“You can and you will,” he said gruffly. The smoke was thicker now above, and he could feel the heat from below. They had a minute here, maybe two.
“Stanwyck!” someone shouted. Murphy. “You in there?”
“Back bedroom. One female. Still conscious. I got her.” His arms were on her shoulders and she was struggling to stand.
“Don’t stand. We have to crawl out now. The smoke is too thick.”
Murphy shined a bright flashlight in the room, illuminating what little could be seen in the two feet above the floor. “This way out!” he shouted. “Two minutes, max!”
“The cats! And grandma and grandpa!” Laura cried, trying to stand and walk toward Murphy. He could see her shins and knees and then nothing—grey.
Yanking her hand, hard, he made her fall. “The cats are probably outside by now. Don’t stand!” he warned, nearly growling. “Follow me!” Fear made him a lousy leader. And what did she mean by “grandma” and “grandpa”?
“Are your grandparents here, Laura?”
“No!” she wailed. “They diiiiied.” Her voice took on a keening tone and she began to rock. Oh, shit. No time for this.
“Crawl!” he ordered. Murphy started toward them on all fours, the line of light bobbing and weaving in his hand.
“I can’t! The baby!” She sat on her ass and began what looked like an agonizing crab walk, her ass dragging.
Baby? Baby?
Murphy’s flashlight ray landed on her belly in that instant, illuminating a very obvious mound. She was pregnant? A zing of every emotion he’d ever felt, from joy to agony, flashed through him.
Grabbing the covers off the bed, he thew them on the ground and spread them out. “Get on,” he barked. Somehow, her addled state cleared enough for her to comply.
“Murphy! Help!” he begged. Crawling, he dragged Laura a few feet using one hand. The hardwood floors were a godsend right now. “Clear the way—remove the area rugs!”
“Done!” the gruff man shouted.
Two more pulls and Dylan barely had her in the living room. He was doing this wrong. Murphy came in and planted himself in front of Laura.
“I’ll pull, you push,” Murph suggested. Within seconds they had it figured out, blind and coughing, freeing her into the hallway which was blessedly more clear. Dylan stood, slid his arms under her, and ran out into the fresh air, hefting Laura delicately.
“Here!” A paramedic from a nearby ambulance company waved him in. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mike, then Josie, but couldn’t say anything as Laura coughed and mumbled.
“Shhhh,” he said as he laid her down on the gurney. “Twenty-nine year old caucasian female, pregnant. How far along are you, Laura?” he asked.
“Nineteen weeks.” Her voice was getting smaller, her breathing more labored. Shit—how much smoke had she inhaled? He could see Mike and Josie trying to come over, a cop behind yellow tape blocking them, Mike arguing and gesturing wildly.
Then Josie slipped under the tape and sprinted, screaming “She’s pregnant!” Mike’s arms stopped in mid-air, his face agog. Dylan would have to deal with him later.
“I’m so sorry,” Laura rasped. “I was about to tell you, but...”
Dylan kissed her forehead and smiled, sniffing as he cried tears he didn’t know he was capable of. “It’s complicated,” he whispered.
She choked out a very weak laugh and said, “It’s always—” before losing consciousness.
Mike broke past the cop and shouted “Laura!” as the paramedics worked on her, loading her into the ambulance, Josie seamlessly climbing in for the ride. “Brigham” she mouthed to him as the lights turned on, the sirens roared, the back of the ambulance shrinking, then turning left, out of sight.
Of course they would take her to Brigham and Women’s Hospital. That’s where all the high risk pregnancies—
Fingertips touched his soot-covered arm tentatively. “Dylan? Is she—” Mike stood there, wild-eyed and shirtless, flip-flops on his feet and running shorts thrown on. He’d clearly raced here from the cabin. How did he get here so fast?
“She’s breathing. They’re taking her to the Brigham. How’d you get here so fast?”
“I’m at a meditation retreat here in town.” He shook his head impatiently. “The Brigham? Why would they take her there? You always said that’s where...” Mike’s voice faded out. “Oh, holy fuck.”
Dylan slipped to the ground, his own body coming into sharp focus. Lungs were a bit wheezy, his body covered in black, feet floating in sockless boots, brain hurting. “She’s pregnant, Mike. Nineteen weeks.”