Page 16 of Alaskan Blackout
“That’s much better.” She still spoke slowly, and there was a little crackle in her airway, but he could hear the overall improvement for himself. “We should get going.”
“Do you have a gas line you need to shut off here? Or any other prep I can take care of first?”
“No. I flipped off the main power when we left the back room, and I don’t have gas service up here.” She headed toward the door and Quinton followed. “And before you ask, I don’t care if we take your SUV, just get us there in one piece.”
Relieved they were on the same page, Quinton unlocked the rental from the fob and moments later they were on the main road, driving toward her place. He kept his speed low, mindful of potential flooding and poor visibility thanks to the downpour, but their route was empty of other vehicles save a rescue truck moving in the other direction. At the base of the hill that led to McKenna’s place, he needed to swerve around a crumpled piece of aluminum that might have been part of a roof at one time. He had just enough room for him to navigate past the bent metal.
All the while, he kept one ear tuned to McKenna’s breathing just in case her condition worsened. She still sounded raspy and she looked tense when he caught glimpses of her in his peripheral vision. Sitting straight in the leather bucket seat, she braced one hand on the center console and the other on the door’s armrest, as if she needed to be ready to bolt at any opportunity. He hated that he’d added to her anxiety, but he couldn’t dial back the urge to keep her safe. Not with memories of his mom gasping her last breath pummeling him every time McKenna’s airway made a painful rasp.
“I’m coming inside to make sure the house is safe,” Quinton warned her as he parked outside the compact blue two-story. “You should take it easy for a while.”
She hesitated for a moment before she nodded, her blue gaze fixed on the structure. “The storm is only getting worse. You shouldn’t be driving in this anyhow.”
Together, they exited the SUV to make a dash for her front steps. With no overhang for shelter, they got doused as she unlocked the door. A minute later they entered the home. It was cold and dark inside, but McKenna flipped a nearby light switch anyway.
“No power here either,” she confirmed around a small wheezing breath. For a moment, she fumbled in the drawer of a small cabinet near the door and produced two mini flashlights. She clicked one on and passed it to him before switching on her own. “Loki’s crate is in the kitchen if you want to follow me.”
Quinton absolutely wanted to go with her. He also wanted her to sit still and catch her breath while he took care of everything, but he wasn’t sure how well received that request would be. No doubt she was out of her comfort zone already between the storm and the asthma attack. She’d even said it was stress-induced, so he’d be damned if he’d add to that stress.
Torn about how to proceed, he only vaguely noticed the details of the darkened home. The living and dining areas were in the front of the house where they’d entered, both simply furnished with pale wood pieces. There were no rugs or artwork. Yet as he walked deeper into the house, passing a staircase and small bathroom to find the kitchen, there were more signs of life.
Photo after photo of fishing expeditions were hung on the walls in the hallway, most of them taken on theUn-Reel. He scanned them with the flashlight briefly, pausing only long enough to see there were a few of Clay. Quinton hoped he could return to look at them more closely once he’d helped her secure the house for the storm. But most of the images were of McKenna holding huge fish beside people he assumed were tour guests.
Before he could comment on them, he heard her exclaim in a high-pitched voice he’d never heard her use before, “You sweet, good boy! Of course I didn’t leave you in this scary storm. Would I do that to you?”
Hearing the warmth in her tone—and better yet, the lack of wheezing—made him hopeful that just seeing her pets would go a long way toward soothing the stress that brought on the asthma. He didn’t think his heartrate would return to normal anytime soon, however.
“Is he okay?” Quinton asked as he stepped into the utilitarian white kitchen, just in time to see her withdraw a black-and-brown ball of fluff from a kennel tucked between the refrigerator and a utility sink that looked to be an extension of the laundry room. “And I thought you mentioned you had more than one pet?”
He glanced around the dim kitchen for signs of another kennel while McKenna cuddled the little furball. The dog was flailing its paws excitedly, scrabbling to get closer while a gust of wind blew against the house so hard something thumped the roof. More blowing debris, maybe? The Aleutian Islands didn’t really have trees, just a handful of new plantings from efforts to reforest the land.
McKenna exchanged a worried glance with him.
“My cat, Freya,” she explained as she moved into the hallway, still carrying her pup. The skirt of her red dress swirled around her legs, her calves bare now that she’d shed her boots. “She won’t come to a stranger, but if you want to unplug the appliances and make sure all the exterior doors are bolted, I’ll go look for her.”
Quinton was already tugging cords from the outlets as her voice retreated up the stairs. He could hear the steps creak beneath her light step even as the winds howled around the house.
Finishing the tasks, he checked his phone for weather updates and noticed his connectivity had disappeared completely. He pulled open a few cabinets and drawers until he found a flashlight on the same shelf as a few candles and matches. He spotted an emergency alert radio on the refrigerator and switched it on. Thank goodness it had full battery power.
By the time McKenna returned downstairs holding a calico cat in one arm and the Havanese pup in the other, he was inspecting the flue in the living room fireplace.
“Is it safe to start a fire?” he asked as he knelt in front of the grate. “Or will it aggravate your asthma?”
Setting her pets on a cushion of the small leather sectional that faced the fireplace, McKenna nodded as she replied. “I think my asthma will be more triggered by the cold than by smoke. And the fireplace is definitely safe. I just had the flue and chimney cleaned a few weeks ago to prepare for colder weather.”
Her breathing still sounded normal enough, slow and steady if a little raspy at times. He hoped that meant she was feeling less stressed than she had at the bar earlier. He also hoped she would allow him to give her a hand while the storm raged on so that she didn’t have to overtax her lungs. What if she got into respiratory distress?
Because while he couldn’t deny he wanted to spend more time with her, what was most important was for her to be okay.
“That was good thinking.” He took a couple of small logs from a cast-iron wood stand and placed them strategically in the hearth, then repeated the procedure with three more logs, determined to help. “I brought in some supplies from the kitchen, figuring this would be as good of a spot as any to ride out the storm.”
He stuffed some kindling beneath the logs and held a match to it. In the growing flicker from the flames, he could see McKenna’s blue eyes on him.
Wary? Curious?
He couldn’t begin to detect her mood.
“I’d better get us some blankets,” she said finally, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. “Even with the fire, it’s bound to get chilly in here.”