Walk Through the Fire (Finley Creek Book 10)

by Calle J. Brookes

  “At least they are both former TSP.”

  “They’re all we have.”

  Those were words Turner would hear far too many times in the next several hours. But his city was pulling together to make what they had work.

  They would pull through this.

  No matter what Turner had to do to see that it happened.

  12

  The hospital looked like a warzone.

  It wasn’t the first hospital Carl had seen almost destroyed. Just like overseas, the people who worked the hospital were rushing around everywhere. They looked like ants from a distance.

  Carl’s curse slipped out before he could stop it.

  The new ER, built just in the last ten years, was almost leveled. Only the back third of the ER annex still stood. He hoped to high heaven no one had been in the front part of the ER when the storm had hit. But that was probably a foolish wish.

  There had to have been people in there. Patients, staff, someone.

  People had no doubt died there today.

  Jimmy had woken twice on the long drive to the hospital, screaming for his daddy. His mother had died three years ago from complications from MS. It was just Jimmy, a teenaged sister, a younger sister, and their father.

  Dayton Martin was a good man. Carl had long admired how hard the man worked as the principal of Jason’s school.

  He prayed the other man and his daughters were safe. Somewhere.

  No doubt Dayton was out there somewhere, looking for his son. Carl would take the boys to the hospital, and then he’d have someone find Jimmy’s father.

  The boy needed his father with him right now.

  He yanked the car into the parking lot—what remained of it.

  There were men and women setting up canvas tents in the parking lot already.

  Wearing camouflage. No doubt the armory had sent over who they could spare.

  Those tents were going to become makeshift exam bays.

  Carl was first out of the car, yanking the backdoor open.

  There was a man, a soldier, running nearby.

  Carl stepped into his path. “Please! I need help! I can’t carry him by myself.”

  The man stopped.

  Together, they got Jimmy and Jason to the line. People with blood and injuries were everywhere.

  The soldier next to him called to another, a woman, nearby. “Petra! I got a pre-teen, impalement. Move him to the front of the line. Now!”

  The man moved mountains for Jimmy in the next few moments, until Jimmy and Jason were being ushered into a tent with the COM of the hospital and his little redheaded wife.

  Carl had never been so happy to see someone he recognized in his life. He and Rafe Holden-Deane had butted heads more times than they had agreed. But the man was a damned fine physician, trained in both trauma care and pediatrics. He’d earned himself a fine reputation in worldwide venues, even Djibouti, Africa, where the man had almost died in a bombing of a hospital.

  Rafe had been dug out of the rubble, then gone on to run the hospital for the next two weeks, until UN help could arrive to relieve him.

  Rafe Holden-Deane knew what he was doing. Of that, Carl had no doubts.

  He had hired the man, after all.

  He’d also been instrumental in hiring Rafe Holden-Deane’s identical twin brother. That brother had earned his stripes in an army hospital halfway across the globe and was just as good a physician as his brother.

  Those two could get their hospitals through anything.

  Dr. Holden-Deane was already leaning over Jimmy, as his wife started cutting off the mud-soaked clothing. She looked at Carl. “Deputy Mayor Buchanan, Dr. Henedy, and Cherise, our nursing supervisor, are waiting in the tent next door to take a look at this young man. Or Lacy Deane and Courtney are, to the other side of us.”

  No nonsense, that one. Thank heaven.

  “We’ll be with Dr. Deane.” She might only be a resident or a fellow—he never kept up with the young ones—but she had a reputation already. One that was a thousand times more promising than Wallace Henedy’s. Carl would never willingly let that man look at his grandson. He’d not even let Wallace look at Brutus, Jason’s hamster. Carl put one hand on Jason’s shoulder and led him to the next tent over.

  Jason balked, not wanting to leave Jimmy. Dr. Holden-Deane’s wife solved the problem with a promise. She’d keep Jason updated every chance she could. But for now, his friend needed him to get taken care of, too. Because Jimmy was going to need him later.

