M. Leighton - Some Like It Wild

I could be cruel and say more, but there’s no call for that.

Little gasps and titters begin all around me. The buzz is already starting. I’ll be the talk of the town. And not in a good way. And for the first time in my life, I really, genuinely don’t care. I’ve lived my life under the microscope of these people for far too long. It’s time to show them who Laney is. The real Laney.

Shane tries to recover as I reclaim my hand. “Is this some kind of a joke?” he hisses.

“What kind of a sick joke would this be, Shane? Something sick like trying to play off you cheating on me as part of a ‘prank’? Is that what you mean?”

I hear my parents gasp and I smother my satisfied smile. Now they know.

Shane stands to his feet, all evidence of the suave, composed gentleman gone. He leans in close to me. “You’re nothing but a filthy little whore,” he spits into my ear. I simply roll my eyes. I hope my parents are close enough to hear this part, too. Maybe they’ll get to see what Shane is really like. Maybe they can have someone new to hate, someone other than Jake Theopolis.

“I guess that’s just your opinion, Shane. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

I spin on my heel, ready to make my grand exit, when Shane reaches out and grabs my upper arm, jerking me to a rough stop. “You know what, whore? I would’ve given Tori the ride of her life if she hadn’t stopped me. You were never enough woman for me.”

I half laugh, half sigh. “Nice, Shane. Real nice.”

Shaking my head, I wrench my arm free and turn to walk away, not giving anyone an explanation. They can make up whatever story suits them. I’ve got a life and a future to tend to.

It’s as I’m nearing the door that I hear the explosion. And I feel the gush of heat.

I’m not at all surprised when the siren goes off. I knew something would happen tonight. I just knew it.

When the call comes in, I think little of the address. The church’s fellowship hall. If I’m not mistaken, it’s equipped with a full, commercial-style kitchen. Grease fires happen all the time in places like that. Makes a shitload of smoke, but generally they aren’t too out of control, staying confined mostly to the kitchen.

But then, just as four of us are piling into the truck, we get word that it was a propane tank explosion. And that the hall was full of people. For an engagement party.

My never-wrong gut twists and I feel a cold sweat break out on my brow. I have one thought. Of one face.

Laney.

It’s her. I know it’s her. Laney’s in town. She’s there and there’s been an explosion.

I don’t even try to imagine what kind of function she might be in town for that’s held at the church. The dull ache in my chest seems to think it’s to celebrate her reunion with her fiancé. But right now, it really doesn’t matter what she’s in town for. I don’t give a big ugly shit about her fiancé. All I care about is that she’s not in danger. That she’s not lying on the ground somewhere, burning alive.

A burst of nausea tears through my gut at the mental image of Laney covered in third degree burns. I’ve seen it too many times, been to too many fires that were raging before we could make it to the scene.

I squeeze my eyes shut against the image, reminding myself that this is a small town. It will only take us a few minutes to be onsite. Helping. Saving lives. Controlling the fire.

Saving Laney.

When the truck makes the turn onto the street, I look out the window. The first thing I see is a sign at the front of the street that says, CONGRATULATIONS, SHANE AND LANEY. My heart sinks at that.

And it sinks even lower when we pull into the lot and I see the wreckage.

“Looks like the tank wasn’t full or it would’ve blown that place to bits,” Ronnie says.

I’m not comforted. One wall was blown out completely. Fire is eating away at the rest. And the roof is hanging precariously over it all.

“Respirators on, guys,” Chip yells. I look around. They’re already in place. We all know what to expect.

My heart is racing by the time we pull to a stop and everyone jumps out to do what we do best.

Behind the shield of my helmet, I process the scene as I approach. I scan the tear-streaked and smoke-smudged faces. I search the bewildered and terrified eyes. I see it all. I take it all in. But the one thing I want most to see, the one person I want most to see, is nowhere to be found.

Turning my body 360 degrees, I scan the crowd once more for Laney. There are a lot of people out here. Surely this is the majority of those who were in attendance. The building isn’t that big. But in all these faces I don’t see the only one I care about. The only one that matters. And I know, deep down, that nothing will matter again if I don’t find her. Dead or alive.

I ask one of the more coherent people I pass, “Is anyone left inside?”

She nods, sobbing all the while.

“Is Laney in there?”

Again she nods. “She went back in a few minutes ago. She was helping people out, but there were some still inside . . .”

Before the woman can finish, I turn to Chip and motion that I’m going inside. I run up the short flight of stairs and step through the doorway, careful not to touch anything.

The room is ablaze. The curtains are on fire. The flower arrangements on the tables are on fire. There are flaming pieces of paper floating through the air. There are blazing bits of banner scattered across the floor. Some of the exposed beams from the ceiling have let go on one end to form what looks like a flame-soaked obstacle course.

Across the room, I see the gaping hole where the one wall was blown to bits. I also see where the remaining three are struggling to support the weight of the sagging roof.

This place is gonna go any minute now.

I have to find Laney.

I look through the bright orange haze, searching the billows of smoke for her pale head, but I see nothing. I see no upright bodies. No movement. No life.

I feel the beginnings of desperation set in. I look ahead and see a path that could possibly lead me safely into the center of the room, where I’ll have a better vantage point. Cautiously, I walk in that direction.

I turn the valve on my mask, something I know I shouldn’t do. “Laney!” I call, knowing full well that with the roar of the fire and the crackle of the structure giving way there’s no way she can hear me. But I yell again anyway. “Laney!”

As I duck beneath a huge wooden beam, I see the most glorious sight in the world—a shiny, blond head. I see Laney. She has something wrapped around her face, but I’d recognize her anywhere, wearing anything.

She’s making her way into the flames, going farther into the room. Lurching forward, I reach out for her, stopping her before she can go in any deeper. I spin her toward me and look into the face I’ve missed so much. I see recognition light her eyes, and she throws her arms around me.

So tight I could probably hurt her, I wrap my arms around her and lift her off the ground. Holding her against my chest, I turn and hurry back the way I came. My heart is racing, but this time with gratitude. And relief. And something else.

When I reach the door, I’m hesitant to release Laney, but I feel her struggling, so I let her down. There are tears in her eyes when she looks up at me. Tears and sheer panic.

“Jake, there are still people in there!” she says frantically.

I push her hair back from her face to get a good look at her. She looks all right, just freaked out. “Shhh, Laney, it’s okay. We’ll get them out. Don’t worry.”

“No, Jake, you don’t understand. I have to go back in there. Please.”