Page 66
Story: Pirates in Calusa Cove
She let sleep overtake her body, doing her best to ignore that little voice because each moment in life built on another. And then another.
And hopefully, this was just the beginning.
Keaton jerked awake.An alarm blared in his ears. One constant, loud siren. Only, it wasn’t the sound attachedto waking him up. That noise seldom went off. He always woke before that happened. He had an internal clock that naturally made his body and mind come alive somewhere between four thirty and five. It had been ingrained in his psyche since the military and hadn’t disappeared in civilian life.
He rubbed his eyes and sprang to his feet. Leaning over the bed, he reached for Trinity’s good arm. “Wake up.” He shook her a little too harshly. “Come on, babe, we’ve got to get out of the house, now.” He turned and pulled back the curtains. Fire surrounded the back of the house. The flames stretched high. They were wild and danced toward the sky. They smacked against the glass like fists punching a wall. It wouldn’t be long before it went inside by shattering the pane into pieces.
“Huh. What?” She wiped the hair from her face. “What the hell is that sound?”
“The fire alarm,” Keaton said as calmly as he could. His sense of smell registered the smoke. It filled his lungs, constricting his breath.
So did the scent of gas. It was intense and could only mean one thing.
This was no accident.
He snagged his jeans, hiked them over his hips, grabbed his weapon, and snatched up his cell. “Put some clothes on and let’s go.” His voice was stern—commanding—and he didn’t like speaking to her in that tone. But now, his skin felt the heat. He didn’t know where the fire had started, except he suspected someone had doused his home with gas and lit a match.
He needed to get to Monty, and they all needed to get out.
Trinity didn’t need to be told twice. She did exactly what he asked her to do without question. “My dad,” she whispered.
Keaton raced to the bedroom door. Before opening it, he placed his hand on the wood panel. It wasn’t too hot. He put his ear to it. He couldn’t hear the roar of the flames. Nor did he see smoke coming from under the door. Carefully, he tugged on the knob.
He swallowed, staring at the yellow and orange that glowed on the walls. The fire appeared to be mainly on the outside frame of the home, but it had broken through the barrier and crawled up the walls of his foyer. The curtains were all but gone. He glanced to his right.
The couch had sparks as a few flames grew. More flames danced outside the glass sliders.
“Monty,” he yelled as he tapped on his cell, texting the SOS to his buddies. Hayes was working tonight, so he could act immediately, and Keaton wouldn’t have to call the fire department, killing two birds with one text.
That worked because Hayes immediately texted with an ETA for his home.
“Monty, can you hear me? We need to get out of the house.” He took Trinity by the hand. “Stay close,” he said as he inched through the house. Both exits were covered in flames, cutting them off from being able to use them as escape routes.
“Daddy!” Trinity’s voice screeched, and she tugged hard at his hand, trying to get to her dad.
“What the hell is going on?” Monty appeared on the other side of the kitchen. “There’s a fire outside.”
“I know.” Keaton nodded. “Can we get out of your window?” he asked.
Monty shook his head. “The fire made its way inside my room.” He covered his mouth and coughed. “I tried opening the window, and it won’t budge. It’s as if it’s locked.”
“That’s impossible,” Keaton said. “Stay right here in the middle of the room.” He huddled his two houseguests in the safest spot and went to the sliders, jumping over a few flames. That was the safest exit right now. He unlocked the door and yanked.
Nothing. Someone had barricaded it from the outside.
How had he not known? They should have tripped his motion detectors. His alarm should have gone off long before the fire alarms had. “I’m going to have to break the glass,” he said. “Go to my bedroom and get some sheets. Douse them in water and wrap yourselves in them.”
“Okay,” Monty agreed as he grabbed his daughter.
“But Daddy, we can’t leave him out here to?—”
“You can and you will.” Keaton glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.” He took the blanket from the sofa and wrapped it around his hand and arm. “Trust me. Hayes and the fire department are on the way.” He pleaded with her with his eyes. Begging her to do as she was told.
“Okay.” She took off with her dad, thank God.
He stared at his hand. That was dumb. He took hisweapon, gripped it, and rewrapped the blanket to protect his arm. He smacked the glass once. It barely cracked. He did it again. Not much more. A third time provided spider cracks, but it didn’t break.
