Thanks for the critique, RivErStaR... I love the idea--I'll start using it
right away! Sunset, daf9--you are very awesome people :-)
In moments, a large, cluttered mob had gathered on the plaza outside the apartment building. Goren fought his way through throngs of crying children, old ladies in bathrobes, and dazed college students, emerging just as Deakins rushed inside. "Stay outside for the ambulance!" the captain yelled over his shoulder.
Two minutes later, paramedics were dislodging their equipment as the siren screamed over the confused chattering of the crowd and the sound of honking horns. Goren trailed after them as they wheeled a stretcher up the steps and into the lobby. The pair of officers who had first shouted the warning were taken outside, still wheezing and choking. Behind the detective, more sirens wailed as a troop of firefighters hustled their way past him and marched up the stairs.
"We need help up here, this guy's unconscious!" A loud voice floated down the stairwell, and a couple of paramedics rushed to obey.
Feeling strangely disconnected from it all--the noise, the hurried rush of movement, the flashing bright lights--Goren drew back into the recesses of the lobby and tried his cell phone again. On the third attempt, his anger and anxiety boiling over, he was about to slam the phone hard against the wall when Deakin's voice impacted into his skull.
"Goren! Goren, get over here, quick!"
Goren nearly dropped his cell phone as he charged into the stairwell and past the medics milling about on the stairs. "What is it?" he yelled back.
Deakins appeared a few flights above him, peering down at him over the railing. "Found this guy in your apartment--he just revived--"
Goren flew the rest of the way up, ignoring the slow burn in his legs and the furious blows of his heart in his chest. The paramedics were clustered around the stretcher on the fifth floor, administering needles and applying bandages as Deakins hovered at the edge of the crowd. "Can he talk?" the detective demanded, trying to catch a glimpse around the turned backs of the medics.
"Yes," affirmed Deakins; to the paramedics, "Can Detective Goren address a few words to him?"
"Just a few," one answered abstractedly, nodding to the others. They hoisted the stretcher up on its wheels and began the painstaking descent down the stairs in a clatter and clang of metal, Goren and Deakins rushing to keep up.
Goren shoved his way in among the medics to grasp a handle on the stretcher, staring down at the face of the prone man in shock. "That's my superintendant," he muttered softly, remembering at the same moment that the superintendant owned a key to every apartment. Aloud, he said roughly, "What were you doing in my apartment?"
The superintendant, Michael Russell, groaned feebly. "Bobby... I didn't do it," he mumbled, his eyes fluttering. "It wasn't me. I... I went in... just now, and suddenly a fire started on your couch..."
"How?" Goren shouted over the growing noise of confusion and panic. The paramedics had gained the second floor, and people were grouped by the doorway to the lobby, waiting for them.
"I don't know... I saw a match lying there, I guess it just blew up somehow..."
"A match?" Michael's head tossed limply to one side, his breathing laboured. "Michael, talk to me!"
"A match..." The superintendant's voice sounded thick and groggy. A paramedic leaned over him with an oxygen mask; his next words were muffled. "A single match... the box was lying open on the counter... I could see some others scattered all over the place..."
"How did it light?" But the paramedics had sped up their pace, and they were rushing ahead to the ambulance waiting outside. Goren fell back, reeling slightly, as Deakins caught up to him. "The two guys--the guys who raised the alarm," the captain muttered. "Come on."
They hurried outside to the ambulance, where medics were working on the officers. Jaime Kendrick, a tall, slender woman with clear blue eyes, was sitting quietly on the stretcher as a medic gave her a cup of water; Fred Pelley, though lying prone, had his bright green eyes open and blinked at Goren and Deakins as they approached.
"Officer Kendrick, Officer Pelley," Goren said politely; Deakins acknowledged them with a couple of nods. "How are you doing?"
"Good, Detective, thanks," said Kendrick softly, her voice still scratchy and worn from the smoke. Fred inclined his head, a small smile quirking his lips. "You want to ask us some questions, right?"
"Right." Goren sat down on the stretcher next to her. "How did the fire start?"
Kendrick gulped down the last of her water. "We had just got into the apartment, and the superintendant, Mr. Russell, came in after us. He was wandering around, asking us questions like how long we planned on staying, and he was bending over the couch to look at something when--when there was this small explosion, and the couch started burning."
"A match," Goren interrupted. "A match lit on fire."
