Cattle Valley 26 - Shadow Soldier (9 page)

After pouring a good amount of oil on the pedestal, he began to rub it in with a clean cloth, delighting in the way the oil brought out the richness of the wood. It was immediate gratification at its finest. One swipe of the cloth and already the mahogany took on a gorgeous sheen.

Aaron doubted he’d feel as giddy after the fifth or sixth coat, but he knew for a fact Deacon had put eight coats on the bed. He stopped only long enough to turn on the small dusty radio in the corner before going back to his work.

By the time he finished the first coat on the entire structure it was almost twelve-thirty in the morning. Intending to apply at least one more coat before going to bed for the night, Aaron stripped off the messy gloves and tossed them to the drop cloth beside the rag.

Stepping back to admire his work, Aaron couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I made that,” he announced proudly to the empty room.
Aaron arrived back upstairs and glanced around for the kitten. “Are you still mad?” He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and noticed a good amount of Groucho’s food was gone. “You’re not supposed to eat when you’re upset, that’ll make you an emotional eater, not a good combination,” he said, walking towards the couch.
He sat down and put his feet up on the coffee table before turning on the television. Aaron took a swig of beer just as Groucho launched himself from the arm of the sofa, hitting Aaron’s arm in the process. “Dammit.”
Aaron wiped at the spilled beer on his shirt. “Come here, you knucklehead.” Shirt forgotten, Aaron pulled Groucho onto his lap. “You’ll have me to yourself all day tomorrow, I promise.”
Obviously a forgiving animal, Groucho settled on Aaron’s chest and closed his eyes. Aaron turned on the television and stretched out on the couch, careful not to wake the kitten from his slumber.
Claws sank into Aaron’s skin causing him to bolt upright. He blinked several times, slowly becoming aware that he’d fallen asleep on the couch. The abrupt movement sent Groucho running to parts unknown as Aaron coughed, realising the room was filling with smoke. “Shit!”
He jumped up and ran to the door that led to the shop. He felt the panel, pulling his hands away at the intense heat coming from downstairs. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck…” he continued to chant as he searched his pockets for his cell phone. “Groucho? Come here kitty.”
“Nine-one-one operator, what is the nature of your emergency?”
“Fire, sixteen-oh-one Main.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Getting himself and Groucho out of the apartment was his top priority. He made kissing noises in an attempt to call the frightened kitten. There were too many hiding places in the apartment for him to check them all and still make it out alive.
Aaron ran to the kitchen and grabbed a dishtowel off the counter. After running it under cold water, he put the sloppy mess to his face without taking time to wring it out. Unlocking the back door that led to the alley, Aaron made one last attempt at finding the kitten. He grabbed the small cardboard tube of treats Deacon had purchased several days earlier and started shaking it. “Groucho. Treat.”
Aaron coughed again, using the bottom half of the towel to wipe at his burning eyes. Just when he’d given up hope, he saw a series of black spots through the thick smoke. Afraid of scaring the kitten, he dropped to his knees and shook the container again. His efforts were rewarded when Groucho climbed into Aaron’s lap.
Aaron shoved the kitten under his shirt and ran to the door. He took the steps three at a time, nearly dumping himself on his ass. Flames billowed out of the shop window licking towards the night sky as Aaron fought to control his coughing.
Shit.
From the size of the fire, Aaron knew there was a strong possibility it would spread before the fire department could contain it. He thought of the other apartments that lined the upper floors of the downtown buildings.
With only a moment’s hesitation, Aaron tucked his shirt into his jeans to secure Groucho before he started to yell. “Fire!”
