Another woman gasped.
But the dog was already gone.
Inside, flames had begun crawling across the ceiling insulation where sparks from a malfunctioning refrigeration unit had ignited packaging materials stacked too close to a power line. Plastic shelving popped loudly as heat expanded the metal frames holding them in place. Thick smoke rolled low along the floor, turning the interior into a maze of shifting shadows.
Outside, a firefighter who had just arrived with the first engine grabbed a bystander who tried to rush toward the entrance.
“You can’t go in there,” the firefighter barked.
“But the dog—”
“He won’t make it,” someone muttered quietly.
Seconds stretched uncomfortably.
The only sounds were the crackle of the growing fire and the distant wail of more emergency vehicles approaching down Main Street.
Then movement flickered inside the smoke.
