the truck with me, or am I going to have to carry you all the way there?”

“Please put me down?”

Since it isn’t a demand, I stop and set her on her feet. But I take her elbow to guide her in case the smoke thickens again when we reach the corner of the house. It’s still so thick I can’t see the truck, which can’t be more than 30 feet away.

With the first step, I know she’s going to be trouble again. She doesn’t move her feet. I stop.

“Lila, come on. This is no time to screw around. Let’s go.”

“You didn’t have any trouble screwing around before,” she accuses.

“Babe, we’re going around in circles. And there. Is. No. Time. We can sort out the accusations later. I’m not kidding.”

“I’m not either, Shawn. Listen, it isn’t your fault. I’m a mess, and I have been ever since Jon died. I guess I wouldn’t choose to, now, but this morning I would have been happy to stay right here and accept whatever fate brought me. I don’t want to be responsible for your death, and I can’t be responsible for Mr. Pete’s, not if I can help it. So, you need to go and let me do what I must. I’ll be okay.”

She can’t be serious. But I can see she is. Less than a minute ago, she was on the verge of passing out. Doesn’t she understand that? I step in front of her, take her by the upper arms and grasp her. She tilts her head up and I see all the pain inside her welling in her beautiful soulful eyes. Yeah, soulful. I’m no artist but I can recognize it in her.

“You aren’t thinking clearly, Lila,” I tell her, trying to be forceful but just wanting to hold her and make her feel better. She’s been in agony far too long. “You’re suffering from hypoxia, and staying here is only going to make it worse.”

I’m making assumptions because frankly, she’s been exhibiting confusion, anxiety and disorientation since the moment I clapped eyes on her. Still, I need to ensure her safety. No more stupid mistakes.

“We don’t have time to find Mr. Pete. I’m sorry.”

She starts to say something and I’m expecting the usual stubborn backlash, but then her eyes roll up. I catch her just before she falls and throw her over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift. There’s oxygen in the truck. She needs it now. I have to try not to notice the pressure of her perfect tits shelved on my shoulder. I turn around and run blindly toward where I think the truck’s parked.

As soon as I reach the tree line, I know I’ve overshot the damn mark. Where the fuck is it? I whirl again and search for the truck, the house, any solid marker to give me a bearing. There! A shadowy block a few feet to my right. I could have run smack into it. I stagger under her weight, but it’s because I’m beginning to suffer from hypoxia, too. We’re going to die right here if I don’t get it together.

I muster my strength and move across the land like a blind man. With my hand outstretched, I reach the back of the truck and feel my way toward the passenger-side door. I stumble into something against the side of the vehicle and we both almost go tumbling down. What the fuck? A tree branch? No clue? I kick the article out of my path.

Thank God I left the truck unlocked because I don’t know in which pocket I shoved my keys and only one hand is free. The other is barely holding Lila on my shoulder. She’s motionless now and I fucking pray she isn’t passed out. Because I would never, ever, forgive myself.

I heave her into the seat and lean over her, grabbing the oxygen mask from its hook and jamming it over my nose and mouth, then twisting the tank’s valve to open it all the way. Put on your own oxygen before you try to help someone else. I want to help her first but the training is ingrained, repeated over and over in countless fire crew meetings and on every flight of every commercial airliner in the country.

As soon as a couple of deep breaths clear my head, I pull off the mask and place it over Lila’s soft face, securing it with the strap.

After making sure she’s secure in the seat, I run around the front of the truck and slam into the driver’s seat. Smoke fills the cab. I twist to find my oxygen mask and the valve on the second tank. I turn it halfway and then reach to adjust Lila’s flow. Inside the truck, there’s less smoke than outside, but it’s beginning to seep through around the window seals. We can’t get out of here fast enough.

The trouble is, I can’t see the road. I literally can’t see the road immediately in front of the truck. I need Lila’s familiarity with the route before I go off half-cocked and maybe run us into a tree.

