Chapter two
hundred and fifty-four:
Becky looked up,
hearing a familiar voice calling her name somewhere in the throng of people who
had narrowly escaped as the hotel combusted into flames.
She was sitting
on a curb with Jenna, and Luke.
She had been
already examined by the paramedics on site, and they had deemed her okay to go.
It was now Christy’s turn to be checked out by the medics.
Becky was
unhurt, just one minor scrape on her arm. But she was covered in soot.
She pushed the
heavy blanket that the paramedics had given her off her shoulders and stood up.
“Becky, what is
it?” Jen asked from beside her.
“Zac,” She
muttered, and before she could string together any conscious thought, her legs
were propelling her forward.
She broke into a
run and found Zac running towards her.
He stopped when
he saw her, out of complete shock.
Her clothes were
dirty and her skin and hair were streaked with soot and ash.
Becky ran to
him, and leapt into his arms, throwing her body against his. He barely caught
her.
Her arms went
around his neck and her legs went around his waist, and she sobbed heavily. “Zaccy!”
Zac could hardly
breathe. He had been so panicked when he thought she was hurt--or worse—the
feeling of panic had been overwhelming. Right in the middle of the sidewalk, he
sat down cross-legged and held her. He rocked her back and forth as she sobbed
hysterically.
She smelled so
strongly of smoke and burning wood, he could hardly breathe just holding on to
her.
He himself began
to cry.
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Isaac searched
through the crowd.
He examined
faces, articles of clothing, jewelry, hair color, everything he could think of
to try and find his wife.
He looked
everywhere. Being unable to see her scared him beyond belief.
Fear had
tightened his chest so he could barely breathe. He couldn’t even think
straight. All he could think about was her.
They hadn’t even
been married three weeks yet. He couldn’t loose his wife that early. He wasn’t
ready to give her up.
Isaac was just
about to ask a police officer, when he spotted her. She was sitting in the back
of an ambulance, with an oxygen mask on her face.
He swallowed
hard. She was alive, that was a good sign. She seemed okay, that was another
good sign. But he couldn’t tell the extent of the damage.
He pushed his
way through the crowd, until he was near his wife.
Another
paramedic held him back. Alarmed, the only words that formed in his mouth were
“She’s my wife!”
He was
immediately let through.
“Isaac!” Christy
shouted, muffled through the oxygen mask.
She was crying.
The trails of her
tears were the only clean streak of skin on her face. The rest of her was
covered in soot.
He was at her
side in an instant, but he was afraid to touch her. He grasped her hand as
tightly as he could; for his benefit not hers.
“Is she okay?”
He asked the paramedic.
“She seems okay. A little trouble breathing,
but that might be emotional.”
“The
baby.” He blurted
out. “What about the baby?”
“She’s
pregnant?”
Christy nodded
frantically, still hyperventilating into the mask.
“How
far along?”
“Six weeks.”
Isaac answered. “Almost seven.”
“It’s impossible
for me to tell from here, to be honest with you.” He scribbled a note on his
clip board. “But I’d like to take her straight to the nearest hospital. Just to be sure.”
Christy sobbed
harder, he felt close to tears himself.
“It’s going to
be okay.” He said for both of their sakes.
The doors of the
ambulance closed tightly.