“Adam, douse your lights or we’ll have chickens flying all over the place. Just bring the stretcher.” Sam spoke softly. “He’s been gone for a while.”

“I have to check him.”

“I know. But how about using flashlights?”

Adam took his bag inside and knelt by the body. “Aw, Fred, it shouldn’t have been this way.”

Ginny leaned against the wall outside, fighting to keep her knees from buckling.

“You better sit down, Ginny.” Eva Donaldson, their only paramedic and female firefighter, wrapped an arm around her former Sunday school teacher. “Let me help you. Hey, bring a stool over here, quick.”

Ginny leaned against her as if she had no choice. Even though the voice seemed to come from far away, the strong arm was right there.

“Breathe, come on, breathe with me. In deep, exhale. Good, the stool is here. I’ll move you over a bit and sit you down. You with me?”

Ginny nodded, or at least thought she did.

“Good, now put your head down between your knees.”

A gentle hand pressed against the back of her head. She could hear Spook howling, men talking in the chicken house. She breathed in and huffed out. “I think he’s been gone for some time. I hunted and hunted and I couldn’t find him. I should’a looked down here.”

“Why should you have? Ginny, listen to me. You did everything right, you did all you could. Now just let us do our jobs.”

Adam stepped out the door. “We got the call, a smoke alarm is going off at your house, Ginny. Did you leave something on the stove?”

“Ah, no. Wait, the casserole in the oven.”

“We better take the truck up there. Come on, Tim. Let the other crew take over.” He ran for the truck and started it up. Tim grabbed on the back and around the circle they went, back to the upper drive and to the house.

“How many hours has it been in the oven?”

“Since five. What time is it?”

“Ten.”

“How can it be? Please, Lord.” The darkness crept back in.

“Head back down, easy, just breathe. Let them deal with the house.”

Sam stopped beside them. “They need you in there. I’m here, Mom.” He leaned over and hugged her close.

She could hear the tears in his voice and felt them dropping on her arm. She should be comforting him. She was his mother. The remaining fireman said out the door, “No flames, all smoke. They’re opening all the windows and tossed the baking pan out the back door. He just wanted you to know, Mrs. Clarkson, Sam. No fire.”

“Thanks,” Sam answered. “Did you hear that, Mom?”

She nodded. She could hear them moving the gurney, giving orders, all speaking softly.

Sam stood, keeping one hand on her shoulder. She leaned into him. When the doors slammed, Eva came back and knelt beside her. “I’m going to take your blood pressure, don’t want you going out on me. How are you feeling right now?”