Southern Package

by Poppy Adams

  They were trained to ignore the crowds and to follow procedures, and that's exactly what Fredrick did every time.

  Drake aimed his hose in through the doorway, having removed the door, and awaited instruction.

  "Go on, and get it going!"

  Without hesitation, Drake held tight to the hose and freed the water, creating a pathway for Fredrick.

  "Work on the fire," said Fredrick. "I'm going to pass you."

  Helmet, mask, and gloves in place Fredrick gulped on a lungful of air and entered the darkened smoke and flame filled building, where anything could happen.

  As he passed Drake, he grinned, loving his job, "Copy that."

  Fredrick left the ground floor and pushed his way up the stairs to the trapped woman beyond the flames.

  His helmet, with its light, speaker, radio and oxygen mask, always made him feel far safer than he really was in these circumstances.

  He didn't hear the roar of the orange mistress all around him, taste her sooty residue on his tongue, or experience her scorching his lungs.

  He was proud of his record as a fire fighter, proud of his crew, and more proud of this job than all the money his father made from casinos.

  But when things went wrong in this job, it was almost unbearable.

  Fredrick moved through the smoke and left the flames to creep up behind him as he climbed higher, respecting the blazing mistress with every considered step.

  There was no place for panic, and he was well known for being calm amidst chaos.

  Once he'd assessed the situation on the first floor with a trained eye, Fredrick stormed from room to room, calling, "Lady, you in here? Lady?"

  From one empty room after another, he ran, hoping she was out for the evening, getting laid, having fun, living.

  Then he came across the master bedroom.

  With flames building behind him, he burst through the door.

  "Lady? Anyone ... you in here?"

  He slammed the door shut behind him, knowing that route was now closed due to the fire chasing him.

  "Yeah, 223 reporting. I'm going to need ladders to the top right window ASAP! Over."

  Crumpled bed sheets told him it had been slept in.

  But where was she now?

  Why wasn't she screaming for help?

  A lack of screams often meant he found a body rather than a survivor, and this made him nervous.

  But he never left a building until he'd made every effort possible to find them, no matter what state he found them in.

  He scoured the corners of the room where most people fled to, thinking they would be somehow safer, "Lady? Anyone?"

  No one replied, but a white haze moved in one corner, near the dresser.

  He rushed to it and found a petite woman with her head covered with a shirt.

  "Ma'am? Talk to me!"

  He part moved the shirt from her face to find her nose, mouth and hair was so blackened with smoke, he could hardly make out her features.

  But she was alive.

  She groaned and writhed on the floor.

  "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now."

  He returned to the window and used his axe to smash it clear.

  His brute strength made the window fly outwards.

  The ladders were waiting for him.

  Admiring her grit, he picked her up and hoisted her tiny frame over his shoulder, "It's all going to be fine, I’ve got you now."

  The flames burned at the bedroom door.

  He had no time to waste.

  He moved swiftly to carry her through the window and down the ladder, to the lawns below.

  There, he laid her on the grass and removed his helmet while the paramedics rushed to her side to do their thing.

  It was then, when his heart stopped hammering and she was safe, when he recognized her.

  He'd only just saved the woman of his dreams—literally. "Lilly?! Is that you?"

  Lilly didn't answer.

  "Lilly, that's her name?" asked the paramedic checking her vitals. "You know her well?"

  "Not really." He knew how her red her hair was beneath the smoky residue, how peachy pale her completion had been when flushed with irritation. "Her name is Lilly Swift, though."

  He walked away, leaving Lilly safe under the care of the medics.

  He had a job to finish and the last person she would want to see when she woke up was the guy from her disastrous date.

  "223 reporting. The woman is alive, clear of the house and in medical care. The fire is under control. Over."

  On his way to the engine, he smiled to himself, marveling at how manipulative fate could be, or how serendipitous.

  From the clutches of death into his arms?

  Maybe it was fate…

  Chapter 8

  As oxygen cleansed her lungs and the paramedics fussed over her wellbeing, Lilly opened her eyes and began to see through the initial blur.

  A murky sky hung above her, the sounds of panicky neighbors and the glaring lights of fire trucks and emergency vehicles disturbed the peace she longed for.

  She shivered, but she felt the grass against her legs and the reassuring smell of it gave her hope that she was indeed saved from the fire.

  Emergency staff lifted her on a stretcher.

  As they wheeled her to the ambulance, she remembered how reassuring and strangely familiar the voice of the fire fighter who saved her had sounded.

  She needed to meet her hero before he was lost forever.

  He saved her life.

  He deserved her thanks at the very least.

  Besides, who didn't need a hero in their lives?

  Sliding the oxygen mask from her face, she croaked at the two men in control of her care, "Where is he?"

  "Who?" asked the larger man on her right, keeping his eyes on route.

  "The guy who got me out?" she said, searching the faces as they passed everyone.

  A stupid thing to do considering she never saw her hero's face.

  She tried to sit up, concentrating on sounds, hoping to pick out his voice, but the medic pushed her down on the stretcher.

