FROM THE WRECKAGE
Copyright © 2015 by Melissa Collins
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of Melissa Collins, except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
EBOOK ISBN-13: 978-0-9863886-5-1
PAPERBACK ISBN-13: 978-0-9863886-6-8
Photography: Kelsey Keeton at K. Keeton Designs
Models: Nathan Weller and Tessi Le’Anne
Cover Design and Graphics: Staci Brillhart at Quirky Bird Designs
Interior Design: Tami Norman at Integrity Formatting
Editor: Becky Johnson at Hot Tree Editing
This novel is dedicated to the memory of all the men and women who lost their lives in the attacks of 9/11,
especially my uncle, Lt. David Halderman, Squad 18, FDNY.
Dedication
Part One ~ Remembered
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part Two ~ Forgotten
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
About From the Wreckage
Acknowledgements
Other Works
Social Media Links
The cool, crisp winter air whips through the evergreens dotting the yard. Powerful and unrelenting, the harsh winds bend the trees almost to their breaking point. Whirring and howling sounds crack through the night air with an almost ghost-like quality. The black expanse of the sky is speckled with a million points of light, some of which are occasionally covered as the clouds pass by on the whim of a blast of wind. On a particularly gusty howl, the newly hung Christmas lights are loosened from their window clips and they skitter across the frosted-over window panes.
Snow piles up thick and heavy into banks against the McCann’s small Cape Cod-style house. The family of three – Mom, Dad and six-year-old Grace – have just recently been welcomed into the neighborhood. Wanting their daughter to go to a good school, Walter and Meredith fought tooth and nail in the crazy bidding war for the house. Luckily, they won and their daughter started first grade in a new and better school district just a few short months ago.
After her parents tuck her under her frilly pink, princess comforter, they kiss her forehead and wish her sweet dreams. Exhaustion washes over little Grace, who hasn’t quite recovered from her exciting day of getting her picture taken with Santa at the mall. Despite the blizzard brewing outside, Grace falls asleep before her parents softly click her bedroom door closed.
She sleeps so soundly in fact, that nothing short of the tree branch crashing through her bedroom window wakes her from her dream-filled sleep. “Daddy!” Grace screams from her now frigid bedroom. Tears streak down her face as her fear-laden paralysis keeps her from moving a single inch. She calls out for her father again – a tiny, wobbly voice shaking with tremors and chills.
“Hey, pumpkin.” Her father bursts through the door – her knight in shining armor. Scooping her up out of her bed into his strong arms, she nuzzles into the safety of his chest. He kisses the top of her head. “Shh. It’s okay, Gracie. Daddy’s got you.” She sniffles and wipes her tears on his flannel pajama shirt. “Puppy,” she whines, reaching out for her stuffed puppy dog.
Bending down with her tiny body still tucked into his arms, he grabs the raggedy stuffed animal. “Of course. How could we forget Puppy? He can’t sleep in here by himself.” She squeezes her beat-up rag doll of an animal as her daddy carries her into his room.
“Mommy!” Grace squeals with delight as her mom reaches out for her baby girl. Folding back the covers and patting the mattress, Grace practically leaps out of her father’s arms to cuddle up with her mommy. “There’s a tree in my room.” Grace’s voice is a bit calmer, but she’s still fiercely gripping her Puppy.
“I heard it! You’re a very brave girl, Gracie.” Her mom pops a sweet kiss to her cheek before Grace nuzzles into the pillow. Inhaling the sweet scent of her mom’s coconut shampoo immediately helps Grace relax even more.
Standing in the doorway, Walter smiles at his wife and daughter. “I’m just going to go get a tarp from the garage and cover the window up for the night.”
Meredith nods as Grace cuddles closer to her. Her light snoring starts to filter into the room as Walter tiptoes out of the master bedroom. Grabbing his heavy winter jacket and slipping his feet into his slippers, Walter heads out to the garage to grab what he needs to put up a make-shift fix for the broken window.
Twenty minutes later, he crawls back into bed, shivering like crazy from the icy cold air that rapidly filled Gracie’s room. Spooning up behind his wife, she nearly shrieks as his ice cold hands grip her waist pulling her into his body.
“My God! Walt, you’re freezing!” He chuckles into her neck and she feels the smirk quirking his lips.
“It was actually snowing in her room. What do you expect?” He shivers once more as he pulls the fluffy comforter up over his shoulders. Wrapping his wife in his arms, as she tucks their daughter into hers, they fall asleep all comfortable wrapped in each other’s warmth.
A hand slaps across his face. “What the hell?” More than startled, Walt shakes his head and lets out a grunt.
Somehow, Meredith manages to choke out her words through the thick, black smoke that’s billowing under the door. “Can’t breathe. Walt…”
Suddenly, his senses go on high alert. He coughs, lungs like razor blades. His eyes tear as he tries to rub the soot away from his brow. “Mer… where’s Gracie?” he manages through the pain.
Reaching out in front of her, Meredith sighs in relief that Gracie is still curled up against her. “I’ve got her, Walt. We need to get out of here.”
They clasp hands as they roll to the floor. Meredith stretches Walt’s hand up to Gracie’s tiny body. “Take her…. I don’t know if I can.”
His strong and capable arms encircle his daughter’s still sleeping body. Secretly, he prays that it’s actually sleep keeping his daughter so still. Who knows how long the smoke was filtering into their room.