Solemn Oath. Hannah Alexander

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      Off-duty fireman Buck Oppenheimer stepped through the front entrance of his favorite convenience store, the Pride of Knolls. He unfolded a ten-dollar bill to pay for his gasoline, looking around for Roxie, the regular weekday clerk. The place was deserted.

      “Hey, Rox!” His voice carried over the tops of tightly packed shelves toward the back of the store. “Put your cigarette out and get back to work. Break’s over!”

      He grinned to himself, waiting for her usual sharp comeback. He and Roxie had an ongoing rivalry about who could give the best insult. Roxie usually won, because Buck had been raised to treat all women like ladies. And Roxie was no lady.

      There was no reply, but sure enough, he did smell smoke. He always smelled smoke in here. All the old farmers ignored the signs plastered by management on the windows and the front of the counter, and Roxie was the worst offender of the bunch. She always stated proudly that she’d been smoking two packs a day for fifty years, and management could fire her if they wanted. She’d been here for the past ten years. Truth was, management was scared of her.

      But sixty-year-old Roxie didn’t come plunging through the squeaky swinging doors from the back the way she always did. Buck listened for the sound of a toilet flushing or of Roxie shuffling boxes around in the back. Could be she hadn’t heard him come in.

      “Roxie?” He sniffed again and noticed that the smoke was stronger.

      And different…sharper.

      “Roxie!”

      A faint popping, rushing, cracking sound reached him, then a heavy thump…and a muffled cry that sounded like a tomcat meowing.

      A wisp of smoke slithered into the shopping area between the twin stockroom doors.

      “Help!” came the tomcat’s voice again. It was Roxie.

      Buck ran out the door and the few feet back to his truck. He radioed for backup, then grabbed his fire-resistant jacket and his ax and raced back in through the swinging doors into the storage area. Bright tongues of flame raced along a stack of cardboard boxes that surrounded a smoking barbecue grill in the far corner.

      “Roxie, where are you?” he shouted, covering the lower part of his face with his arm to protect his lungs from the heat and smoke.

      “Help me! I’m in here with the fire extinguisher!” The thumps came from his right, on the other side of a solid wooden door that led to a smaller storage room. “This door’s stuck again, and it’s getting smoky in here! Hurry!”

      “Stand back, Rox, I’m going to force it open.”

      “Who’s out there?” she demanded. “Buck, that you?”

      “Yes, stand back!”

      He knew there wasn’t a whole lot of room in there to move around, much less stand back. He rammed his shoulder against the door and bounced hard against it. “Is it unlocked?”

      “Of course!”

      He shoved again, this time putting his full muscle-builder’s weight against it, but he bounced from the wood once more as a slice of pain streaked down his right arm. He coughed at the thickening smoke.

      The fire quickened with sudden life. Snapping heat puckered his flesh, and the smoke twisted and bunched around him as if it were alive. He struggled not to breathe too much of the dark thickness. He stood back from the door, raised his ax and slammed the blade into the wood above the knob. Roxie squealed. When he plunged forward with his shoulder this time, the door splintered and gave way with him and he tumbled in.

      “Hurry!” Roxie shouted. “There’s a barbecue grill that could—”

      A loud sound like the boom of a cannon reached them, and the wall beside them imploded. Sudden, sharp pain pierced Buck’s chest just before he grabbed Roxie, threw her beneath him, and fell over her. A shelf of paper towels toppled onto them as another blast hit.

      Through the blackness and heat and smothering smoke, he heard the welcome sound of a siren. His friends would come through.