Page 81 of Backdraft
He burst through the front door, startling Cinder, who took off like a shot.
"Oh, Taylor," I cried. He sat beside me, pulling me into the security of his arms. "Why would they let him go?"
"I don't know, honey. But it will all be okay." He crooned in my ear, holding me tightly, and I began to relax into him.
My arm hurt, and I had to shift out of his hug to look at him. "I'm worried he knows I live here with you and will do something."
"He wouldn't dare." A fierce expression on his face.
I nodded. "Yes, he would. We have to check the house.”
Taylor helped me up.
"What would we look for?" he asked while gazing around the room.
"My suspicion is he'll use what works for him." I picked up the walking stick.
"Linseed oil," Taylor said.
"Yes. We need to look for a pile of rags. They could be in a box shoved in a corner or under something. It could be pretty much anywhere. After a few hours, the rags will spontaneously combust. I think we should hurry and check. Time is running out.
"I'll take the basement, and you look here, then we can go upstairs." Taylor took control, and I was happy to let him.
"I was sleeping most of the day. He couldn't have come inside, could he?" Alarm rang in my voice. I took a deep breath and stepped toward Taylor. "The kitchen door was unlocked. What if he came in and I had no idea. He could have started a fire while I was sleeping."
He placed his hands on my shoulders. "Shh, calm down, honey. Let's focus on finding those rags. I’m going to call this in as well. Just in case."
I nodded, swallowed, and gripped the walking stick firmer.
"O-okay, what you said is a good idea. You go check, and I'll look around here."
I didn't think there would be anything concerning on the main floor, but I still looked under the kitchen sink, in the broom closet, and laundry room. I was about to go to the pantry when I smelled smoke. I spun around, screaming for Taylor at the same time.
He came bounding up the stairs before I even got to the kitchen door leading to the wraparound porch.
"Smoke. I'll get the hose," I instructed him. And just like that, my fear, lack of confidence, and fragility vanished. I was me again. I had a purpose, and even with a bum arm and a broken thumb and foot, I had to handle this, or we could have a big fire on our hands.
We raced outside, well, I hobbled, and didn't have to look far for the origin of the smoke. It was starting to billow from a stack of wood leaning against the wall of the house.
"Douse it!" I yelled just as the first flame popped up through the logs.
I heard sirens from fire engines as we did our best to knock the logs away from the house and hose down the developing fire.
"Stay back, Drea. I don't want you getting burned again. Your bandage could ignite. Please just get back," Taylor told me, and I knew he was right.
The adrenaline rush was starting to fade, and I'd never been gladder to hear sirens and the screech of tires as the firetrucks and police cars pulled up to the house.
Taylor was losing control of the building flames, and I feared the worst. They were licking up the wall and starting to fan under the porch roof. It was like a tinderbox and could go up quickly.
Then a stream of water struck the roof and wall. A firefighter shouted for Taylor to stand aside, but a little too late, and he was hit by the spray.
He fell over and pushed himself to his feet. He came to stand by me and watch while they knocked down the fire.
"Are you okay?" I asked him. "I know how water from the hose can hurt when it hits you."
He glanced at me, looking puzzled, then back at the crew as they quickly got the fire out.
The lieutenant walked over as he spoke into his radio. "Hey, Tay," he said reaching to shake his hand. "What the hell?" He hitched his thumb behind him at the fire scene. "Grilling mishap?"
