Hemlock Bay
Page 72
Lily jerked up in bed, drenched with sweat, and groaned with the sharp ache the abrupt movement brought to her belly. She grabbed her stomach and tried to breathe in deeply.
When she did, she smelled smoke. Yes, it was smoke and it was in her room. That was what was wrong, what had brought her out of the nightmare. The smell of smoke, acrid, stronger now than just a moment before. Then she saw it billowing up around the curtains in the window, black and thick, the curtains just catching fire.
Dear God, the bed-and-breakfast was on fire! She hauled herself out of the high tester bed with its drapey gauze hangings and hit the floor running.
Her door was locked. Where was the key? Not in the door, not on the dresser. She ran to the bathroom, wet a towel, and pressed it against her face.
She ran to the phone, dialed 911. The phone was dead. Someone had set the fire and cut the phone lines. Or had the fire knocked out the lines? Didn’t matter, she had to get out. Flames now, in the bedroom, licking up around the edges of the rug beneath that window with its light and gauzy draperies. She raced, bowed over, to the wall and began banging on it. “Simon! Simon!”
She heard him then, shouting back to her. “Lily, get the hell out of there, now!”
“My door’s locked. I can’t get it open!”
“I’m coming! Stay low to the floor.”
But Lily couldn’t just lie down and wait to be rescued. She was too scared. She ran back to the door and banged her shoulder hard against it. The collision jarred her and left her gasping. She picked up a chair and smashed it hard into the door. The chair nearly bounced off it. The door shuddered a bit but nothing happened. The damned door wasn’t hollow. It was old-fashioned and solid wood. She heard Simon jerk his door open, heard him knocking on doors, yelling. Thank God he hadn’t been locked in like she was.
Then he was at her door, and she quickly moved back. She heard him kick it, saw it shudder. Then he kicked it hard again, and the door slammed inward. “You okay?”
“Yes. We’ve got to warn everyone.” She began coughing, doubled over, and he didn’t hesitate. He picked her up in his arms and carried her down the wide mahogany staircase.
Mrs. Blade was in the lobby, and she was helping out a very old lady who was sobbing quietly.
“It’s Mrs. Nast. She’s a permanent resident. I tried to call nine-one-one but the line’s dead, of all things. There are people on the third floor, Mr. Russo. Please get them.”
“I’ve already called nine-one-one on my cell phone. They’re on their way.” Simon set Lily down and ran back up the stairs. He heard her hacking cough as he ran.
He didn’t get to the top of the stairs alone. Beside him at the last minute were firemen, all garbed up and yelling for him to get back downstairs and out of the building.
He nodded, then saw a young woman struggling with two children, coughing, trying to pull them down the corridor. The two firemen had their hands full with other guests. Simon simply grabbed all three of them up in his arms and carried them downstairs. They were all coughing by the time they got out the front door, the kids crying and the mother holding herself together, comforting them, thanking him again and again until he just put his hand over her mouth. “It’s okay. Take care of your kids.”
They saved a lot of The Mermaid’s Tail, thank God, and all of the ten people staying there. No serious injuries, just some smoke inhalation.
Colin Smith, the agent sent over by Clark Hoyt to maintain an overnight watch on the bed-and-breakfast, told them he’d seen two men sneaking around, followed and lost them, turned back to see the smoke billowing up, and immediately called the fire department. That was why most of The Mermaid’s Tail was still standing.
Agent Smith left them, after making certain they were okay, to repeat his story to the fire chief and the arson investigator, who’d just arrived.
Simon was holding Lily close to him. She was barefoot, wearing a long white flannel nightgown that came to her ankles, and her hair was straggling around her shoulders. He’d managed to scramble into jeans and a sweater and sneakers before he’d left his bedroom. He blew out, but didn’t see his breath. It was cold, probably just below fifty degrees, and the firemen were distributing coats and blankets to all the victims. Neighbors were coming out with more blankets and coffee, even some rolls to eat.
Simon said, “You okay, Lily?”
