Lone Survivor

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  Hunter staggered but managed to keep his feet. He turned to find that Karissa had fallen down. He grabbed her, pulled her back into the theater room and slammed the door. His gaze ravaged their environment for an escape route. The good news? Apparently, nothing in the theater room was rigged to explode. The bad news? This room was purposely designed with no windows. There was no escape route.

  FOURTEEN

  Karissa moved to the outer wall of the theater room, coughing as smoke began seeping beneath the door.

  “Hunter, over there.” She pointed toward a throw blanket that was folded over one of the theater seats.

  With a nod, he snatched it and stuffed the cloth into the gap between the door panel and the floor, drastically reducing the amount of smoke that entered the relatively small area. At best, the measure would only delay the inevitable if they didn’t find a way to get out of the house.

  “What are our options?” Her gaze searched his face as he returned to her.

  “I’m working on it,” he said, but the bleakness in his eyes told her there wasn’t much of anything to work on.

  She leaned her head into his sturdy chest. Even though they were once again in a life-threatening situation, his presence brought her comfort.

  Karissa lifted her head. “Hunter, I care about you. I—”

  Her declaration was cut off by the soft touch of his lips on hers. She closed her eyes and savored the tender sensation. Then it was gone. She opened her eyes to find he had stepped back.

  He frowned and looked away from her. “I’m sorry, I just had to do that before...”

  “I know.” Her words came out soft and breathless. “Don’t be sorry. Not for anything. I wish we had more time to find out what might have together.”

  “Me, too.” He shot her a lopsided grin. “But let’s not go out without a fight.”

  “Never!”

  “I just got an idea.”

  He strode over to the side wall near the projection booth, drew up his knee and extended his leg in a flat-footed kick. The drywall cracked and, in the place where his heel had hit, it had punctured beneath the onslaught.

  Karissa caught her breath. “Genius! The utility room is on the other side. I almost never went in there, and I don’t remember if there are windows or not, but it’s a chance.”

  Hunter grabbed another throw blanket, ripping off two sections. He kept one and handed the other to her. “Tie it around your mouth and nose. Get to the far corner near the screen and hunker down. When this wall opens up, it’s going to admit smoke.”

  Karissa obeyed every word. As she crouched in the corner, sweat dripped into Karissa’s eyes, but she blinked the moisture away and kept her eyes on Hunter.

  He put on his own improvised mouth and nose bandanna and continued his assault on the drywall, kicking holes in it and ripping chunks away. At last, there was a gaping space between the well-lit theater room and the dimness of the area beyond. As predicted, acrid smoke rippled into the theater room. However, all that stood between them and the possibilities in the next room were some wall studs and electrical wires. Ducking beneath the wires, Hunter squeezed himself sideways between the wooden studs and disappeared from view.

  “You were right,” he called out from the darkness. “It’s a utility room—furnace, water heater, that sort of thing. I can’t tell yet if there are any windows.”

  Karissa had to strain to make out his words with his voice muffled by his face covering and the intensifying roar of the fire outside their door and overhead. The whole house seemed to groan as it was eaten by the flames. Several distinct creaks and cracks sounded from the floorboards above. The ceiling could rain fiery debris down on them any time.

  “Come quickly.” Hunter’s voice reached her ears. “I’ve found a sink with running water.”

  Had the smoke addled her firefighter’s brain? What was a sink full of water going to accomplish against this inferno?

  Nevertheless, she complied, scuttling stooped over beneath the worst of the smoke to the opening between the rooms. Even as she squeezed through into the utility room, the smoke was lessening. How had that happened?

  “I soaked the rest of that other throw blanket in water and stuffed it against the door gap,” Hunter explained as though he’d heard her question. “A wet barrier is way more effective than a dry one.”

  He took her arm and pulled her over to a deep utility sink. “Wet your face covering and stay hunkered down near the floor while I continue to try to locate a window. If—no, when I do, I’m going to break it with this.” He hefted a long-handled broom he must have found lying around. “Be ready to move quickly.”

  The light from the theater room only pierced the gloom in the utility area about halfway across it. And even that illumination swirled with gray tendrils of smoke. Suddenly, all light winked out.

  “We’ve lost power. Bound to happen sooner or later.”

  Hunter’s voice carried to Karissa’s ears as if from a great distance. Was she losing consciousness? In the pitch blackness, the last flutter of hope left her heart.

  Then glass shattered.

  “Here, hidden behind the furnace. Stupid place to put a window. Follow the sound of my voice.”

  Coughing, Karissa forced lethargic limbs to obey, but the nearer she crawled toward Hunter’s continued calls for her, the more her head cleared. A breeze stirred around her. Fresh air. And a sound besides roaring fire met her ears. Sirens. Right here on the property and more approaching. And light, too. Whirling strobes of red and white poured through a small rectangular window high up in the basement wall.

  Strong hands grasped her and pulled her upright.

  “I’m going to lift you up,” Hunter told her. “Pull yourself out, but be careful for any bits of glass the broom failed to clear from the frame. Ready?”

  She nodded then realized Hunter might not be able to make out the gesture.

