Hawk gazed up at her, and Meg could have sworn he had both brows raised as if to say Yes, let’s . . .
“Okay, smarty pants, let’s get this search going. Find them, Hawk, but slow. Slow.”
Hawk put his nose back into the air with the familiar sound of his breathing when he was in odor. Not the longer, deeper inhalations of regular breathing, but a noisier series of short inhalations and exhalations that directed air up into his olfactory recess instead of down into his lungs. It was how dogs were able to detect scents that would need to be up to 100,000 times stronger for any human to smell. It’s how Hawk could find anyone in the area. In Meg’s experience, his nose was never wrong; the victim might not be alive or even in one piece, but there was always a victim. Eyeing his body language, she was reassured that he sensed something. Someone.
Hawk picked his way carefully through the flotsam that had built up in the yard and even into the footprint of the house under the unsupported second floor—concrete cinder blocks tossed about as if by a giant hand, sheets of corrugated metal, branches with spearlike points, filthy tufts of pink insulation, and sheets of shingles, still nailed to the wood sheathing originally covering roof joists. He moved confidently but set his feet down carefully and with considerably more grace than Meg felt clambering after him while loaded down with her SAR—search-and-rescue—pack. Once again, four paws and a low center of gravity were an advantage.
He moved directly toward the missing section of the house. Beyond the missing walls, open doorways led into the rest of the house. There was no basement; Meg knew from her years living in Virginia that some areas didn’t have basements due to high water tables and coastal living. That suited her just fine since it was one less hazard to manage.
“Hawk, stop.”
Hawk immediately stopped and held in place just outside the corner boundary of the house, but Meg could see his impatience in the way he nearly vibrated with pent-up excitement. The game was afoot as far as he was concerned. Her concern was the structural stability of the house. Now closer, she examined it thoroughly. She was no engineer and probably wouldn’t be able to recognize a load-bearing wall from twenty paces, but she needed to be as sure as she could. She and Hawk were not going to be in the building when it collapsed.
Inside the house, the inner wall, now wiped clean of any adornment, held a doorway opening to a center staircase beyond. Overhead, she could see the exposed joists of the subfloor, and, at the ragged edge of the far side of the upper story, broken ceramic tiles dangled on the remains of steel mesh and scratch-coat mortar near what must have been originally a sink or shower, but now was merely jutting pipes.
“If there’s an iron tub up there, risk of collapse is high,” she told her dog. She turned her gaze to the lower floor. The foyer inside the doorway seemed intact. No more time to waste. “Hawk, find them.”
With one last appraising glance at the ceiling above, Meg followed her dog across the debris. He nimbly made the two-foot jump up to the doorway while she scrambled up after him. Once inside the foyer, she took a moment, letting her eyes acclimate to the lack of light. Inside the hall, it looked like a cyclone had swept through and a mix of bedroom belongings—clothing, stuffed animals, and books—mingled with lamps, end tables, and shattered family photos. Water pooled in corners and dripped from the upper floor down the stairwell in a rhythmic patter.
“Okay, Hawk, where are they? Find them.”
Hawk was already nosing through the debris inside the house, his nose working furiously. He looked up the master staircase—a place they were well familiar with as being a place for pooling scent to funnel down from above—hesitated for only a fraction of a second and then bolted up the stairs, Meg already primed to dash after him.
“Hawk, slow.” The dog immediately slowed to a walk. “I know, buddy, but we have to be careful. This house is in bad shape. Now, find them. I’m right behind you.”
Hawk came to the top of the stairs and Meg swallowed a curse as he immediately turned left toward the light. Toward the part of the house with little support. “Of course,” she muttered darkly.
The doorways leading off the upper hall to her right all led to jumbled bedrooms. To her left, one open doorway showed a bedroom at the front of the house, a dresser still against the stairway wall, but drawers hung drunkenly or had crashed to the floor. Other pieces of furniture were all gone, swept away by the rushing water. Hawk ignored that room, instead sitting down in the open doorway of the bathroom, his classic alert.
At least one person was in there. But alive or dead?
