Kate George

Crazy Little Thing Called Dead Writing Sample Copyright 2012 Kate George I opened my eyes to Beagle Annie tugging on my sweat pants and the smell of hot smoke making me cough. Some part of my brain sprang into panic, but I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. I rolled off the bed and fell onto the floor when my legs wouldn’t hold me up. Roaring came from the stairs and when I forced my eyes open I could see the reflection of the flames. My head pounding I crawled to the door. Flames already consumed the other end of the hall. I slammed the bedroom door closed. I lay on the floor, willing my body to cooperate while Annie howled in my ear and jabbed me with her nose. I drifted until she got a mouthful of my hair and pulled. “Annie, stop.” I forced myself over to the window and pulled myself up, leaning on the sill. I rested my face on the window but I couldn’t think what to do next. Someone was yelling but all I wanted to do was sleep. Beagle Annie nipped me. “Yow! That hurts. “I opened the window and gingerly touched the metal porch roof. Still cool. “Annie! Out!” She jumped gracefully out onto the roof. I rolled myself out and lay flat on the roof. There were voices urging me to move. I needed just a minute. One minute to clear my head. Beagle Annie grabbed my pant leg, and I was going to tell her to give me a minute but Max’s voice was in my ear. “Come on, little girl. We’ve got to get you to safety.” I was lifted, and handed off to someone on a ladder. “Annie!” Where was my dog? “I’ve got her. Don’t you worry,” Max said. My chest was so constricted I could barely breathe. Thoughts of Ranger, Diesel and Hank somewhere in the flames on the main floor seared through me. Wake up! Vehicles pulled into the door yard as more volunteer firefighters arrived ahead of the fire engines. I could hear the wail of the emergency vehicles approaching. The firefighter set me on the ground near my truck. I took Beagle Annie from Max but she launched herself from my arms and raced onto the porch running back and forth emitting a high pitched howl. I started to get to my feet, my brain at least had started to cooperate, but Max grabbed me from behind. “No, Bree, You can’t go up there.” I struggled against Max, crying and screaming for him to let me go. Fire engines rolled into the drive, and then an explosion from my kitchen that burst the windows outward. Beagle Annie ran back to me and I held her tightly as she squirmed, yowling and nipping at me. When she bit my hand, I lost my grip and she jumped from my arms and ran through the door behind a firefighter and into the fire. “No!” My heart stopped beating. I tore myself from Max but another set of strong arms wrapped around me pulling me away, back. “Easy.” It was Tom’s voice in my ear. “There’s nothing you can do.” “The dogs.” The words were so distorted by the sobbing I didn’t think he’d be able to understand me. “We’ll look for them, Bree, but don’t hold out hope. I’m sorry.” I stood next to the fire truck and watched my house burn. The ambulance came and the paramedics made me sit down, but I refused to leave. The interior of the house was engulfed. It was shingled in asbestos and from what the fire fighters were saying it just made everything worse. There was nowhere for the heat to escape making it impossible for them to get inside. A spark caught the chicken coop on fire. I stumbled to the enclosure, fighting the gate in my haste and was able to open the hen house door before I was dragged away again. Restrained by a fire fighter and then an EMT, I fought to calm myself but the horror overwhelmed me. I wanted to be helping, to be doing something, not helplessly watching my life erased by fire. A small shadow moved through the door, small and black against the red smoke of the interior. A firefighter scooped her up and brought her to me. It was Beagle Annie with Annabelle Cat in her mouth. They were both a mess, singed and black. I couldn’t tell if Annabelle Cat was alive, but Beagle Annie was whining. “Good Girl, Annie.” I gently patted the top of her head, the one place that didn’t look burned and sore. Her tail thumped and she looked at me with her black rimmed beagle eyes. Tears gathered behind my eyes and constricted my throat. An EMT came to look at her. She knelt and gently removed Annabelle Cat from Beagle Annie’s mouth. She listened to Beagle Annie’s breathing and placed an oxygen mask over her nose, but I knew from the techs movements that she didn’t hold any hope. “Sweet, sweet, dog,” I said. “Best dog. Brave, brave girl.” Beagle Annie’s tail thumped twice more and then lay still. Her breathing stopped. I closed her eyes and stood up, needing to be out of the hustle and noise, away from all this. I practically ran to the barn forcing my legs to cooperate. I let myself into an empty stall, slumped into a corner. Curled in the hay. I almost didn’t recognize the keening was coming from me. I rocked and sobbed. Dust and grief clogging my throat, my face wet. I shattered, and broke and pounded my fist against the sawdust-covered concrete. I knew who had done this, and she would pay. Eventually Hambecker found me. I was curled on the floor, numb. Not sleeping, but not really awake, I didn’t really become aware of him until he touched my shoulder. I blinked at him, unsure why he was there. He pulled me to him holding me close and I cried again while he rocked me in his arms and made soothing noises. When I stopped crying he picked me up and carried me from the stall.