  13

  Turner needed to speak with Elliot Marshall about the TSP’s safety plans for the event of major disasters. That was going to have to be found at the hospital. He finally made his way back there, after another news conference and two more stops along the way.

  Gabby Marshall was pacing the hallway. She paused when she saw him coming. “No. Go away, Turner. He’s getting his head examined.”

  She had a black eye forming.

  “How did you get the shiner, Gab?” Gabby Marshall was around the age of twenty-five or so, blond and gorgeous, and as sweet as any woman he’d ever met. But her blue eyes reminded him of Annie’s in that moment. Fear for that woman hadn’t left him since he’d watched Jillian and Rafe Holden-Deane wheel her away.

  “Tripped on my way to the hall closet. I was alone at the ranch. We had minimal damage with a few windows. Elliot will be able to fix it later.” Her breath hitched. “Once we get through this.”

  It was obvious she was holding herself together for her husband’s sake. Everyone who knew her knew Gabby Marshall had a tendency to panic. Over everything. “And we will. I need to talk to him, Gab.”

  “He didn’t want them to keep him, but Lacy is insisting. He was hit pretty hard. They had to dig him out.”

  And Gabby was about to cry. No doubt again. Gabby was a crier. Turner squeezed her shoulder. “He’s got one of the hardest heads I know, Gab. I promise. I just need to know if he has a backup copy of that emergency plan he was working on a few months ago.”

  They’d overhauled the city’s plan shortly after Turner had taken office. About the time they’d updated the 911 system. All of Turner’s copies were lost and destroyed. If the servers could be found, it would take days to get access to what he need again.

  “I…you can ask him. Fifteen minutes. That’s it. And only because of the situation. Don’t push your luck.” She shot him a meaningful glare from gorgeous blue eyes. Even a concussion wouldn’t be allowed to stop the chief now. Not when he was needed. Any more than a strained back and a multitude of bruises could stop Turner.

  14

  Elliot Marshall looked like he’d been through a warzone. No doubt because he had. He had been right in the center of his post when it had been hit, from what reports were saying.

  Elliot had covered an elderly woman with his own body when she’d rushed into the TSP post looking for shelter from the storm. She’d reportedly had a heart attack before rescuers could pull her and the chief free. She wasn’t expected to recover. Another victim of the worst storm to hit Finley Creek in history.

  “Heard you took a knock to the head,” Turner started.

  Elliot gave a half-shrug. “Heard you were buried alive.”

  “Yeah. Not my best moments. Met a really pretty girl, though.”

  “Do I know her?” Elliot sat up in the bed. More from pure stubbornness than anything. Turner got it, though. They were men with important things to do. “Maybe I can warn her about you.”

  “Annie. Annie Gaines.” Turner sank into the chair next to the bed. “She works here at this hospital. She took the worst of things. Still here somewhere. I’m going to find her next and just make certain she’ll be ok.”

  Elliot swore. “Hell, Annie’s a good friend of Gabby and Brynna’s. How badly was she hurt? She going to make it?”

  Turner swallowed. That was a question he had refused to let himself think about. “Impaled. We were on our way to the basement. She’s probably going to pull through, the p
aramedic said. Last I saw her, she was with Jillian.”

  “You check on her, and let me know. I don’t know if Gabby knows.” Elliot winced as he shifted. Turner got the impression he was ready to climb out of the bed and get back out there. “She’ll want to check on all her friends. Brynna and Mel—”

  “Are setting up social media contact systems for the city at the Barratt. Using Houghton’s satellites for Barratt-Handley.” Turner took out his phone and checked again. “Towers are still down.”

  “Chance isn’t going to be too far from Brynna. I heard from him a few hours ago, but nothing since. Brynna’s terrified of tornadoes. He won’t want to be too far away from her and the baby.”

  “It’s chaos out there, El. I’m not so certain what I’m supposed to do. I’m needed out there in front of the people. What in the hell are we supposed to do now?”

