Chapter 5

Theo

The fire truck bolted down Spann Avenue. I eyed my house, shadowed and dark in the minutes after dusk, and then turned my head across the way. The house that belonged to the young girl I’d seen earlier. The beautiful woman, with her large breasts, her thin waist, her tired tragedy as the boy left her behind—it was her house, burning. Orange flames snuck from the front window and dark clouds of smoke oozed from the back. The house was tiny, with rooms kind of stacked together in a single layer, meaning it was easy to get trapped. After glancing in the front yard, at the collection of neighbors that had grown, becoming voyeurs, I realized the girl wasn’t among them.

Which meant she was probably still in the house.

I grew alert, activated. The moment the fire truck halted, I bolted from the back seat, hunting for the fire hydrant. With a dramatic tug, I brought the hose from the back of the truck and connected it, sensing the other firemen’s eyes upon me. I felt animalistic, alive, working on someone else’s time, rather than just my own. I shot my hand toward the front door, crying out, “Mason! Grab the hose! I think there’s someone in there!”

“How do you know?” Mason cried back, his face red from the heat steaming from the house.

“I live across the street. Come on!”

I raced toward the front door, leaping up the stone steps and nearly kicking the welcome sign that lay, tilted, near the scattered beer cans along the side. I wondered, in the back of my mind, if they were his or hers. How many fires had I been to that involved very drunk people? Too many. And too often, they didn’t make it out alive.

I broke through the door, scattering glass. Even in the doorway, I heard the ‘80s music, still streaming from the kitchen. After a jolt through the foyer, I stood, poised, watching as the fire licked at nearly everything in sight. The refrigerator was already a mere skeleton. The pot and skillet on the stovetop were completely incinerated. The smell of burnt food, of ash, was everywhere, and I immediately donned my mask so that I could breathe. Mason appeared beside me, holding the hose. After a brief pause, he began to blast everything, causing steam to whoosh up toward the crumbling ceiling. Immediately, the ‘80s music grew stifled and turned off, finally falling to death.

Without pausing to watch the rest of the attack, I burst through the side of the kitchen, stepping on hot coals that had once been a dining room table, and then found myself in the hallway. At the far end, a single door stood, closed, with towels peeking from beneath, as if someone had pushed them there, wanting to keep smoke out.

Feeling as if I were in a dream, I trudged toward the door, trying the handle, and then banged on it—not wanting to bust it open and hurt her. My heart raced, remaining somewhere near my throat, as I waited.

“Hey!” I cried, finally knowing I needed to make some kind of human contact. “It’s us. Hey! We’re here to help you!”

After a long, aching pause—during which I began to make peace with the fact that the smoke might have killed her already, or at least knocked her out cold—I heard her soft, intimate voice. It felt like it was coming from another world. A dream.

Not one of my nightmares.

“The handle’s too hot to touch!” she cried.

“Okay. Stand back!” I cried. “Are you back?”

“Yes!” she answered.

We were working together. She was cooperating. She wasn’t unconscious.

I’d gotten there in time.

With all the energy I could, I bolted against the door, cracking it with my shoulder. After another lurch, I managed to break open the door completely, creating a human-sized hole in the center. Blinking through the dark, horrible clouds of smoke, I saw her: quivering, naked, near the sink. On the sink, she’d written a single word: Sarah.

As if she wanted the world to remember her name.

I broke through the hole, reaching for her. Her eyes were saucer-like, unable to comprehend that I was there. That someone had found her. Her breasts, milky white and round, would fit perfectly in my hands. Wrapping my arms around her thin waist, I thrust her over my shoulder. I grabbed a towel from the floor and dipped it into the bath water. “Put this over your mouth. We’re going to walk through your house to get out. Okay?”

She did as she was told, putting her utmost trust in me. Her muscles still quivered in my arms. Stumbling into the near-black hallway, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I could still hear Mason’s water, blasting against the kitchen cabinets, the counters. We hadn’t made it there in time; the entire place would crumble to the ground. I’d seen fires like this before.

I knew how they worked. They were like animals, almost organic, like anything else.

Sometimes you just had to let them burn.

Bursting down the hallway, I could feel the wooden floor crumbling beneath me. I yelled out to Mason as I blasted through the kitchen, “We have to go! Come on! She’s the only one!”

Mason gave me a firm nod before following me out the front door. The naked girl—Sarah—bobbed against my shoulder, clinging to my clothes. We appeared in the clean, cool air of the night, in full view of all her neighbors. But as we moved through her house, her muscles grew lax, her mind gave way to unconsciousness. Shock had taken over. Perhaps it was for the best, her body telling her what she should and shouldn’t experience. In my experience, our bodies normally knew best.

I stretched her across the grass beneath the maple tree that lined the edge of her yard. A neighbor fled to his house, finding a bright blue blanket, and then gave it to me. Drawing it over her, I watched as she shifted, child-like, beneath it as if I were tucking her in for the night. After biting her lip, she whispered, “I never really loved him, anyway.”

She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Her brown curls eased over the curve of her breasts, beneath the bright blue blankets, and her shoulders were smooth. I sensed I needed to return to my other firefighters. There was still so much work to do. All eyes were upon me.

But I felt, even as I gazed upon her, that she was the most wonderful thing I could ever live for.

“It’s going to be all right, sweet girl,” I whispered to her, reaching forward and easing her bangs away from her eyes. “It’s all over, now. And you can rest.”

Mason appeared behind me, then. “Come on, New Guy. You know the work’s never over. You know that better than any of us.”

I did.

I turned away from her quiet form, instructing several neighbors to watch over her until the paramedics arrived. And then, I turned back toward the black smoke, still billowing from the tiny home.