Valley of Muloor

6. Backdraft

I could barely make out anything as the rain poured, marring my eye sight as droplets left my eyelashes clinging together.

"What the hell are you yelling about?" I shouted back, my teeth gritting as the pain in my foot grew.

"I saw you breaking and entering! Now hands where I can see them!"

"I bloody live here, you idiot!" I responded annoyedly and stepped forward, only to scream in pain and fall into the dirt. Clutching my foot with my now muddy hands, I heard the fence rattle as the figure climbed over. My vision was still blurred from the rain, and maybe a few tears, and I was yet to figure out who the stranger was.

"Are you crazy? Why can't you just go through the gate like every other normal person?" The deep voice rumbled, and crouched next to me. As I looked up, I could finally make out a pair of familiar dark eyes. "Why did you scream?" He asked, this time in a gentler tone.

"My foot," I muttered, breaking the eye contact.

"What did you do to it?"

"More like what you did. You scared me to death and I dropped a bloody wrench on it." I shot him a glare. His mouth curved up as he suppressed a smirk.

"Maybe you shouldn't climb over fences like a bloody criminal," he mocked as he inspected my foot. "Can I help in any way? Maybe start by getting you out of this rain?" As he stood, I realised he was in uniform.

He offered me his hand and helped haul me up and out of the mud. I attempted to put pressure on my foot and cringed as pain shot up.

"I need to grab the tools before they go rusty. I doubt my uncle would appreciate that," I mumbled.

"Let's get you under cover and I'll grab the tools." He persisted, and led me toward the back porch, wrapping a supportive arm around my torso, sending a shiver up my spine.

Brushing it off, I let him carry my weight as we trudged through the mud and rain. As I slumped into one of the plastic chairs, he ran back out to collect the tools, leaving me to properly inspect my foot. Pulling off a soaked sneaker, it immediately swelled, indicating its damage. Swearing under my breath, I sat back in my chair and wiped my hands over my face, pushing away the excess water that dripped from my hair.

The sound of boots stamping on concrete made me glance up at the figure approaching me, with muddy hands cradling an array of tools.

"How's the foot?" I heard him ask, a hint of worry undermining his nonchalant tone.

"Not too sure, all I really know is that it hurts. A lot." I stared up at him, studying his features. He frowned as he moved toward me, kneeling in front and examining it. Droplets of water clung to the loosened ends of his hair, parting away from the rest that was slicked back, leaving them hanging in his face.

"Looks like you might need to go to the doctor, its looks broken," he commented, breaking the short silence that was briefly filled with the sound of rain hitting the tin roof. He looked up, only for his face to come within inches of mine, his dark eyes lighting up and revealing small flecks of brown and gold. Sucking in my lip and sitting further back, I nodded silently, breaking eye contact again. Frowning, he stood and stepped away. "Make sure you get that checked," he said as he stepped back out into the rain, walking away.

I was left alone. Clutching my foot, I attempted to process the events that had just occurred. From behind me, the sound of the porch door opening and someone stepping out left me unfazed, still in disbelief.

"Wren? What are you doing out here for?"

The only sounds that could be heard was the low buzz of the television, the occasional click of knitting needles and the steady patter of rain on the tin roof. I sunk further into the couch, my foot mounted on a pillow and heavily strapped, and my eyes began to flutter shut in exhaustion. I could feel myself drifting to sleep slowly as I focused on the sounds of the rain and light thunder.

Suddenly, a loud noise jolted me from my slumber. Looking around the living room and finding the startled faces of my aunt and uncle, I slowly sat up, confused. "What was that?"

"It sounded like lightening hitting something," my aunt commented, sharing a confused expression.

"More like an explosion," my uncle muttered as he got up from his chair and rushed to the front door. A few seconds passed and he returned, panic etched in his features.

"Wren, you stay here with your Aunt. It looks like somethings happened in town." He warned as he grabbed his car keys, shooting me a sharp look. "Stay put."

At the sound of the screen door slamming, I shuffled from the couch, slowly testing the pressure on my foot. Hobbling forward, and resorting to hopping on one foot, I pulled open the front door to the sounds of thunder, rain and the whistle of sirens in the distance. My aunt stood behind me, listening. Glancing at one another, we made our way over to the kitchen window that overlooked not just the backyard, but also the faint outlines of town. A bright orange flicker that seemingly grew illuminated the various buildings in town, and the sirens grew louder.

"We need to go," I turned to my Aunt, only to see her already pulling out her keys.

"I agree," she nodded, and we both started for the garage.

The sight we were met with in town was chaotic. Flames licked the sky and flashes of red and blue blinded us. The sounds of people yelling over the sirens, the thunder growing louder and the roar of fire invaded our senses, making it difficult to understand what was happening.

The loud crash of a sign falling from the building redirected my senses into focus, and I scrambled from the car, limping as fast as possible toward the heat, the sound of my aunt calling after me getting lost amongst the pandemonium. Realisation hit me as I saw two figures staggering out of the building, the bright light of the fire silhouetting them. This was the Police Station.

Stumbling forward, I dodged various firefighters and pushed forward, reaching the two figures and throwing out an extra arm of support over Evers. My uncle shot me a glare, and then a look of understanding as together we carried the him to safety.

As we laid him on the ground, awaiting the paramedics to tend to him, he grabbed my arm. "Hunt," he wheezed, "He's still in there."

Looking up at my uncle, who was now helping the firefighters set up a second hose, I decided to take things into my own hands.

Pushing up from the ground an hopping back toward the flames, I could hear numerous people yelling after me to stop, but I ignored them.

Just as I reached the entry, another figure stumbled out, his shirt burnt and emitting smoke. I grabbed him as he fell forward, and pulled him toward the flashing lights. As we slowly moved forward, extreme heat still licking at our backs, a series disembodied voices screamed out.

"Backdraft!"

"Backdraft!"

"Get Back!"

Before I could register anything, I was immediately slammed into the concrete and pinned down.