Here With Me

“No!” I scream again. “Mindy!”

Dashing to my truck, I hit the ground, crawling under the bed to where the spare tire is located. Feeling around, I find the crowbar and rip it out of the holder before scooting out again and running to the door.

I close my eyes to avoid the shards and bash the doors over and over until they finally give way, and I’m able to push my way inside. From a distance, I hear the noise of sirens. Without hesitating, I race into the office, but I don’t see Mindy.

“Mindy?” I shout through the black.

Her purse is on the desk. Her car is out front, but I don’t see her keys anywhere. Then I realize the source of the smoke… I remember the first day I was here, when I had my near-panic attack. I was too foggy to remember what she said… paint supplies, old rags. Fuck!

I look down the narrow hall to where the small door is closed, and my heartrate spikes. Nausea twists my stomach, and my breath quickens. In this very moment I push back against the trauma trying to hammer me. My girl is in danger, and I’m not stopping.

Forcing one foot in front of the other, I move faster until I’m in front of the wooden barrier. Again, I turn the knob, and it won’t budge. What the fuck with the doors in this place? I take a step back and slam my shoulder against it. It shudders and groans, and I do it again and again until finally, it flies open.

Heat slams me in the face like opening the door of an oven. Squinting my eyes, I bend down, searching everywhere until I see her. Mindy is lying on the floor in a heap with her face turned to me. My chest seizes, and I rush forward, dropping to my knees and gently scooping her into my arms. Coughing, I rise to my feet again, the chemicals burning my eyes. I’m already having a hard time breathing, and I don’t know how long she’s been in here.

Sirens flash blinding red-and-blue lights as I stagger into the main room toward the entrance. Firefighters surge past me as I step through the shattered glass doors.

A man catches me by the arm. “Sawyer, it’s me, Eric.” I’m light-headed, but I recognize him as an EMS worker I’ve met before. “Can you carry her over here?”

I can do anything for her.

Still, as I get closer to the truck, my head gets light. “Something’s wrong.” I start to say, and I’m surrounded by another, beefier EMS worker.

He catches me under the other arm and helps me sit on the bumper of their truck. Eric takes Mindy into the back, and the new guy straps an oxygen mask onto my face.

“Inhale deep. Chemical fires are more dangerous than regular smoke. They can bind to your lungs and cause them to swell and block oxygen.”

He’s describing death by smoke inhalation to me, and I power through my own symptoms. I’m on my feet, but he stands just as fast.

“Hold on, soldier.” I don’t even bother correcting him.

Ripping off the mask, I explain, “I’ve got to get in there. I need to be beside her.”

My balance is screwed, and I fall back against the door of the truck. The guy holds my arm, studying my face.

Panic filters through my chest, and I try to lift my leg to climb inside. “I have to be near her.”

Finally, he moves. He helps me to where Mindy is lying on her back on a gurney with an oxygen mask over her beautiful face. Her eyes are closed, and Eric is strapping monitors to her.

“How long was she inside?” He’s clearly worried, and I feel panic gripping my insides.

“I don’t know. We had a meeting scheduled for one.”

“Her heartrate is good. We’ll have to see if she responds to stimuli.”

The big guy hands me a bottle of water. “You need to drink.”

“Thanks.” I take the bottle, thinking.

I was only in there for five minutes, tops. She was in there at least five minutes longer… probably more. Falling to my knees, I rub my palm across my eyes.

“Mindy?” My voice is hoarse, but I try to speak soothing words. “Wake up, baby. It’s me, Sawyer.”

Reaching down, I slide my hand into her limp one. I put my palm against hers and lift it to my lips. “It’s me… I’m holding your hand like I said I would.”

Eric puts his hand on my shoulder. “We’re going to take her to the hospital.”

“I’m riding with her.”