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Despite the turbulence, his body reeling, he heard her calling him.
At first, his foggy mind dismissed it. Then he saw her waving at him over the windshield. He shouted that he was done in, but she shook her head and yelled back, “The engine turned over on the last crank. I’m not sure, I think I heard it pop from the muffler.”
Sam struggled to his feet and grabbed the crank handle. His final effort, urged on by his beloved soul mate. This time he swung the crank using both hands with the little strength he had left. There was a muffled pop out the exhaust pipe. Sam felt as if he entered another dimension. With renewed effort, he swung the crank again.
This time the popping sound became a low growl as Remi pumped the gas pedal to raise the rpm’s. The old engine coughed a few times and began to growl, then turned over smoothly without losing a beat.
“I’ll take it from here!” Sam yelled to Remi above the crackling flames now in tune with the crumbling walls of the warehouse. “Take the passenger seat and hunch down.”
The huge tires hissed as they rolled over the spreading pools of burning oil. No time to be clever, Sam aimed the big silver-plated globe in front on a straight course toward the huge iron barrier, put the truck into first gear, and mashed the gas pedal to the floor.
The Ahrens-Fox approached the iron barrier at a speed Sam didn’t think possible. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand and threw an arm around Remi when the pumper was less than five feet from the massive doors.
At almost the same instant of the collision, the entire roof and the two remaining walls collapsed in a black glow of whirling smoke. The pumper plunged into the great door with a horrendous crash that sounded like the burst of an explosive.
The massive door refused to fall after the old vehicle came to an abrupt stop. Sam was surprised to see so much damage to the fire engine. Amazingly, it was still running, but the valves and pumps on the front end were a mangled mess.
“Hit it again!” Remi shouted like a cheerleader at a college football game.
Sam made no reply except to grind the transmission gear into reverse, backing up fifty feet, before shifting into first gear.
Crouched behind Sam, Oliver looked as if he was lost in a tunnel.
Sam ignored the growing agony in his hands and tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he rammed the gas pedal into the floorboard. The engine rattled like it was about to blow apart, but it responded by leaping forward and smashing into the door. Agonizing seconds that seemed like a full minute passed but nothing happened. Then slowly, incredibly slowly, the hinges began tearing away from the doorframe where they had been welded. Shattered, they ripped away, the massive door seeming to hesitate, frozen in time, before falling forward and crashing flat onto the cobblestone street with a great roar. Sam steered through the burning debris until they were in the clear and stopped under gushes of water from the firemen Remi had called.
Taking deep breaths to clear their lungs, they climbed down to the street.
“Now, that was a close call, Fargo,” Remi said.
“You doubted us?”
“Never us. The fire truck.”
“An Ahrens-Fox? How could you?” Sam took Remi in his arms, brushed the hair from her face, kissed her sooty forehead, backed away, holding out a little something he found. “I believe this is yours. A souvenir to remember an exciting day.”
Remi’s eyes widened as she reached behind her head, groping in her mussed hair for the little wire she had used to tie her ponytail. Sam passed it to her. “I found it on the floorboard below the brake pedal.”
Remi put her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him.
“I remember now why I married you. You’re hopelessly sentimental.”
19
Once the fire department had cleared what was left of the building, and the police report made—without mentioning that Sam or Remi had shot back at the gunmen—Sam watched as the investigator took photos of the door they’d escaped through.
“You’re lucky you got out,” the officer said.
To be sure, Sam eyed what was left of the building. Had it not been for the antique fire engine, they would never have escaped.
He looked over at the building where the camera was mounted, asking the investigator, “Any chance we can get a copy of that video?”
“I’ll check into it for you.”
Turned out that the camera was non-operational.
A little too convenient, in Sam’s mind, especially considering the camera was working when it showed Oliver’s uncle stealing the car.
* * *