O’Brien’s Pub was the closest, so he started there. “Fire!” he screamed again. He found a stray board beside Deacon’s shed and used it to break a small window on the first floor. The moment the glass broke, a loud alarm sounded. Thank God. “Fire!” he repeated, his lungs starting to give out.
When a light in the apartment above turned on, Aaron shouted the warning once more before moving down the block. He heard the sirens and hoped they would help alert people to the situation.
Aaron ran up the back stairs to the apartment above the small hardware store. He pounded on the door several times with no response before breaking the window. Groucho protested the action and swiped at Aaron’s chest with his claws, scrambling to get out of the protective cocoon. “Shhhh.” Aaron did his best to calm the kitten with his free hand. He waited for a light to go on, but when the interior remained dark and no alarm sounded, he worried the smoke was already overcoming the occupant.
With only a moment’s hesitation, Aaron finished clearing the glass from the window and stuck his head inside. “Fire! Get out!” Although not as thick as the smoke in Deacon’s apartment, it was obvious the fire was spreading. He untucked his shirt and grabbed Groucho, giving him a quick snuggle before setting him down and urging him down the steps. “You can’t go in here with me, baby.”
As he crawled through the window, an errant shard of glass he hadn’t seen scraped along his back. He swallowed the curse, saving his energy for his task ahead and prayed Groucho would find a safe place to hide out.
Aaron had no idea who lived upstairs, but he had seen a light on before. Having lost his wet rag when he’d ran out of Deacon’s apartment, Aaron was forced to use his T-shirt to try and stem the amount of smoke getting into his lungs. “Fire!”
He dropped to the kitchen floor, coughing. “Fire,” he tried again in the midst of a coughing fit. Staying low to the floor, Aaron crawled through the apartment towards where he hoped he’d find a bedroom.
When he saw spots instead of the room in front of him, he knew he was in trouble. Vision useless in the thick smoke, Aaron felt his way through the living room. He continued as straight a path as he could manage until he felt the wall. Rising to his knees, Aaron felt around until he located one of the large front windows. He blindly searched for something to break the glass, hoping it would draw the fire towards him, but like most fires, the smoke was his immediate concern.
He threw the first object he managed to find and was rewarded with the sound of breaking glass. The noise from the gathering crowd grew louder as Aaron struggled to stand enough to stick his head out the window. Smoke from the interior of the apartment followed his upper body as he struggled to get a fresh breath of air.
“Up there,” someone below shouted.
Aaron gulped at the air, drawing both air and smoke into his lungs. The floor under his feet began to feel hot as the rescuers franticly tried to smother the flames. It was obvious to Aaron the entire bottom floor had already started to burn.
Aaron pushed at the broken glass, knocking more of it free as he tried to climb out on the ledge.
“Aaron?” Chief George Manning called up.
“I think there’s someone in the bedroom,” he managed to say, still coughing.
“Hang on,” George shouted.
Aaron wiped at his tears as they continued to flow. The ladder hooked to the side of the fire truck was quickly removed by two of the volunteers and carried to the building. With an oxygen tank strapped to his back, George scaled the ladder. Once he reached the ledge, he took a moment to check on Aaron. “Can you get down?”
Aaron nodded. He’d been prepared to jump if that’s what it took, so tumbling down a ladder was worth the risk. “Bedroom,” he managed to say before George disappeared into the apartment.
Aaron scooted closer to the ladder before reaching out to grab it. He’d taken a few steps down when a solid body pressed against his back. “Lean on me,” Sammy Lee yelled in Aaron’s ear.
As he leant back against the comforting wall of strength, Aaron gave himself over to the blackness that had threatened to take him since entering the apartment. His last thought was for Groucho.