Meg moved to stand in the doorway and did a quick scan of an apparently deserted room. Small mercy—if there had been a tub, it had been down at the far end and was gone now. A battered toilet missing its lid and the top of the tank teetered at the edge of the abyss next to a sink set over cabinet doors. Shattered wood and shards of mirror gathered in the sink and Meg could see the holes in the wall over the sink where a mirror had once been mounted. Opposite the sink was a double-doored linen cabinet. “FBI search-and-rescue. Is anyone here?”
Silence.
Meg’s stomach knotted. Not another dead victim. She turned to her dog. “Hawk, find them. Show me.”
Hawk, surprisingly, paused, as if unwilling to go farther. Alerting at the doorway. Stopping now. What could he sense that she couldn’t? At that moment, the house groaned. Meg’s gaze snapped to her dog, who was staring intently at the floor. Could he hear something beyond her range? Or sense micro vibrations not detected through her steel-toed boots?
Time to try a different tack. “Hawk, sit.”
He sat and looked up at her.
“Stay. Now show me, Hawk. Stay, but find them.” His head swiveled to the linen closet. “Good boy. Now stay.” She accompanied the command with a hand motion as reinforcement.
She took a single step into the bathroom, paused, then took a second. Nothing. She let out the breath she’d been holding and took a third. Only two more feet to the cabinet. Her gaze flicked to the open end of the bathroom only three or four feet past the cabinet. Ragged walls opened up to late afternoon sunlight and rooftops. Her stomach clutched reflexively and Meg cursed her fear of heights for rearing its ugly head.
Get a grip. It’s only two stories up. A toddler wouldn’t think anything of it.
Another step.
The house shuddered around her, the wood straining with a shriek, and Meg froze.
Two stories is going to hurt like hell when you land.
She glanced back at Hawk. He was on his feet now, but hadn’t moved from where he’d been told to stay. “Good boy, Hawk. Stay.”
Keep going.
One more careful step with the most cautious resettling of her weight and she was in front of the cabinet. She grasped one of the two round doorknobs and pulled, but the door didn’t budge. She studied the top of the door frame, which seemed like it was at an odd angle, jamming the door into place. “Damn it, the house is tilted and the framing is off.” She tried the second door, but it was no better.
This was going to take brute force. Hooking her free hand over the lip of the sink for extra leverage, she gripped the door handle as hard as she could.
One yank.
Two.
Nothing.
She gritted her teeth and pulled with all her might. With a scream of wood tearing against wood the door popped free and Meg flew back against the countertop. Under her feet, the floor jerked, dropping an inch or two, then vibrating back to stillness.
Meg let out a shaky breath and then opened her eyes. Then she forgot all about the house. “Oh my God.”
A man lay in the bottom of the linen closet, curled into a ball around a belly wet with blood. Mindless of structural collapse, Meg dropped to her knees in front of him. “Sir? Sir!” She gave his shoulder a rough shake and was rewarded by fluttering eyelashes. Still with us. She gently pulled his arm away from his belly and tried not to gasp in shock—a four-inch-long, triangular shard of mirror protru
ded from his abdomen. God only knew how much was buried inside.
It was a miracle he hadn’t bled out yet. The knifelike shard must not have hit anything vital, but even smaller vessels could leak enough blood to cause death.
She fumbled for her satellite phone and dialed Craig, talking as soon as he picked up. “I need help. I have a single male, approximately forty. He’s taken a shard of mirror to the gut and he’s bleeding out. I need paramedics stat.”
“I’ll get you what I can, Jennings, but they told me forty-five minutes.”
“I’m not sure he’ll last that long. He’s—” She let out a shriek as the sound of tearing wood screamed around her.
“Meg! You there?”
“I’m here. Craig, remember how I said the second floor was suspended with almost no support. That’s where we are. I think I’m going to have to move him.”
“You can’t do that. You’ll slice his guts.”
“If we fall, it could sever his aorta and then he’ll last only seconds. Call for paramedics. And can you get me Brian? I may need help until first responders arrive, and he’s closest.”