The officer looked startled. "It had to be that... We ran over to Mr. Russell, he staggered backwards and stumbled into the front hallway, then he fainted. The fumes were starting to fill the place, he must have inhaled too much smoke. I was about to call for help and get out there when I saw Fred at the counter."
Pelley coughed violently, wheezing and rasping, and resumed the story in a low, hoarse voice. "I was there. I was standing over the counter. I saw the matches lying everywhere, in all sorts of places, and I was about to pick the one on the counter up when it exploded in my face."
"How?" Goren pressed.
"Don't know. No wiring, no electricity sparks... I just ran for it," Pelley choked out. Kendrick put a gentle hand on his shoulder, stilling him.
"We ran out of there," Kendrick continued, "the fumes were clogging everything. People were starting to get out of their apartments, and the hallway was crowded. We heard a bunch of the same explosions as we left-- more matches blowing up, I guess."
A medic approached them then. "Officer Kendrick, we're heading for the hospital now, we'll need you to climb in." He indicated the ambulance, its back doors swinging wide open.
"Thanks for your help, Officer." Goren squeezed her shoulder as he jumped down off the stretcher, and gave Pelley an encouraging smile. Kendrick grinned back at him as she climbed into the ambulance, waiting for the medics to haul the stretcher bearing her partner inside.
Goren moved away, distancing himself from the thinning crowd as the ambulance and fire trucks loaded up their equipment. "You stay here," Deakins ordered, "I'll go check with the firefighters--" and he disappeared, vanishing among the group of police officers and medics.
The detective leaned against a nearby tree, staring at his hands. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, strong currents of emotion whirling among them like a breeze dancing with loose fall leaves. The eyewitness accounts he'd just heard ruled out the possibility of an intruder. The matches hadn't been wired to explode and nobody in the apartment had done it, whether by accident or not. His possibilities were wearing thin, and the long, black shadow stretching out at the back of his mind was growing larger.
Alex. He couldn't reach her, and she kept her cell phone on all the time... Where was she? She couldn't be on the plane, not yet... Goren rubbed his hands roughly together, trying brusquely to dispel the growing fear in his heart.
Only one thought stood out clearly in his mind: he needed to talk to somebody, and fast.
Yes, Jaime Kendrick is supposed to be Sylphide ;-) Read and review, please!
In moments, a large, cluttered mob had gathered on the plaza outside the apartment building. Goren fought his way through throngs of crying children, old ladies in bathrobes, and dazed college students, emerging just as Deakins rushed inside. "Stay outside for the ambulance!" the captain yelled over his shoulder.
Two minutes later, paramedics were dislodging their equipment as the siren screamed over the confused chattering of the crowd and the sound of honking horns. Goren trailed after them as they wheeled a stretcher up the steps and into the lobby. The pair of officers who had first shouted the warning were taken outside, still wheezing and choking. Behind the detective, more sirens wailed as a troop of firefighters hustled their way past him and marched up the stairs.
"We need help up here, this guy's unconscious!" A loud voice floated down the stairwell, and a couple of paramedics rushed to obey.
Feeling strangely disconnected from it all--the noise, the hurried rush of movement, the flashing bright lights--Goren drew back into the recesses of the lobby and tried his cell phone again. On the third attempt, his anger and anxiety boiling over, he was about to slam the phone hard against the wall when Deakin's voice impacted into his skull.
"Goren! Goren, get over here, quick!"
Goren nearly dropped his cell phone as he charged into the stairwell and past the medics milling about on the stairs. "What is it?" he yelled back.
Deakins appeared a few flights above him, peering down at him over the railing. "Found this guy in your apartment--he just revived--"
Goren flew the rest of the way up, ignoring the slow burn in his legs and the furious blows of his heart in his chest. The paramedics were clustered around the stretcher on the fifth floor, administering needles and applying bandages as Deakins hovered at the edge of the crowd. "Can he talk?" the detective demanded, trying to catch a glimpse around the turned backs of the medics.
"Yes," affirmed Deakins; to the paramedics, "Can Detective Goren address a few words to him?"
"Just a few," one answered abstractedly, nodding to the others. They hoisted the stretcher up on its wheels and began the painstaking descent down the stairs in a clatter and clang of metal, Goren and Deakins rushing to keep up.
Goren shoved his way in among the medics to grasp a handle on the stretcher, staring down at the face of the prone man in shock. "That's my superintendant," he muttered softly, remembering at the same moment that the superintendant owned a key to every apartment. Aloud, he said roughly, "What were you doing in my apartment?"
