Accident?
Arson?
The security system hadn’t alerted him to any breaches, and he’d set up the TV in the basement to display real-time footage of the cameras at both the back and front doors.
But what were the chances that right when someone was stalking Naomi her house suddenly accidentally caught fire?
Bypassing the living room, dining room, den, study, and theatre room, Sam beelined straight for the staircase leading to the second floor. The flames followed him, spreading from the back of the house to the front.
He had to get Naomi out.
He couldn’t lose her.
Upstairs the smoke was thick, making it difficult to see and breathe. Sam barely noticed the lack of oxygen, all he was focused on was getting to Naomi.
At her door, he jiggled the handle, but it was still locked.
That wasn't stopping him this time. Earlier he’d debated simply breaking down her door and forcing her to talk to him, but he’d resisted, worried about upsetting her further. Now he couldn’t care less about upsetting her.
Taking a step back, he rammed his shoulder into the door, causing it to splinter.
Naomi was lying on the bed.
She wasn't moving.
He would have panicked only he wasn't really the type of guy to panic. Even so he was coming pretty close.
The room was so full of smoke it was difficult to see.
The possibility that Naomi had already succumbed to smoke inhalation was real.
He didn’t remember moving, the next thing he knew he was simply at her side.
“Naomi?”
She didn’t respond, but when he touched his fingers to her neck, he felt her pulse thumping beneath them.
Snatching her up into his arms he fled.
The smoke and lack of oxygen were starting to affect him. His eyes burned, his throat felt raw, and his chest tight. It took more energy than it should have to clamber back down the stairs. The fire was everywhere now, bit by bit methodically claiming every inch of the house until it destroyed it. A mass of yellow, orange, and red flames were leaping about, their dancelike movements mesmerizing. Tearing his gaze away from them, he kept Naomi tight against his chest as he carefully made his way through the pockets of fire to get to the front door.
Outside he paused to draw in several deep mouthfuls of fresh air. His smoke-clogged lungs protested, and he burst into fits of uncontrollable coughing. After a moment it eased, and he dragged in a couple more breaths then carried Naomi further away from the raging inferno her house was quickly turning into.
As the warmth of the fire faded with distance and the cold winter air washed over her, Naomi stirred in his arms. She gasped, her eyelashes fluttered on her sooty cheeks, then she began to cough. Long, harsh, hacking coughs that made her entire body shudder.
Suddenly drained, Sam sunk to his knees, still clutching Naomi against him. He realized he’d left his phone in the basement. He couldn’t call for help, and Naomi was in desperate need of medical attention. Her nearest neighbor was almost a mile away, he couldn’t leave Naomi alone, but he wasn't sure he could make it carrying her, he was shaking almost as badly as she was.
After several minutes, Naomi’s breathing began to settle, and her eyes fully opened, dazed and confused.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice rough from the smoke.
She tried to speak but could only cough some more.
“All right, just try to breathe.” He was just about to pick her back up and start walking when he heard sirens in the distance. Help was coming.
Naomi must have heard them, too, because she lifted her head from his shoulder and clutched his sweater. “I smell smoke,” she rasped. “House. My house. On fire.”
“Help is coming.”