“Yes. Hang tight.” The line went dead.
Meg bent back over the man. “Sir? Can you hear me?”
“Yes.” The word was croaked from dry lips.
“Hold on, I have some water.” She carefully slithered out of her pack and pulled a fresh bottle of water from it. Uncapping it, she crouched down and set the bottle against his lips, tipping it gently. He took a few sips, but as much drizzled down his cheek as into his mouth. “Can you tell me your name?”
“James . . . Carpenter.”
“James, have you been in here since the storm?”
“Thought I could ride it out. Didn’t think it would be this bad. Didn’t want looters to rob us blind. Sent my wife and kids away. Stayed.”
“Help is coming, but I’m worried you’ve lost a lot of blood. How were you injured?”
“House was flooding. Had to get to the second floor. Winds were terrifying. Hid in the bathroom. Thought it might be the most stable place. All that extra tiling and plumbing. Then part of the house ripped right off. Mirror ripped off the wall, glass in the air everywhere.” He had to stop and take a breath to gather himself. “I took a piece in the gut. Didn’t want to pull it out. Worried it would bleed worse.”
“That was a good decision.”
“Crawled into the closet. Thought I’d be safe here with the door closed. Nothing else could hit me. Then I couldn’t open the door. No cell phone. Thought I’d die here.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it. I—” She stopped. Was that her name being called?
“MEG!”
Brian.
“James, hold on a minute. Don’t move, I’ll be back, I promise.” She planted her feet and rose slowly to a standing position. But the moment she tried to shift her weight, the floor shifted beneath her and she sank back down. “On second thought, I’ll stay here. My colleague is outside.” She turned to face the open end of the bathroom. “Brian!”
“Meg! Where are you?”
“Inside, second floor. Bathroom at the top of the stairs. Are you looking at the open end of the house?”
“Yes.”
“Second floor. That’s the bathroom, that’s where I am.”
“Jesus, Meg. Get out of there. It could go at any moment.”
“Brian, I would love to, but I’m here with Mr. Carpenter and he’s not up to leaving right now. Perhaps you could come up?” She knew he’d read the formality in her words and tone as Can’t leave, get your ass up here and help!
“Roger that.”
Meg turned back to James. “Help is coming. Hang on.”
She heard Brian’s boots pounding up the stairs and then he was in the doorway, Lacey at his heels. “Stop. Don’t come any farther. I’m concerned about structural stability.”
“No kidding.” Brian took in the room in a quick study. “What do you need?”
“Mr. Carpenter has taken a piece of shattered mirror to the abdomen and blood loss is an issue.” She kept her voice calm and reasonable, knowing that would help keep James from panicking. “Normally I wouldn’t want to move him until paramedics arrive, but I’m concerned we may lose this section of the house. I think we need to move him. Carefully.”
“Using what? Recommendations?”
“Normally, I’d suggest something solid, like a door, but I’m hesitant to add any more weight in here. What about something light, like material. Curtain, quilt, sheet. Something we can get him onto and then drag?”
“Done. Lacey, stay.” Brian whirled and disappeared into a room on the other side of the stairs.
Meg laid a comforting hand onto James’s leg. “Do you think you can move? We need to do our best not to shift that piece of mirror.”
His voice was getting weaker, but it was still backed by steel. “I got in here, I can get out.”
“Good man.”
Brian ran back into the doorway. “Hey, what about this?” His arms were full of bedding. “I thought maybe a top sheet to wrap around him, to pack the mirror into place. And then the quilt to drag him.”
“Excellent. Toss them here. Sheet first.”
Brian’s lob landed the sheet squarely in her arms and she grinned her thanks. Slowly and with infinite care, she wound the sheet around his torso, silently concerned about how fast the material turned dark with blood. She tied it off as tight as she could manage, hoping it would give stability as well as enough pressure to stanch the blood.
“Okay, quilt next.” The quilt unraveled as it flew through the air, but Meg caught a corner and pulled it toward her. With Brian’s help, she flipped it out flat on the floor. “Okay, James, I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t think it was crucial, but we’re going to need to move you now. You have to help us because otherwise we’ll hurt you more. We need to get you onto the quilt, then we’ll take it from there. Can you do it?”