The superintendant, Michael Russell, groaned feebly. "Bobby... I didn't do it," he mumbled, his eyes fluttering. "It wasn't me. I... I went in... just now, and suddenly a fire started on your couch..."
"How?" Goren shouted over the growing noise of confusion and panic. The paramedics had gained the second floor, and people were grouped by the doorway to the lobby, waiting for them.
"I don't know... I saw a match lying there, I guess it just blew up somehow..."
"A match?" Michael's head tossed limply to one side, his breathing laboured. "Michael, talk to me!"
"A match..." The superintendant's voice sounded thick and groggy. A paramedic leaned over him with an oxygen mask; his next words were muffled. "A single match... the box was lying open on the counter... I could see some others scattered all over the place..."
"How did it light?" But the paramedics had sped up their pace, and they were rushing ahead to the ambulance waiting outside. Goren fell back, reeling slightly, as Deakins caught up to him. "The two guys--the guys who raised the alarm," the captain muttered. "Come on."
They hurried outside to the ambulance, where medics were working on the officers. Jaime Kendrick, a tall, slender woman with clear blue eyes, was sitting quietly on the stretcher as a medic gave her a cup of water; Fred Pelley, though lying prone, had his bright green eyes open and blinked at Goren and Deakins as they approached.
"Officer Kendrick, Officer Pelley," Goren said politely; Deakins acknowledged them with a couple of nods. "How are you doing?"
"Good, Detective, thanks," said Kendrick softly, her voice still scratchy and worn from the smoke. Fred inclined his head, a small smile quirking his lips. "You want to ask us some questions, right?"
"Right." Goren sat down on the stretcher next to her. "How did the fire start?"
Kendrick gulped down the last of her water. "We had just got into the apartment, and the superintendant, Mr. Russell, came in after us. He was wandering around, asking us questions like how long we planned on staying, and he was bending over the couch to look at something when--when there was this small explosion, and the couch started burning."
"A match," Goren interrupted. "A match lit on fire."
The officer looked startled. "It had to be that... We ran over to Mr. Russell, he staggered backwards and stumbled into the front hallway, then he fainted. The fumes were starting to fill the place, he must have inhaled too much smoke. I was about to call for help and get out there when I saw Fred at the counter."
Pelley coughed violently, wheezing and rasping, and resumed the story in a low, hoarse voice. "I was there. I was standing over the counter. I saw the matches lying everywhere, in all sorts of places, and I was about to pick the one on the counter up when it exploded in my face."
"How?" Goren pressed.
"Don't know. No wiring, no electricity sparks... I just ran for it," Pelley choked out. Kendrick put a gentle hand on his shoulder, stilling him.
"We ran out of there," Kendrick continued, "the fumes were clogging everything. People were starting to get out of their apartments, and the hallway was crowded. We heard a bunch of the same explosions as we left-- more matches blowing up, I guess."
A medic approached them then. "Officer Kendrick, we're heading for the hospital now, we'll need you to climb in." He indicated the ambulance, its back doors swinging wide open.
"Thanks for your help, Officer." Goren squeezed her shoulder as he jumped down off the stretcher, and gave Pelley an encouraging smile. Kendrick grinned back at him as she climbed into the ambulance, waiting for the medics to haul the stretcher bearing her partner inside.
Goren moved away, distancing himself from the thinning crowd as the ambulance and fire trucks loaded up their equipment. "You stay here," Deakins ordered, "I'll go check with the firefighters--" and he disappeared, vanishing among the group of police officers and medics.
The detective leaned against a nearby tree, staring at his hands. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, strong currents of emotion whirling among them like a breeze dancing with loose fall leaves. The eyewitness accounts he'd just heard ruled out the possibility of an intruder. The matches hadn't been wired to explode and nobody in the apartment had done it, whether by accident or not. His possibilities were wearing thin, and the long, black shadow stretching out at the back of his mind was growing larger.
Alex. He couldn't reach her, and she kept her cell phone on all the time... Where was she? She couldn't be on the plane, not yet... Goren rubbed his hands roughly together, trying brusquely to dispel the growing fear in his heart.
Only one thought stood out clearly in his mind: he needed to talk to somebody, and fast.
Yes, Jaime Kendrick is supposed to be Sylphide ;-) Read and review, please!