  "Leave me alone, where is he?" her chest was sore and it hurt to talk, but she had to find him. "Let me meet him before you take me anywhere."

  "He's doing his job Ma'am, fighting the fire. Lie back. You've had a nasty shock. It was close back there, you need to rest."

  "Exactly, he saved my life. I need to meet him.”

  “Stubborn, this one,” the paramedic mumbled to his partner.

  “At least promise to ask him to come and see me. I must thank him."

  "Getting you to the hospital alive is our job, but I'll see what I can do after that, if you behave," he smiled, helping his partner to hoist her into the ambulance. "Now rest your throat, it's got to be sore, huh? And you'll have a nasty bruise on that cheek of yours."

  "Sorry," she pulled the oxygen mask over her face and breathed in as deeply as possible before choking.

  The medic was right, it hurt to speak and to breathe, but she didn't regret taking the chance before it was entirely lost.

  Once on board the ambulance, the medic put a line in her arm and injected her with something cold. "This is a little something to help your body relax, okay."

  Lilly didn't want to sleep, she did not want to forget him.

  "No, not yet."

  Too late - the icy fluid ran through her veins, "Not till I've spoken to . . ." and blackness carried her away.

  Chapter 9

  Fredrick had ensured his job was taken care of, so he went to find Lilly, but he was told the paramedics left to take her to the hospital already.

  Should I go visit her there?

  Wasn't he the last person she would want to see after their dreadful date?

  Either way, he needed to check on her in the aftermath of the fire.

  And who knows, maybe he should try for another date?

  Especially if she has the hot for guys who save her life.

  Yep, she m
ay not be a Champagne girl, but heroes are a different thing altogether.

  As he packed away his equipment, a radio message came in for him. "You Fredrick? This is Dave, the medic from the house fire."

  "Sure," a weird feeling gripped his stomach. "Um, what's up?"

  "The patient, a Miss Lilly Swift, wishes to meet her rescuer and thank you personally. It was you, right?"

  "Yeah, it was me." A grin ate up Fredrick's face. "How is she, where's she at?"

  "We gave her saline, sedated her and took her to St Michaels. She's not doing too badly though thanks to you; a little sore but she'll recover."

  "So she won't be there long?"

  "She'll be signed out tomorrow if there are no complications. No idea where she's off to though, what with her house being burned to the ground and all. Any clues as to how the fire started?"

  "No, not yet. The investigators are poking around."

  "Could be electrics, the house was old. Could be a candle. She looks like the scented candle type."

  "You might be right." Wait? This is Lilly Swift. "Actually, no. She's way too smart to leave one burning."

  "So, you know her well, then?"

  "No… Yes." Fredrick was too tired to explain. "It's a long story. Listen, thanks for letting me know. I'll head up there after my shift."

  "Be lucky," said Dave before hanging up.

  Fredrick's grin, still very much in place, caught the attention of Drake. "Hey, what's got you all worked up?"

  "Oh, nothing interesting. I could really do with leaving straight after my shift this time, though. Will you write this one up?" Fredrick usually did the paperwork, so this was a strange request for him.

  "Sure, what gives?" Drake smirked and raised one eyebrow. "Who is she? Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

  "Let's just say, I'm a born again believer in second chances and today, I may have landed one."

  "Second chance at what?" He waited a moment for a reply, but impatiently prodded. "Hey, come on big man—share. I want to smile like that."

  "Oh," Fredrick shrugged, feeling smug, and it was nothing to shrug about, "a second chance to impress a remarkable woman. That's all."

  "Hey, awesome news dude." Drake slapped him on his back, "Is she a keeper though, or just another hook-up? I only ask coz you do love your hook-ups."

  "Nah, she's no-one’s hook-up."

  "Now that is good news. There comes a time for every man to settle down." Drake looked off into infinity, "Marrying my Sheena was the best move I ever made."

  "Yeah, so I hear." Sheena and Drake made a great couple. "Who wouldn't settle for Sheena?"

  "Hey," Drake play-punched Fredrick in the arm, climbing into the truck. "So, this lady you're off to see - what's so special about her?"

  Fredrick thought about Lilly, what could he say?

  How could he sum her up?

  He couldn't.

  "If you ever get to meet her, you'll see."

  "What're you waiting for then? Get going. I'll catch you next week, yeah. I'm going to want details."

  Fredrick called a cab and went straight to the hospital.

  On the way, he called a contractor to recover any intact belongings from her house as soon as the investigation was complete, and to store them until she found somewhere else to live, or until her house could be restored.

  As he pulled up outside the hospital, he realized he was still wearing his uniform and reeked of smoke again.

  Will she ever see me clean?

  Chapter 10

  Lilly slept for a few hours and when she woke in hospital, she tried to remember the details of the night before.

  Had she been negligent in some way, and caused the fire, which almost killed her?

  She was always so careful?

  How many of her prized possessions had she lost—her photos, CD's, jewelry, and a letter of apology from her father sent from prison.

  The door opposite her bed led to the ladies room and she could really do with freshening up.

  The smell of smoke in her hair made her nauseous and she longed to go back for the long soak in the tub she enjoyed the night before.