James nodded. Then, a tiny bit at a time, he started to inch out of the closet, sliding his body along the floor. Every so often, a groan of absolute agony slipped from between his clenched teeth and he’d have to stop, panting to catch his breath.
“Doing great. You’re halfway there.” Meg glanced at Brian. “I’m going to move backward so he can get into place.”
“Wait, isn’t that—”
Meg talked right over him. “Once he’s in place, carefully start pulling him. When he’s inside the hallway, there should be enough stability to leave him there until the paramedics arrive.”
Lips tight, Brian gave a curt nod. Just because it was their only option didn’t mean he had to like it.
Meg inched backward another foot, the floor groaning and trembling under her weight. They didn’t have long now. The floor was going to give way soon. Minutes might be all they had.
It took those minutes to get James onto the quilt. Brian quietly ordered the dogs on either side of him, then gave the command to pull. Together, Brian, Hawk, and Lacey pulled the quilt with the supine man slowly and steadily over the floor. James groaned when they rolled him over the odd piece of debris, but there was no other way, so they kept going. Meg didn’t dare move until James was free of the collapsing floor.
Finally, he was through the doorway, and Meg could hear Brian praising him and telling him that paramedics would be there shortly. Then he and the dogs were back in the doorway.
“Now you,” Brian said. “Get up slowly, then it’s only about four steps.”
“Easier said than done. Here, take this first.” Meg tossed Brian her SAR pack.
He caught it and set it down in the corridor. Then he hooked his hand over the edge of the door frame, made sure his feet were safely planted in the hallway, and then leaned out to her, right hand extended. “Come on.”
“Brian, if it—”
“Nope.” He ruthlessly cut her off. “Not happening. We can do this.”
Meg sucked in a deep breath and then slowly started
to rise to her feet. She could feel the oncoming collapse the moment her weight shifted; it started as a terrifying vibration that built into a scream of shattering wood and drywall. The floor started to give way under her feet as the roof trusses above finally lost their fight with gravity.
Every ounce of fear Brian felt shone in his eyes. “No time! Jump!”
Meg put everything she had into pushing off with her still bent legs, launching herself toward Brian even as the room tilted around her, the floor and ceiling becoming vertical walls as the structure crashed to the ground. Meg kept her eyes locked on Brian’s hand. There was life. Scraps of debris rained down on her as she hung suspended for a moment and then her hand slapped against Brian’s wrist as her body crashed against what was left of the hallway wall, her body spinning free in open air. Tearing agony ripped through her right shoulder and she couldn’t hold back a scream.
“I’ve got you.” The words ground from between Brian’s gritted teeth as he held on for dear life to both the door frame and Meg’s flailing body.
Meg scrabbled with her free hand, trying to catch ahold of anything, her fingers reaching to grip the edge of the doorway, but slipping off as her body rotated away. Then her arm was caught in a viselike grip and she dangled from both arms, the pain in her shoulder dulling slightly as her body slowly rocked to a halt. Looking up, she met Hawk’s eyes above bared teeth where they clamped onto her sleeve.
“Good boy, Hawk,” Brian wheezed. “Now pull!”
Together they hauled her up, dragging her body upward until they could yank her into the hallway, falling to the floor in a tangled pile with her.
Hawk jumped on her, licking her face ecstatically. “It’s okay, boy, I’m okay. And you’re amazing.” She looked over to where Brian pulled himself up to slump against the stairwell railing. “Thank you.”
“Hey, anytime.” The words puffed out between panting breaths. “But if the spirit moves you, you can always return the favor in the form of a bottle of wine.”
Meg chuckled. “I can get you to do anything for a nice bottle of wine.”
Meg pushed to her hands and knees and then shifted back to sit on her haunches. She rotated her shoulder, rubbing it with her left hand as the pain eased. She’d be okay, but for a moment, she thought she’d dislocated it again, now only a few months healed from the last time she took down a killer.
Storm Rising Page 5