  “Yes!” she cried, joy sending her heart rate into a wild jig.

  They were going to make it. The enemy hadn’t won after all.

  Time seemed to compress as Hunter made a step of his locked hands and lifted her up to the lifesaving opening. With careful hands, she plucked a few bits of glass from the window frame and then pulled herself out into the night. Bitter stench tainted the air from all sorts of burning structural substances, but nothing like the smothering smoke inside. An uncomfortable level of heat radiated down on her from the engorged flames pouring out of the first floor, but the heat and flames surged skyward, not downward.

  She stood on the soft grass of her once-upon-a-time backyard. Her childhood home was engulfed, but nothing wrenched her insides about its loss. She’d long ago said goodbye to the place. Now, she waited eagerly for one of the only things she cared about in this earth to squirm out of the death trap to freedom after her. The window wasn’t so high he couldn’t reach the frame and pull himself up and out.

  But no one emerged.

  “Hunter!” she cried. “Hurry up.”

  “Go, Karissa!” his rag-muffled voice answered.

  “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “You’ll have to... Karissa, I can’t fit through that little window.”

  His words stopped her heart. She’d known it in the back of her mind as she barely squeezed herself out, but she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the truth.

  “Go! Help law enforcement get that baby back from those crooks. You two are the legacy I’m leaving the world.”

  Sobbing, Karissa ran toward the emergency service vehicles parked in the driveway.

  * * *

  Thanking God, Hunter turned his back to the wall and leaned against it. The outdoor air washed down over him from the window overhead, pushing away the smoke but stoking the fire that had now breached the door of the utility room and was poking brilliant fingers into the dark space, searching for fodder t
o consume. The cement floor offered no fuel, but the drywall drew the flames. Heat radiated toward him in waves, but fire held no terrors for him. He’d fought it and won too many times. The only instance it overcame him, it had had the unfair advantage of sabotaged equipment. And now he knew that he hadn’t been to blame for Anissa’s death. He still ached for Karissa’s loss of her sister, but his conscience was clear. He could only believe he’d been spared at that time in order for him to come to this moment of saving Karissa. Surely, that was blessing enough for one lifetime.

  He coughed as the fresh air began to fight a losing battle with toxic house fire fumes. His legs weakened, and he slid down the wall into a squat. The pain of that motion scraping against the bullet graze on his back preserved his consciousness a little longer.

  God, please make sure Marshall Siebender and his wife are brought to justice and Kyle finds a home in Karissa’s arms.

  The evil husband and wife had to be scurrying to cover their tracks, not realizing that one of their intended victims had survived to tell the story. Probably that was Hunter’s biggest regret—not seeing the looks on their faces when they were called to account.

  A trickle of something wet landed on his head and dripped down his face. What in the world? He looked up and received a face and body drenching from a garden hose being let through the broken window.

  A grizzled male face followed the hose. “Officer Dan Pritchet here,” the man said, grinning down at him. “Your girlfriend told us where to find this hose and a hookup from an outbuilding. That water stream won’t put the blaze out, but it should hold it at bay until we can knock this window hole bigger with a pair of sledgehammers we’ve got out here. Go to work, Fireman.”

  Heart leaping, Hunter struggled to his feet, grabbed the hose and trained the strong gush at the base of the fire creeping toward him. Hissing and spitting, the insidious yellow fingers of heat retreated. For now.

  The first blow of a sledge boomed against the concrete of the home’s foundation. Then another boom sounded and another in syncopated rhythm as the rescuers went to work. Hunter moved to the side as bits of concrete sprayed inward, soon followed by whole chunks. An ominous creak overhead announced that the ceiling was about to give way. If that happened before they had him out of here, he would be toast—literally—and anyone standing nearby would almost surely be badly hurt or killed by the surge of flames and debris.

  “You should get back,” he hollered to the guys working the hammers, but it was doubtful they could hear him.

  “C’mon, Fireman.” Pritchet’s face appeared again at the enlarged hole, flanked by another eager male face.

  Two pairs of sturdy arms reached in and pulled him up and out onto the lawn. His helpers half dragged, half carried him away from the fire’s reach. Through blurred vision, Hunter made out additional officers training the stream of a second hose toward the first floor of the structure right above where they’d dragged him free. Again, not an effective strategy for putting the fire out—a garden hose didn’t have the water capacity—but it had been good enough for reducing heat and flames near where the rescuers were working. A sudden deafening crash and a wildly beautiful but deadly bloom of flames signaled the collapse of the interior ceilings into the basement. The officers dropped the second hose and joined them all in scurrying away.

  Hunter gasped and coughed as he was lowered to the ground near police vehicles. The distinctive wail of additional sirens closing in told Hunter the real firefighters were about to arrive. Even though the fire department wouldn’t even have been called out until the first police units arrived and saw the blaze, the officers in blue would have a heyday razzing the firefighters about showing up late to the party and the police being forced to save one of their own. Or at least a former one of their own.

  Where was Karissa?