  Of course, she couldn't, not any more.

  A flood of tears stung her cheeks and the rims of her eyes, and she buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

  All lost forever.

  How did this awful thing happen?

  She remembered the death threats she received from the loan sharks last time she tried to push for a prosecution on behalf of one of their victims.

  But that was a few weeks ago?

  A honeyed voice said, "Hey now. You've just woken up, I'm guessing?"

  Lilly instantly recognized the luscious voice.

  It was the voice of her hero but also the voice of her tragic blind date.

  She peered up at him, "Fredrick? Oh, I . . . "

  "Sorry, yes. It's me. According to your paramedic, you wanted me to come visit with you."

  Tall and strong, he filled the doorway.

  He still stunk of smoke and his clothes were as disheveled as they had been that day, but at least now she understood why. "I did but . . ."

  "Hope it's okay?"

  She tried to sit up and when the needle in her arm hurt, she yelped.

  "No need to sit up on my behalf." Fredrick came to her aid. He passed her the box of tissues on the side table and sat on the edge of her bed. "Dry your tears, you're alive."

  "Sorry, you're right, of course," she said, blowing her nose before pulling the sheets up over her chest, wishing she'd had the chance to freshen up before he arrived. "So, either you always go around filthy, or you came to our date straight from a call out?"

  "Ah," Fredrick smiled, "You got me. I did try to explain but . . . "

  "Yeah, I remember. I can be horribly stubborn, I guess. Either way, what are the chances? One minute you're a seemingly bad date, the next you're saving my life?"

  He scoffed, "The chances were significantly more for me, as a fire-fighter."

  "Oh yeah," she laughed but it hurt. "Still, I am sorry for making such a harsh, and as it turns out – ignorant - judgment about you. If I'd only listened to you, instead of . . . "

  She remembered the main reason for her snap decision being her affection for Anon—like she was in some way being unfaithful, like Fredrick had to compete with him.

  When the truth of it was, she would likely never meet Anon and shouldn't live her life fantasizing about him.

  Anon was not her lover or her partner.

  He was someone who cared about what she did, who donated huge amounts of money to her charity.

  Nothing more.

  Fredrick on the other hand was a real, fresh and blood man.

  A hero . . . and a very handsome one at that.

  "I don't do relationships well, and I don't generally date. Guess I'm out of practice."

  His focus moved to where her fingers touched his and he shrugged, "You know what? I may be persuaded to accept your apology, but only under one condition." He threaded his fingers through hers and smiled up at her, an inquisitive glint in his eyes.

  "Oh?" Lilly's tummy tickled, and she sniffed back her residual tears, "What condition might that be?"

  "You offer me another chance to impress you. I failed completely last time and well," he leaned in a little and held her gaze. Boy, he was sexy. "I figure you owe me after I saved your life."

  Lilly wanted to run around the room and giggle for some reason, but kept it all in. "When you put it like that," her stomach flipped and all concerns of where she would live, of what she had lost, of Anon flew away—at least for a while. Fredrick gazed at her through deep bronze, smiling eyes, awaiting her response. "How can I refuse?"

  Fredrick searched her face, still holding her hand. "How indeed."

  Chapter 11

  The doctors kept Lilly in hospital for observation for two nights, but nothing was broken and the smoke damage would repair over time.

  The following night
after that, Fredrick said he would pick her up from her hotel apartment at eight for their second date.

  They remained in touch by phone post-admission, passing jokes and silly updates.

  The police came to visit, asking her about the death threat.

  It was burned along with the house, so she had no evidence, but they said they would look into it.

  Lilly told herself it was nothing more than old wiring, but fear lingered in the background.

  A deep fear that she tried not to think about…

  The day of the date, Abbey and Lilly returned from visiting a few houses Lilly was interested in renting, and from buying her a whole new wardrobe.

  "Good job you had savings, Lilly. Most people would be destitute after losing their home and everything in it."

  "I was never one to fixate on possessions. Apart from sentimental items of course; I miss those, and books, and CD's. Oh, and if I'm honest, a few pairs of killer heels."

  "You must have most of your books and music on your Cloud? And pictures. Tell me you made digital copies?"

  "Yeah, course I did. But you can't beat a hard copy. Or killer heels."

  Lilly sniggered, refusing to whine about losing possessions any longer; Fredrick was right, she was alive.

  Goodbye classic wardrobe essentials she'd spent too much on because they were quality items made to last.

  Goodbye home.

  Hello new life, new home, new possibilities.

  "I must say, you're taking all this much better than I think I would."

  "Fact is Abbey, post-tragedy, if you don't learn how precious life is and how trivial possessions are, you're a fool. Possessions I can learn to live without, my skin or a pulse, not so much." The idea she might have died stuck out at the forefront of her mind, but she tried to focus on practicalities. "Course, I don't have an endless resource of savings so I'm going to need the insurance to pay up big-time. I'm a little scared I did something to cause the damn fire and can't remember it, but . . ."

  "You're too diligent to cause a fire so you can get that out of your mind right away."