“Get the ropes,” Martinez said. “Find ladders.”
Henry gripped the nylon cord in his hands and began to climb up the face of the brick school. His boots found toeholds and he used his upper body strength to hoist himself hand over hand toward the rooftop. Martinez was ahead of him, already almost to the top. Someone had found ropes and a grappling hook, taking precious minutes. Then there were the frustrating attempts to get the hook to bite on the roof. All the while, a keening sound rose over the whoosh and roar of the fire.
He pulled himself onto the roof.
The rooftop was gravel, and it was slanted because there were holes in it. Gouts of flame licked the air and smoke seemed to come from everywhere. Henry could feel the heat on his legs and face and hands. The building itself seemed to shift as something inside gave way, and Henry fell forward, catching himself with his hands. The rooftop was as hot as a burning stove. He pushed himself to his feet and ran to follow Martinez, who was already smashing a window next to the gym. Carlos was right behind.
“Carlos, you’re the anchor,” Martinez said.
“Copy that.”
“I’ll go first, then Wilkins.”
Henry helped Carlos hold the line while Martinez slipped through the window. Smoke drifted out. The crying and screaming was louder now.
Henry followed Martinez into hell. Visibility was poor.
On wooden bleachers, thirty or more men, women, and children cowered, trying to escape the flames spreading into the gym.
Once he made it to the top steps, Henry slipped the rope from beneath his armpits. It was chaos. A man was begging him to take his child, screaming in Henry’s face. The acoustics of the room served to amplify the roar of the fire and the squeals of people afraid to die. There were bodies on the wooden floor.
Henry took the child, a boy of maybe seven or eight, and put the rope under his arms. The boy was not crying. His eyes were scrunched shut like he was trying to wake up from what he knew was a nightmare. Like when he opened them again, the world would go back to normal.
Two hard pulls on the rope, and the boy began to slide up toward the window.
They tried to get people to form a line. The civilians were panicked and out of their heads with fear for themselves and for their kids. Henry had to subdue a father and a mother who were clawing at him while he was trying to help someone else. As a father, he understood.
During the bedlam, Henry was relieved to see several firemen coming down ropes. The crowd of trapped people calmed somewhat and the evacuation proceeded.
They got everyone who was still on their feet out, as the fire grew unbearable and the smoke in the gym too thick to see through. Henry tried not to think about the people on the floor, the ones who weren’t moving anymore. There was not enough time to pull them out. It damn sure wasn’t fair.
Henry was the last man off the roof. Carlos, shaking from exhaustion, went just ahead. Much of the roof was gone, and Henry had to step around gaping holes, burning timbers, and blasts of searing ash.
He staggered to the fire truck and accepted an oxygen mask someone put on his face. His eyes burned and teared and his nose was running. Beside him, Martinez nodded, a mask obscuring much of his face, which was covered in soot.
A pretty redhead in a business suit shoved a handheld camera in Henry’s face and started asking questions.
“They say you’re heroes,” she was saying. “Tell our viewers what made you do it?”
“Get lost,” Henry growled.
“Come on, give me something here,” she said. She was trying to be soothing. It sounded to Henry like she was trying to coax a small child into doing something he didn’t want to do. “With all the tragedy happening, this is a great story.”
“You want something? Here it is. Go get fucked.”
“Well—”
“You’ve got one second to get that thing out of my face before I do it for you.”
It hurt to talk. Henry’s throat felt like someone had dumped a bucket of scalding coffee down his gullet. The woman walked away, looking offended. Henry learned later that more than five hundred people from the town had perished in that fire. They had gone there seeking shelter from the war. But there was no safe place. It was not a good story.
KEY WEST, FLORIDA
Suzanne squinted against the glare of the sun on the water, waiting for her father to arrive. In the marina beyond the bar, sailboats and yachts bobbed on gentle waves. The rigging on the sailboats rang against metal masts, a sound Suzanne had always loved. It was a hopeful sound. She did not feel that way now.
A tight-lipped young sailor had delivered an envelope to her, a message from the old man. “Losers, noon,” it said. The tavern was a hangout for locals, mostly service industry people and charter boat hands. She sat at a wooden table stained with bird guano near the dock. Behind her, the bar counter was lined with crusty locals downing warm, flat beer and shots of liquor. A gas generator droned from somewhere inside.
She saw her father then, wearing a straw hat, dark sunglasses, a polo shirt, and khaki shorts, making his way toward her. He looked ridiculous.
He grinned at her as he stepped up to her table, opening his arms. “Hey, Suzy-Q,” he said.
She hugged him. “Hey, Dad.” “What? Not glad to see me?”
“Of course I am. I’ve been worried. Why are you dressed like that?”
“We’ll get to that,” he said, sitting down. “How are you? How is Taylor? I thought you’d be on base.”
“We’re all right, I guess. We’ve got Bart and Mary with us. Ginnie, too. We’re managing.”
“Good. Good. I’m glad you’ve been safe. I don’t know how to say this, so I’m going to come right out with it.”
“That’s a change.”
“Henry’s been killed in action. I’m sorry, baby.”
“What? No. That’s not true. What are you talking about?”
“It’s true. There’s no way to make it better. If there were—”
“No. I’d know. He’s not dead.”
“I only found out yesterday. His whole unit was wiped out.”
“I don’t believe it.”
Suzanne had battled nightmares about this moment. She’d tried to come to grips, knowing the danger her husband was in on an ongoing basis. She’d ultimately gotten through those moments of terror in the middle of the night by deciding Henry was too durable to die. It would not happen. Now, confronted by the fact, she retreated into denial. He could not be dead because she still felt him. Like an invisible thread connected to her soul.
“He is gone. And we’ve got to leave,” Suzanne’s father said.
“No.”
Her father looked exasperated. “What do you mean no? We’ve got to get out of Key West. Today. Now.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“You don’t understand the danger you’re in. Think about Taylor. You don’t want to put her in harm’s way.”
“I am. We’re staying here. It’s home. It’s where Henry will try to get to.”
“Look,” her father said. He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands, took off the sunglasses, and lowered his voice. “There are a lot of things you don’t know. And there’s not much time.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I’ve been working with some people. I’ve been helping you and Henry in your careers. That’s why I did what I did.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s not enough time to explain properly. Let’s just say, I’ve made some friends in high places. People that have a great deal of influence. They’ve moved things along for you and for Henry.”
“So, what? You helped me land an agent? You helped me somehow get my first book deal? With your cronies in the Pentagon? I don’t think so.”