She only nodded. “We’re alive. That’s all that matters. The bastards. I can’t believe they set the entire place on fire. So many people could have been hurt, even killed.”
When she did, she smelled smoke. Yes, it was smoke and it was in her room. That was what was wrong, what had brought her out of the nightmare. The smell of smoke, acrid, stronger now than just a moment before. Then she saw it billowing up around the curtains in the window, black and thick, the curtains just catching fire.
Dear God, the bed-and-breakfast was on fire! She hauled herself out of the high tester bed with its drapey gauze hangings and hit the floor running.
Her door was locked. Where was the key? Not in the door, not on the dresser. She ran to the bathroom, wet a towel, and pressed it against her face.
She ran to the phone, dialed 911. The phone was dead. Someone had set the fire and cut the phone lines. Or had the fire knocked out the lines? Didn’t matter, she had to get out. Flames now, in the bedroom, licking up around the edges of the rug beneath that window with its light and gauzy draperies. She raced, bowed over, to the wall and began banging on it. “Simon! Simon!”
She heard him then, shouting back to her. “Lily, get the hell out of there, now!”
“My door’s locked. I can’t get it open!”
“I’m coming! Stay low to the floor.”
But Lily couldn’t just lie down and wait to be rescued. She was too scared. She ran back to the door and banged her shoulder hard against it. The collision jarred her and left her gasping. She picked up a chair and smashed it hard into the door. The chair nearly bounced off it. The door shuddered a bit but nothing happened. The damned door wasn’t hollow. It was old-fashioned and solid wood. She heard Simon jerk his door open, heard him knocking on doors, yelling. Thank God he hadn’t been locked in like she was.
Then he was at her door, and she quickly moved back. She heard him kick it, saw it shudder. Then he kicked it hard again, and the door slammed inward. “You okay?”
“Yes. We’ve got to warn everyone.” She began coughing, doubled over, and he didn’t hesitate. He picked her up in his arms and carried her down the wide mahogany staircase.
Mrs. Blade was in the lobby, and she was helping out a very old lady who was sobbing quietly.
“It’s Mrs. Nast. She’s a permanent resident. I tried to call nine-one-one but the line’s dead, of all things. There are people on the third floor, Mr. Russo. Please get them.”
“I’ve already called nine-one-one on my cell phone. They’re on their way.” Simon set Lily down and ran back up the stairs. He heard her hacking cough as he ran.
He didn’t get to the top of the stairs alone. Beside him at the last minute were firemen, all garbed up and yelling for him to get back downstairs and out of the building.
He nodded, then saw a young woman struggling with two children, coughing, trying to pull them down the corridor. The two firemen had their hands full with other guests. Simon simply grabbed all three of them up in his arms and carried them downstairs. They were all coughing by the time they got out the front door, the kids crying and the mother holding herself together, comforting them, thanking him again and again until he just put his hand over her mouth. “It’s okay. Take care of your kids.”
They saved a lot of The Mermaid’s Tail, thank God, and all of the ten people staying there. No serious injuries, just some smoke inhalation.
Colin Smith, the agent sent over by Clark Hoyt to maintain an overnight watch on the bed-and-breakfast, told them he’d seen two men sneaking around, followed and lost them, turned back to see the smoke billowing up, and immediately called the fire department. That was why most of The Mermaid’s Tail was still standing.
Agent Smith left them, after making certain they were okay, to repeat his story to the fire chief and the arson investigator, who’d just arrived.
Simon was holding Lily close to him. She was barefoot, wearing a long white flannel nightgown that came to her ankles, and her hair was straggling around her shoulders. He’d managed to scramble into jeans and a sweater and sneakers before he’d left his bedroom. He blew out, but didn’t see his breath. It was cold, probably just below fifty degrees, and the firemen were distributing coats and blankets to all the victims. Neighbors were coming out with more blankets and coffee, even some rolls to eat.
Simon said, “You okay, Lily?”
She only nodded. “We’re alive. That’s all that matters. The bastards. I can’t believe they set the entire place on fire. So many people could have been hurt, even killed.”