He hit it four… five… six times… and finally, on the seventh hit, the damn thing broke. Glass went flying everywhere.
And hopefully, this was just the beginning.
Keaton jerked awake.An alarm blared in his ears. One constant, loud siren. Only, it wasn’t the sound attachedto waking him up. That noise seldom went off. He always woke before that happened. He had an internal clock that naturally made his body and mind come alive somewhere between four thirty and five. It had been ingrained in his psyche since the military and hadn’t disappeared in civilian life.
He rubbed his eyes and sprang to his feet. Leaning over the bed, he reached for Trinity’s good arm. “Wake up.” He shook her a little too harshly. “Come on, babe, we’ve got to get out of the house, now.” He turned and pulled back the curtains. Fire surrounded the back of the house. The flames stretched high. They were wild and danced toward the sky. They smacked against the glass like fists punching a wall. It wouldn’t be long before it went inside by shattering the pane into pieces.
“Huh. What?” She wiped the hair from her face. “What the hell is that sound?”
“The fire alarm,” Keaton said as calmly as he could. His sense of smell registered the smoke. It filled his lungs, constricting his breath.
So did the scent of gas. It was intense and could only mean one thing.
This was no accident.
He snagged his jeans, hiked them over his hips, grabbed his weapon, and snatched up his cell. “Put some clothes on and let’s go.” His voice was stern—commanding—and he didn’t like speaking to her in that tone. But now, his skin felt the heat. He didn’t know where the fire had started, except he suspected someone had doused his home with gas and lit a match.
He needed to get to Monty, and they all needed to get out.
Trinity didn’t need to be told twice. She did exactly what he asked her to do without question. “My dad,” she whispered.
Keaton raced to the bedroom door. Before opening it, he placed his hand on the wood panel. It wasn’t too hot. He put his ear to it. He couldn’t hear the roar of the flames. Nor did he see smoke coming from under the door. Carefully, he tugged on the knob.
He swallowed, staring at the yellow and orange that glowed on the walls. The fire appeared to be mainly on the outside frame of the home, but it had broken through the barrier and crawled up the walls of his foyer. The curtains were all but gone. He glanced to his right.
The couch had sparks as a few flames grew. More flames danced outside the glass sliders.
“Monty,” he yelled as he tapped on his cell, texting the SOS to his buddies. Hayes was working tonight, so he could act immediately, and Keaton wouldn’t have to call the fire department, killing two birds with one text.
That worked because Hayes immediately texted with an ETA for his home.
“Monty, can you hear me? We need to get out of the house.” He took Trinity by the hand. “Stay close,” he said as he inched through the house. Both exits were covered in flames, cutting them off from being able to use them as escape routes.
“Daddy!” Trinity’s voice screeched, and she tugged hard at his hand, trying to get to her dad.
“What the hell is going on?” Monty appeared on the other side of the kitchen. “There’s a fire outside.”
“I know.” Keaton nodded. “Can we get out of your window?” he asked.
Monty shook his head. “The fire made its way inside my room.” He covered his mouth and coughed. “I tried opening the window, and it won’t budge. It’s as if it’s locked.”
“That’s impossible,” Keaton said. “Stay right here in the middle of the room.” He huddled his two houseguests in the safest spot and went to the sliders, jumping over a few flames. That was the safest exit right now. He unlocked the door and yanked.
Nothing. Someone had barricaded it from the outside.
How had he not known? They should have tripped his motion detectors. His alarm should have gone off long before the fire alarms had. “I’m going to have to break the glass,” he said. “Go to my bedroom and get some sheets. Douse them in water and wrap yourselves in them.”
“Okay,” Monty agreed as he grabbed his daughter.
“But Daddy, we can’t leave him out here to?—”
“You can and you will.” Keaton glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.” He took the blanket from the sofa and wrapped it around his hand and arm. “Trust me. Hayes and the fire department are on the way.” He pleaded with her with his eyes. Begging her to do as she was told.
“Okay.” She took off with her dad, thank God.
He stared at his hand. That was dumb. He took hisweapon, gripped it, and rewrapped the blanket to protect his arm. He smacked the glass once. It barely cracked. He did it again. Not much more. A third time provided spider cracks, but it didn’t break.
He hit it four… five… six times… and finally, on the seventh hit, the damn thing broke. Glass went flying everywhere.
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