  Blinking through tearing eyes, he spotted her sitting on the ground not far away, being checked out by EMTs. Choking out her name, Hunter crawled over to her on his hands and knees. She broke free of those tending her and collapsed against him, sobbing and shaking, even as Hunter’s consciousness faded into oblivion.

  FIFTEEN

  Fingers entwined with Hunter’s, Karissa sat next to his hospital bed and watched him sleep. The volume of toxic fumes he’d breathed in had taken a heavy toll. The extra minutes he’d spent in that basement had worsened his condition considerably. While Karissa had only needed a few hours of oxygen treatment and bronchodilators, Hunter had required hyperbaric oxygenation treatment in a compression chamber, where high doses of oxygen were delivered to his tissues to fade the carbon monoxide from his bloodstream. Thankfully, he was out of danger now and recovering nicely.

  With his facial features relaxed, the scarring on the side of Hunter’s face was only mildly noticeable. What would he look like clean shaven? She likely would never know—not when she didn’t dare stick around to find out. For his sake.

  Whoever she loved died and left her behind. Her head assured her that the deaths in her family were due to the actions of twisted individuals, not something destined to keep happening, willy-nilly, if those individuals were stopped. But Marshall Siebender was still out there, posing a threat, and her heart wouldn’t be able to risk another loss. Nor could she allow that loss to happen because the one she loved was with her and a target because of it.

  Siebender’s wife had been apprehended attempting to board a plane to a nonextradition country, but she hadn’t had Kyle with her and wasn’t saying what she’d done with the baby. Did her husband have him? Karissa shuddered at the thought of Kyle in that man’s custody.

  At least some of the hired thugs, like the bald guy and the scar-lipped man, had also been arrested. They were singing their lungs out, leading to exposure of a number of officers in police departments around the state, as well as the state police itself—including Detective Sykes and Sheriff O’Rourke. Even members of the Portland district attorney’s office, as well as other government offices and personnel in various medical facilities that had done business with him, were getting hit with charges of corruption.

  According to the latest update offered to her by a kindly and honest Portland detective, evidence uncovered at Siebender’s home and business had exposed a land developer with an operation in bribery and kickbacks on par with a mobster in his own unique good-old-boy style. Overnight, Siebender had made the FBI’s most wanted list on racketeering charges, as well as murder, kidnapping and attempted murder, but the man seemed to have vanished from the planet.

  The authorities thought Siebender was on the run, probably far from here by now, which was why law enforcement had pulled back on their 24-7 protection of Karissa and now mounted only discreet surveillance on the off chance Siebender popped up. Karissa wasn’t as confident as they were that he was fleeing. She’d seen the implacable fanaticism in the man’s eyes, up close and personal. That knowledge—that she was still on Siebender’s radar—was the reason she couldn’t continue risking Hunter’s life by remaining close to him any longer.

  “Hey, there.” Hunter’s voice rasped, returning her attention to him.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Much better, thanks.” He squeezed her fingers.

  Dropping her gaze, Karissa disengaged her hand from his. Being here when he woke up was a mistake. She was only hanging around in the States, instead of being long gone to Belize, because Kyle was still missing. She had to assure herself the baby was safe, even though the looming threat of Siebender’s vendetta would prevent her from applying to adopt him. Once Karissa was gone from the country, Marshall Siebender would have no reason to continue to go after Hunter or Kyle. Well, unless the man held a grudge against Hunter for saving her life numerous times from his murderous plots.

  “Don’t you dare retreat from me.” Hunter’s voice had strengthened, and he raised the head of his bed into a sitting position.

  “You haven’t lost as much
as I have,” she answered.

  What was the matter with her? She sounded bitter. She’d promised herself she would never go that direction. Leaving the country after Anissa’s funeral had been a defense mechanism she’d used against the temptation to grow hard and cynical. Or maybe taking off for the mission field after so much family death had been a way of running from emotions she’d never dealt with and burying them under a do-gooder facade. A possibility she might need to unpack and examine at a less stressful time.

  “Maybe not as much as you have,” Hunter said, “but Siebender’s antics have cost me quite a bit.”

  A lock of his shoulder-length hair fell forward, partially obscuring one of his deep gray eyes. Her fingers itched to brush the thick strand back from his face. She formed fists instead.

  “I know, Hunter, and I’m so sorry. I wish I could make it up to you somehow.”

  “None of this is your fault.”

  “It’s my family sins coming home to roost, so tell that innocence line to my conscience.”

  “No, you tell your conscience you’re innocent. I’m familiar with what a miserable, condemning beast that particular invisible organ can be.”

  She held up a forestalling hand. “This can’t be about us right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Kyle’s still missing, and Marshall Siebender is still on the loose.”

  “Any time now, someone will pop through that door to tell us Siebender is in custody and Kyle has been recovered.”

  Karissa pressed her lips together and shook her head. “This life doesn’t promise happily-ever-after.”

  “Whatever happened to ‘where there’s life, there’s hope’?”

  He reached for her hand, but she stood up and backed away. “I can’t keep endangering you with my presence in your life.”

  He let out a frustrated noise. “That’s ridiculous. I’m with the cops on this. The guy is too smart not to be heading as fast as he can go somewhere that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the US.”