  “I know.” Elliot was quiet for a moment. “I have five people still missing. Plus, Clay and Bailey.”

  “Death toll is close to forty, and rising,” Turner said. He’d made contact with his younger brother. Tucker was fine, hadn’t even been in town when the storm had hit. He was back now—out searching for Clay. Tucker had search-and-rescue training, and it was being put to use now. His brother was a bloodhound when on the trail of something. He wouldn’t stop until their cousin had been found. Trevor was off in some South American jungle somewhere and probably didn’t even know of the storm.

  “Hundreds, possibly more than a thousand injured. Untold missing. Marc Deane’s waiting until we can get up in the air to assess the damage before making the call to FEMA. And there are more rainstorms headed this way. I’m giving the order to close the county roads unless it’s a bona fide medical emergency. They’re talking flooding now on the side roads.”

  Elliot nodded. “I’ve got my people hooking up back-up generators from Mason and surrounding counties. That should get our radios back online. Right now, we’re flying dark.”

  It had only been seven hours since the storm had hit. “I’ll be making another news appearance in the morning. I’d like it if you could be there.”

  “I will—”

  “If Lacy says he can,” a firm, feminine voice said behind him. The guard-wife had caught him overstaying his welcome. And Gabby wasn’t happy.

  Turner bit back a wince. There were more important things to worry about than upsetting Elliot’s wife. She’d just have to get over it.

  “I need him out there. The city…we need as many of us in prominent positions in front of the people as we can get. Let people in the city know that we are still here, even with our basic infrastructure having taken such a hit.”

  “I get it,” Gabby said. “But I’m not stupid. Neither are you. The storm was just where it started. It’s going to get crazy out there in the next weeks. Elliot will be more use to the city then, than now. You have McKellan and Callum and Evers and MacNamara and Erickson to help you right now. Elliot can have one—” her voice broke. Elliot held out a hand and his wife snuggled close to his side. “He can have one night to sleep. So he can do his job in the morning.” She took another look at Turner. “I suggest you do the same. You can’t lead the city if you’re dead on your feet. When was the last time you even took a drink? Washed your face?”

  Turner stepped toward the door to the attached bath. And swore. There was a streak of dirt—and blood—on his cheek. Annie’s blood. His hand shook when he touched it. “I must have missed it when I cleaned up after being checked out downstairs.”

  Elliot squeezed Gabby tighter, wrapping his arm around his wife and pulling her close. “Turner was trapped in city hall for a while, Gab. With Annie Gaines.”

  Gabby’s eyes widened. “Is Annie ok?”

  “She was hurt, but I think they said she’ll be ok.” Turner ran the water for a moment. Pressure was almost nonexistent, but it was enough to wet a paper towel and wash his face. “I’m heading up to see her now.”

  “After you do—do yourself a favor, Turner. Get some sleep yourself. It’s going to be even worse at first light. I’ll meet you just before dawn.”

  15

  People had died on his watch. Turner didn’t take that lightly. While he and Annie had been trapped in the first level of city hall, with three floors of debris on top of them, others had been dying. Both security guards had escaped two hours after Turner, free of injury. They’d been trapped in the basement that hadn’t been touched. The first floor had held everything just fine.

  Had it not, he and Annie would have been crushed.

  Just how lucky he and the woman in the bed had gotten wasn’t lost on him.

  That didn’t stop him from feeling like the entire world had changed, like the world had turned into a warzone unlike any he’d ever seen before. He’d driven around the city for hours after leaving Elliot’s room. He’d finally made his way back to Annie.

  War zone was a tame descriptor for what his city looked like now.

  And all had looked to him for answers. Answers Turner didn’t have.

  Halfway through the hours, he’d been joined by an exhausted Marcus Deane. The Texas governor had a busted lip and a black eye—but that had come after the storm, when he’d had to slam on the brakes to avoid loose cattle in the road and smashed into his steering wheel. The two of them had driven up and down each street of the city after that, just taking stock.

