Prologue
1975
“Hello? Is anyone in here?”
Jack had to shout over the deafening roar of the cackling flames. To his right, a flaming wooden beam crashed to the ground. A stack of hay nearby caught fire. The loss of the beam destabilized the barn's infrastructure and the entire right-hand side of the structure swayed back and forth.
Looking around once more, he didn't see anyone in here. It was three in the morning. He didn't think anyone would be inside, but the cause of the fire was unknown. Kids came out here trysting from time to time, and it was a popular spot for stray cats. All he saw was the lantern on the ground—the lantern that had started the fire.
No kids, and no cats. That was the important thing.
Even through his suit, Jack could feel the heat of the flames. It was time to leave. He turned on his heel and ran, sprinting through the open double-doors just as another beam came crashing to the ground. Another thirty seconds in there and he would have been trapped.
Outside, fire trucks had lined up along the road. His team was uncoiling the hoses. Lance and Rick, the first to arrive, were standing at the ready. Jack gave them the go ahead and they let loose, firing a stream of water into the barn. They'd start by dousing the floor and putting out the flames on the ground and then work upward. If any more beams fell, the ground would already be wet, so the fire wouldn't spread.
“Did you find anyone?” Lance shouted over the roar of the fire hose.
Jack shook his head. “It's empty.” He headed over to the other fire truck and helped unwind the coil. With both trucks focusing on the fire it took about forty minutes to put it out. The barn was a total loss.
As the crew went about recoiling the hoses, Jack walked the area around the smoldering ruins with Lance. It was late summer in the town of Strawberry Shoreline, and they needed to make sure a stray ember hadn't flown free. Across the street was the library, and the last thing Jack wanted was for the library to go up in flames.
“It took too long to put out the fire,” Lance remarked. “We don't have enough funding. This is what we get for electing Nixon.”
“It could be worse,” Jack rebutted. “We could be over in Vietnam.”
Lance shook his head. “The way things are going, we might still end up over there.”
“Like hell. If they try to draft me, I'll see you in Canada. I'd hate to leave Strawberry Shoreline, but I'm not going overseas.”
Lance chuckled. “Have you heard the rumors? They're thinking about changing the name to Strawberry Shores.”
Jack laughed out loud. “Yeah. That'll never happen.”
The duo rounded the right side of what used to be the barn. “Now isn't that a shame.”
Jack followed Lance's gaze. He was referring to the enormous Northern Catalpa tree that stood nearby. Half of its noble, twisting branches had been incinerated by the blaze. It looked like the trunk had suffered damage too. Jack would be surprised if the tree survived another year.
“A damn shame. That tree's been here since before I was born. Who owns this property? Maybe we can convince him to transplant it.”
Lance shook his head. “Not likely. The roots on that thing probably go a mile deep. Besides, this lot belongs to Frederick Ferdinand.”
Jack crinkled his nose. “Little punk, if you ask me.” Frederick Ferdinand had been nothing but a nuisance for as long as Jack had known him. Ferdinand was militant when it came to people altering—or even being on—his property. It was a miracle that he hadn't come out and harassed the firemen for putting out the fire. “But, I'll talk to him anyway. In the morning. For now, I'd say the area is secure. Let's get the gear squared away and head back to the station. I'm getting hungry.”
Lance agreed. They turned away from the Northern Catalpa and started for the truck.
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