She swung the extinguisher at him again and he backed farther away. Hands over his head, he danced away from the freezing retardant. “You can go at me if you want, or you can trust me!” he yelled. “I’m here to help.”
“I don’t know you!”
“And I don’t know you, either, but you’ve got a helluva problem.”
A ceiling beam in the shed gave way and with a groan the roof caved in. Sparks erupted into the night. The stranger was right. There wasn’t much time.
“You’d better leave now,” he ordered, motioning to the extinguisher. “That isn’t going to do much.”
“It’ll have to!” she declared, heading for the door of the stable. He was right on her heels, but kept his distance, aware that she could shoot him with
CO2 should she decide to.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting the stock out.” She grabbed the handle of the door and yanked it open. From inside came the frightened sounds of horses whinnying and whistling. Hooves pummelled the straw-covered floor of the box stalls and over it all the fire raged hot and high, boiling loudly. “Who did you say you were?”
“Doesn’t matter. Really, you should get out of here. This whole place, the buildings, the trees, the grass, could go up in a matter of seconds.”
“I will.”
“I mean now!”
“I can’t!” She didn’t have time to argue. Rounding on him, she saw his features in the gold reflection of the flames and wondered again who he was, this tall man with broad shoulders, intense eyes and features that looked as if they’d been carved out of granite. He stared down a nose that looked as if it had been broken at least once. “We don’t have time,” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Either you help me, or you get the hell out of my way.”
“What can I do?”
She didn’t think twice. “Go to the next building, it’s the kennel,” she ordered, pointing at the long, low building wedged between the stable and garage. “Let the dogs out, okay? I don’t care where they go, just get them the hell out of there!”
He was already turning.
“There’s an extinguisher by the door. After you set the dogs free, use the extinguisher on whatever you can, then crank up the garden hose. It’s attached to the west wall of the house!”
“Got it!”
She stepped through the door into the pandemonium of the stable.
Horses were rearing, screaming in terror as the smoke blew into the stable. Through the windows she saw the fire, growing and billowing higher, reaching toward the sky with wild, hellish fingers, casting blood-red shadows that leapt and jumped inside the stables. Its sound was a distant, background roar.
Still carrying the extinguisher she slapped at the light switch. Nothing happened. “Damn it!” She swatted it again, to no avail. Sweating, she jogged the length of the corridor that separated the two rows of stalls.
The horses were in a froth, legs striking the stalls, eyes wide, white-rimmed and rolling. The odors of urine and dung mixed with the scents of sweat and fear and the overpowering, ever-present smell of smoke.
“Shh,” she said to the animals in a soothing voice, the lie coming easily, “it’s all right.”
Where the hell were the fire trucks?
She flipped the light switch at this end of the building.
Again nothing happened.
“Hell.”
She’d just have to work in the dark. She didn’t have time to try and find a flashlight, knew the building like the back of her hand anyway.
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!
She eased along the wall. By feel, she unlatched the wide, double doors to the paddock and shoved hard. They flew open. Banged against the exterior walls.