“Lila,” I say. She doesn’t answer. “Lila, sweetheart, come on, wake up.”

I lean over the console and put my arms around her. I’ve never wanted a woman to wake up as badly as I want her to, right now. I can’t kiss her with the oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth, but I want to. I want to badly enough that I remove my own. The best I can do is nuzzle her neck under her ear.

The aroma of her skin sends shards of white and colored light straight to my brain, jolting me awake. I inhale her gain and the sense memory makes me dizzy. Or is it the lack of oxygen? I put my mask back on and draw down hard on some brain-defuzzing oxygen.

I pick up Lila’s small hand in my bear paw and hold it. A wash of - I don’t know what it is honestly. It’s more than my usual caring for the victims of fire though. Something more intense, that hits me deep in my gut. I push that shit aside because really I should be furious with her. If she’d only co-operated from the beginning, she and I, even the fucking dog, would be safe in town by now.

The rumble of thunder nearby rattles the truck’s windows, and Lila flinches. She’s coming around. A few more seconds pass before a tremendous crack rocks us. The flash is blinding, and it’s followed by louder thunder less than three seconds later. I know that the strike was no more than half a mile away. I peer out the front window, hoping against hope that the rain will begin any moment and clear the visibility. But it doesn’t.

“Shawn?” Lila whimpers at my side.

“Hey, sweetheart!” I blurt, before I can stop myself. “Welcome back.”

She’s staring at me with a slight frown, her eyes midway between the striking green of normal and the brown of furious. They look like a cat’s eyes, with pupils so wide I could dive in, oxygen tank and all.

“What’s happening?” she whispers.

“We’re waiting for rain, or for you to wake up. Looks like you win,” I quip.

“Why?” she asks.

“I can’t see the road. I need a navigator or for the rain to knock this smoke down.”

“Oh.”

She still seems a little disoriented, but at least she knows my name. That means she’s in the here and now.Not living in the past, I hope.

“Shawn?”

“Yeah babe?”

“Did we…?” She frowns again, battling to remember something.

“What Babe?”

Her eyes snap up at me accusingly, as I use that term on her.

“Oh, my God, this is sooo embarrassing. Did we-?” She trails off again.

“Did we have sex?”

I don’t want to piss her off, so I manage to temper the cruder word I would have used. Those eyes gaze at me pleadingly. What does she want me to say?

“Yeah, I’m afraid we did.”

“Afraid?” She frowns.

Women - I’ll never understand them.

“Was it bad?” she snaps.

“Fuck, no!” I can’t help myself for that one. And I’m grinning, no doubt cockily, she’d say but It was so not bad.

I lean over and cup her face with my dirty hand.

“It was perfect and amazing,” I husk then add, again unable to stop myself blurting out shit it seems: “Like you.”

“Why are we wearing oxygen masks?” she asks.

Fucking unbelievable. Has she totally forgotten the last half-hour?

“Where’s Mr. Pete?” The goofy smile on my face dies. She sees the change in my expression, and her eyes go wide. “Oh, my God!” She starts fumbling with the door handle.

“Wait, Lila! You can’t get out. The oxygen you’re wearing is keeping you alive!”

“I have to find him, Shawn. Please! I cannot leave him to die all alone.”

“He’s already gone, honey.” I soften my voice as much as I can. “I’m so sorry. But we aren’t going to make it either, if you don’t pull yourself together. I need you to help me with any curves or twists in the road. Visibility is about at the front bumper, and that’s it.”

She starts crying. At first, it’s just a slow trickle of tears running down her sooty face, leaving a heartbreaking track over those soft cheeks that used to be all rosy. Soon, though, her nose is red and great, gulping sobs envelop her. I lean across the console to comfort her, but our masks are in the way. I don’t want her to take hers off for even a second, and it’s getting bad enough I don’t take mine off, either.

“Come on, sweetheart. Every minute we’re here is a minute less we have to live. It’s going to be okay now, I promise.”