Deacon held Aaron’s hand as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He’d never been so glad he’d given up his secret as when he’d received the call from Priest on his agency phone.

He’d been in the middle of a heated discussion with the President when he’d received the call. Expecting an update from Midnight, Deacon nearly hung up and returned to his meeting until Priest uttered Aaron’s name.

After being told of Aaron’s condition, Deacon had ended the call, told the President his decision was final and ran to the elevator that would get him out of the underground bunker.
Aaron’s eyelids fluttered for several moments before opening fully. He reached up and moved the oxygen mask to the side. “I’m sorry.”
Deacon scooted closer to the bed, despite the protest from his knee and leaned against the mattress. “Shhh. It was just a building. The important thing is you’ll be fine.”
Aaron started to reach for Deacon but winced and drew his hand back.
“You did quite a number on your back crawling through one of those windows.”
Aaron gestured to the small pitcher of water. “Thirsty.”
“It’s empty. I’ll have to ask.” Instead of leaving Aaron’s side, Deacon pressed the small button on the side of the bed.
In a matter of seconds, Dr Isaac Singer stepped into the room. “Good to see you awake.” He walked over to the bed and used his stethoscope to check Aaron’s lung function. “You’re damn lucky. We had to airlift Shane out of here.”
Aaron’s blond eyebrows drew together. “Who?”
“Shane Rendell, the man whose life you saved by breaking into his apartment. Damn stupid move, by the way,” Isaac reprimanded.
“I saved? He’ll be okay?” Aaron sounded as if he’d had strep throat for days.
“Can I get him some water?” Deacon asked, interrupting the conversation.
“Ice would be better. There’s still a chance he could throw up, the less in his stomach, the better.” Isaac helped Aaron to a sitting position. “Let me take a look at your stitches.”
Deacon grabbed the pitcher and left the room. He knew Aaron would ask about Shane until he’d been given an answer, and Deacon didn’t want to tell Aaron the young man was in a coma. Apparently, Shane had been home sick with the flu for two days. He’d made the mistake of taking a large dose of cough syrup in an effort to help him sleep and hadn’t awoken since. Even though he was still breathing when George and Sammy pulled him from the burning building, the combination of medicine and smoke had combined to throw Shane into unconsciousness.
“How’s he doing?” Dr Sam Browning asked.
“He’s awake. Asking questions.” Deacon opened the small ice dispenser and filled the pitcher.
“Here.” Sam handed Deacon a small cup and spoon. “Feed it to him from that.”
“Was anyone else hurt?” Deacon hadn’t asked about anyone else. He’d only discovered the information about Shane because he’d overheard Sam and Isaac talking in the hall earlier.
“Everyone else came out okay. Evidently Aaron broke a window at O’Brien’s which set off their security system. They managed to get safely out the front door and run around the side of the building to check on Moby’s mom who lives across the alley.”
The fire had destroyed three buildings in downtown Cattle Valley. “Any idea yet what started it?”
Sam shook his head. “They know it started at your place, but not why. I’m supposed to call Ryan as soon as Aaron’s well enough to be questioned.”
Deacon sighed. It was one more reminder of how fast a person’s life could change. “Thanks.” He carried the ice back to the room just as Isaac was leaving. “He gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. His lungs sound pretty good and his back’ll heal in no time. We’ll probably keep him here for another day just to be on the safe side.”
“Thanks Doc.” Deacon entered the room to find Aaron’s eyes filled with tears. Whether it was the news of Shane’s condition or the shock of the entire situation, Deacon wasn’t sure, but he prayed Aaron wouldn’t come out of the ordeal feeling responsible. He shook some of the ice chips into the glass and loaded a few onto the spoon. “Here.”
The oxygen mask gone, Aaron opened his mouth. It took three spoonfuls before he spoke. “I asked Dr Singer about Groucho but he didn’t know anything. Will you go look for him?”
Finally, Deacon had something positive to share. “Luke found him at the scene and sent him home with Priest.”
Another round of tears dripped down Aaron’s cheeks. “I was so worried something had happened to him and you’d never forgive me.”
“If I had anything to be mad at you for, it would be you going into a burning building to play hero,” Deacon argued. “But then I realised I would’ve done the same thing in your position.” He fed Aaron more ice. “You can add five more positive check marks onto that list I made you start.”
“I still don’t know what happened. I fell asleep on the couch with Groucho and he woke me a few hours later by scratching the hell out of my chest. When I woke up, the room was already filled with smoke.”
“It’s hard to say. The entire first floor was nothing but a big campfire waiting to be ignited. You’re lucky the storage cabinet was shut or the place could’ve gone up a lot faster.”
Aaron opened his mouth but paused before taking another spoonful. He pulled back, away from the spoon. “I remember shutting the cabinet.”
“Sheriff Blackfeather will be here in a little while to ask you what you remember. Make sure you tell him that.”
“Okay.” He shook his head when Deacon offered him more ice. “I’m done.” He brushed Deacon’s hand with his fingertips. “What’re you gonna do now that the shop is gone?”
Deacon set the cup on the table. He stood high enough to lean over the side of the bed. With his face hovering about Aaron’s he gazed into the eyes of the man he’d grown to love. “Spend the rest of my life thanking God you made it out safely. Beyond that, nothing else matters to me. As long as I have you by my side, I can whittle a stick of wood with a pocket knife and be content.”

Deacon opened the bedroom door to check on Aaron. He was happy to find him sound asleep with Groucho curled up at his side. Pulling the door closed, Deacon tried to make as little noise as possible as he left the house.

He got into his truck and drove downtown for an appointment with George Manning to go over the scene of the fire. The parking spaces in front of the burned out buildings were still blocked off behind yellow crime scene tape, so Deacon performed a U-turn and parked across the street.