Dylan
In a way, it’s the moment I’ve been waiting for.
But my first thought isn’t This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
Instead, my first thought is Holy fucking shit, Emma’s apartment is on fire!
I know so much about Emma’s routine these days, it’s become like my routine. And when shit goes down—even though the reason I’m watching her routine is so I’ll know if shit goes down—but still, if shit goes down with her, it’s like shit’s going down with me.
It feels just as fucking scary, too. Well, scary, and fucking infuriating.
Infuriating because we had a deal. It’s the entire fucking reason I’m out in fucking Vermont.
It’s the entire fucking reason that I look like almost the polar opposite—at least fashion- and facial hair-wise—of what I used to take pride in looking like.
It’s the entire fucking reason I’ve hidden in that fortress, I’ve hidden my face behind my hair, and I’ve hidden my usual sense of fashion behind so much plaid and denim.
These motherfuckers went back on their word, making the entire past five fucking years a complete fucking waste.
But, I don’t have too much time to dwell on that now.
Those fuckers must’ve started the fire somewhere in the kitchen, sometime when I was flying over Massachusetts.
One thing that I’m grateful for is that I’ve kept my helicopter ready to go at literally a moment’s notice.
That’s sixty seconds from the time my ass is in the seat to the time I’m in the air. Yes, I’ve run drills.
Another thing I’m grateful for is the fact that I don’t keep the chopper stocked with regular aviation fuel, which goes bad and would require me to change it regularly.
I’ve taken the time to ferment and produce my own biofuel on-site, because that’s just how I fucking roll. The biofuel pulled its weight tonight, carrying me three hundred miles in less than two hours—and the entire journey barely took a quarter tank.
I didn’t notice any flames or smoke from outside the building or when I was landing on the secret helipad on the roof.
And yet the smoke is thick and dense as I trudge down the hallway to Emma’s bedroom. I hear the flames crackling through wooden doors and furniture, and the heat is starting to get unbearable.
I’m almost at Emma’s bedroom door. I know that she’s still in there—I just hope that she’s okay.
I walk through the open bedroom door. The smoke’s not as bad in the bedroom as it is in the hallway.
Not yet, at least.
I hear a loud crashing sound behind me, possibly part of a door or a piece of furniture collapsing.
Fuck. Getting her out of here safely is going to be a fucking challenge.
The smoke in the bedroom is growing thicker, but I can see the outline of Emma in the bed underneath layers of bedding.
In stressful moments, your senses are heightened, and you can sometimes notice things you would ordinarily miss.
In this room, darkening with acrid smoke, I notice Emma’s outline under the sheets, moving slightly, going up and down. She’s still breathing. I run over to the bed.
The fire’s appetite is growing, and I need to move fast. I don’t know if these motherfuckers disabled the smoke detectors in the apartment, but I finally hear an alarm going off in the distance, in the hall, along with the vague white noise of an engaged sprinkler.
Outside of Emma’s apartment, the safeguards are kicking in, but it’s up to me to save Emma.
“Emma! Get up! You’re fucking apartment’s on fire!”
Emma stays still, other than her subtle breathing. She’s not going to be moving on her own. She must have inhaled so much smoke by now that she’s nearing unconsciousness.
I try yelling once more and go into a coughing fit from the smoke.
I move in closer. The stakes are as fucking high as they possibly could be, yet right now, I feel trepidation about getting too close.
But I need to. She’s barely moving, and it seems like her breathing is getting slower and shallower. I rip off the sheets, and there she is.
I expect to see some sort of sleepwear. But fucking hell. She’s not wearing pajamas, a nightgown, or even underwear.
It’s just her bare-ass naked body resting on the bed. It’s more beautiful than I ever could have imagined, and, if you haven’t guessed, I have definitely fucking imagined.
It’s like she’s not even of this earth. A perfect angel, caught up in our imperfect world.
But right now, the hellfire those motherfuckers brought to Emma’s apartment is going to take her and me both if I don’t start moving again.
I rip off my bearskin and wrap Emma in it, giving her some protection. I pick her up and carry her away from the bed, feeling her breathe slowly, feeling what may or may not be her softly beating heart. These bastards are so willing to destroy a beautiful life for no good goddamn reason whatsoever.
I carry Emma in my arms as I head into the inferno raging outside her bedroom.
From what I can see stepping out into the hallway, it looks like there might be a clear path to the apartment door.
I walk quickly down the hallway. With a loud crackling sound, part of a bookcase collapses at the end of the hall, blocking our path.
I don’t fucking stop. I keep pressing forward, determined to get her out of here alive. When we reach the bookcase, I kick the burning hulk of wood with every bit of strength I have.
My foot sends the entire thing toppling over to the other side of the room, towards a growing throng of hungry flames.
The front door is closed. Feeling the tremendous heat behind my back, I smash open the door with another forceful kick.
The blaze is still confined to Emma’s apartment, but smoke is starting to pour into the hallway. In between the earsplitting buzzing pulses of the building fire alarm, I hear a distant, growing commotion as other tenants begin to realize that this shit is for real.
I adjust the bearskin around Emma, making sure it’s secure, and I run down the hallway towards the stairwell.
Bolting up the stairs, I go as fast as my feet will carry me as Emma continues to breathe softly.
Fortunately, we’re close to the top of the building. After just a few flights of stairs, I carry Emma right past the sign that says No Access and to the door that I ran through on my way in just minutes ago.
I kick the steel door to the roof, and it flies open for us. We’re immediately enveloped by the chilly night air. My helicopter, which I’m now suddenly very fond of, is waiting for us.
I hear the distinct sirens of fire engines in the distance, nearly a thousand feet below us on the street.
Fuck, I was just on time. If I’d been any later, possibly even just a couple minutes later, these bastards would have taken a life.
They would have destroyed something much more beautiful than they could ever comprehend.
Emma.
My Emma.
That thought’s enough to give me a few seconds of pause, but I need to keep fucking moving.
There’s room enough for just one passenger in the helicopter. Specifically, there’s room enough for Emma.
I’ve prepared for something like this⸺I just hoped it would never actually come to pass.
I load Emma carefully into the helicopter, securing the bearskin once more before boarding, and take my spot next to her.
Emma looks to be breathing more deeply now, more comfortably. She shifts gently in her seat, moving slightly onto her side.
“Emma?”
She’s still out cold, and I’m not sure why I’d want to wake her, anyway.
I strap Emma in tightly, then strap myself in. I open the throttle, starting the minute-long process. In sixty seconds, we’re lifting off the roof.
We head east at first, just to get the fuck away from this entire shitshow. I push the cyclic forward until we’re over the East River, then I push left until we’re traveling due north.
I give more power to the engine as we glide above the Major Deegan Expressway. The dense lights of the city soon fade into the relative darkness of the Hudson River Valley.
It’s still hours from daylight, and it’s just going to keep getting darker below us as we travel north towards my fortress in the wilderness.
I glance at Emma briefly. She’s breathing more easily now, and she’s sleeping soundly.
I don’t know when she’ll wake up.
I don’t know how she’ll react when she wakes up.
I’m not even sure what I’ll say or do when she wakes up.
With all of my meticulous planning, preparation, and vigilance, having to actually bring Emma to my fortress in the wilderness is not something I’ve planned for.
But it’s sure as fuck happening, whether I’m ready for it or not.