Finding Miranda

Ch.20, pt.1: THE HUNTED

AUTHOR'S NOTE:   Miranda has just returned from an enjoyable dinner with Pietro, Shepard, and Dave.  She is preparing to spend the night alone in her partially burned house for the first time since she was attacked by an arsonist.  About twenty minutes after she gets home, the town of Minokee is shaken by a deafening explosion, with tragic results and life-changing ramifications.

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Miranda had removed her shoes and laid out her work clothing for the next morning. She was covering her charred kitchen with spare bed sheets when a blast of noise and light shook the house and knocked her to her knees.

An echoing muffled roar followed the first boom. The initial bright light subsided to a wavering red-gold glow emanating from Orchid Street.

Miranda blinked and pulled in air, but she choked and coughed on suspended dust and ash stirred by the explosion. Sputtering and gasping, she pushed herself to her feet. The flames and smoke were concentrated beyond the roof of her rear-yard neighbor. She knew—but tried desperately to deny—that Shepard Krausse's front yard was on fire.

She fumbled into the flip-flops beside the door. In a millisecond she raced through the rear hedge. The red glow blossomed higher into the air beyond the Krausse rooftop. Neighbors' doors slammed, dogs barked, people shouted as all Minokee rushed to help. Some woman was screaming hysterically; Miranda decided the voice was her own.

She careened around the side of the house and froze in shock. At the curb a massive conflagration devoured twisted, blackened pieces of Pietro's car. In the street beyond, shadows of frantic neighbors fought the fire with buckets, garden hoses, and kitchen fire extinguishers. People shouted into cell phones and at each other. What air was not sucked away by the holocaust was searing to the lungs. A wall of unbearable heat shoved would-be rescuers back from the white-hot steel skeleton of the car.

Squinting into the blinding glare, Miranda made out a silhouette no one else had yet seen: a body on the lawn, and it was on fire.

"Shepard!" she screamed. "Shepard!"

She ran and threw her body across the burning one. She rolled him in the grass, she beat out flames with her hands, ripped off her blouse and skirt and smothered the fire. His pant legs were shredded and black. Now in her underwear, Miranda wrapped her singed outer clothing around his calves and leaped to grasp his wrists and drag him toward safety. A gnarled, claw like hand covered Miranda's hand. She jumped and screamed.

"Let me help!" shouted Martha Cleary over the hideous cacophony surrounding them.

Miranda pulled one arm and Martha the other. Together they heaved the big man to and through the front door of his house. Martha slammed the door, blocking out most of the heat and light, but the two women had no trouble seeing each other's terrified faces in the fire's glare through the windows. They slumped onto the floor beside the unconscious Shepard. Martha wore pin curls, a bathrobe, and ruined pink chenille bedroom slippers. Miranda wore bra, panties, half-slip, one flip-flop, and a coating of soot marred by tear tracks down her face. She made no sound and took no notice as tiny salty drops fell from her chin.

"Gonna take the Rescue a bit ta git out here," said Martha, hauling herself to her feet. "Better get some cool water on these burns." She gestured to Shepard's lower legs encased in Miranda's erstwhile clothing. "I'll git a bowl of cool water from the kitchen."

"I'll get some towels," Miranda said with a sniff. She wiped her chin absently on the back of her hand as she rose and went to find a linen closet.