  Neither had said much as the number of blocks they’d driven had climbed. There wasn’t much to say.

  A quarter of the city easily was gone, destroyed. Another quarter had sustained significant damage. Minimal-to-moderate damage areas surrounded those.

  There wasn’t a home or building untouched that he’d seen.

  His city would never be the same.

  He fully expected the governor to declare a state of emergency within hours. As soon as first light hit, no doubt Marcus would.

  He’d stopped by Finley Creek Gen to grab a cup of coffee and finally check on Annie. He’d been trying to get five minutes at her side, but it had taken him hours to do it.

  She’d been on his mind since the moment she’d been wheeled away.

  Turner just stood there in the middle of the hospital room, staring at her like an idiot.

  She blinked, obviously still weak and exhausted, then slipped into sleep as he watched. He looked at Izzie, a casual acquaintance he’d met through his cousin Houghton’s wife. “How is she doing?”

  The monitors were all that showed Annie was still alive.

  Turner wanted to touch her. To feel her skin beneath his fingers, to watch her breathe.

  “Why exactly are you here, Turner?” Dr. Allen Jacobson asked quietly. He’d been Annie’s surgeon tonight.

  He and the older man had been friends since college, casually. They’d hung out together, played on the baseball team at FCU, then drifted apart as life and different paths took hold. He’d always liked Allen, for the most part. Trusted him to tell him the straight truth.

  “Truth? I’m hiding. I needed a break from what was…out there. And I just need to know she’s going to be ok.” He wasn’t ready to sever that tie just yet. Not just yet.

  Allen wasn’t a fool. And he was studying Turner like he knew exactly what was going on in Turner’s head. “You shouldn’t be in here without permission. Legally. I’d think you’d know that.”

  “Then she can give me permission.” Turner looked at his primary ally in the room. “Nurse Izzie likes me. We went for coffee once. What do you say, Iz? Can I hide in here with you for a while? Keep you company? I’ll buy you dinner again at the Barratt…”

  He’d shared a sweet kiss with the little dark-eyed elf before they’d realized they were better friends than lovers. That was right after Houghton and Mel had gotten married, and Mel had invited Izzie and a few other women to Houghton’s one night. It had been a matchmaking venture. They’d both known it. Been open to it. They’d joked about Mel because of it. It had been like kissing a kid sister, if he’d had one.


  Izzie was just that cute and feisty.

  “It was the best date I’ve had in a long while.” He sent Izzie a hopeful look. She’d snip and snap like the best of them, but she was a big softie underneath. He’d figured out Izadora MacNamara fast. “Pretty please, Iz? I’ll be good. I promise. Let me sit with her for a while. I...we have some unfinished business.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think you do.” She stared at him a minute, but he knew he had her. It was that softie thing, after all. She sighed. “For a little while.”

  Turner stayed much longer than that, long after Izzie curled up in her own bed and fell asleep, sooner than he suspected she’d intended. Izzie flipped around like a fish out of water, more than anyone he’d ever seen. It was in stark contrast to her two roommates, who lay quiet and almost unmoving.

  Another man was in the room part of the time. A doctor, but from a neighboring county. He hovered over the woman in the third bed—a woman Turner had also met before. One who never stopped talking. Well, she’d stopped talking now.

  He and Turner played cards and talked about what was most likely to happen for the area next. Caine, the doctor, knew his stuff. He’d spent time overseas. He’d seen massive disasters before. And had insight he’d freely shared with Turner.

  Turner would admit it. It helped him center some of what he had to focus on now.

  His time in Annie’s room was going to be the only oasis of peace Turner would get.

  The three women were the closest of friends; Caine promised to keep an eye on Annie for him. It was probably as good as it was going to get. Turner liked that he wouldn’t be leaving her there alone, that there were people who cared about her right there with her. Leaving her was still harder than he ever would have imagined.

  He gave her one last look, then stepped out of the room to do what he had to do.

  16