Blaze

BEFORE FIRE
The slight tinkling sound of utensils hitting plates fills the small suburban house as the family finishes their dinner. Talk about the hard day they all had mingles with the end-of-dinner chiming. The urge to leave the table to play outside while there is still sun fills the two children with restlessness. Their parents appear not to notice as they finish their salad.
“Mom!” says the youngest child. “Can we be excused?”
“Not yet, Freddy,” answers their father for her. “You will wait until your mother and I are finished.”
“Humph!”
“Besides, we never have time together,” Freddy’s mother puts in. “I am always at work and you and Jess are always out somewhere.”
“Who cares?” is Jess’s rhetorical response.
“We won’t have these opportunities forever you know. We should enjoy them while we can.”
“But I wanna go outside!” Freddy whines.
“Fine!” says the father, getting a little annoyed. “Just remember to come back inside before eight o’ clock. Got it?”
“Whatever,” says Jess leaving the table, shadowed closely by her brother.
The mother and father are left at the table alone. They are done with their salad but make no signs of moving. When the sound of the door slamming behind the children reaches their ears, the mother speaks up.
“Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” asks her husband, not noticing her irritation.
“Do what?” she repeats. “You just let them go when I am trying to have a lovely dinner with the kids!”
“We were all done. They were all done. There was no point in staying at the table.”
“I wanted to talk with Jess and Freddy. They are growing up, you know. They aren’t 5 anymore.”
“I never said they were!” the father says, getting annoyed now too. “Jess is 11 and Freddy is 8! They want to play!”
“Exactly. They won’t be here to play forever.”
The father, leaving before the argument increases, picks up his plate and the ones left by the children, and leaves the dinning room and heads for the kitchen. The mother, too ill-tempered to follow, goes to the living room.
In the living room, she can see her kids playing Tag through the window, looping in and out of the trees trying to catch each other. The setting August sun sends long shadows over the yard, a peaceful reminder of the autumn to come. When the sun sets below the trees, the room is filled with darkness. Instead of turning on the lights, the mother lights two long candles. She is apparently soothed by it’s feeling of relaxation in the room.
The father comes in, and seems ready to apologize. He sits across from her and follows her gaze into the small flames. They sit together for a while, not making any noise or movement, just looking into the fire.
“Mom?” The voice of Freddy wakes them out of their conscious sleep.
“Mom,” Freddy says again, “it’s nine. Do me and Jess have to go to bed?”
“Yes, I think you do,” she answers quietly. “We all do.”

DURING FIRE
Go away! Let me sleep. Stop your ringing. Stop your yelling. Why are you shaking me? Fire? What fire? There’s no fire. FIRE? I sit up in bed. Everyone else is up and getting dressed. Quickly. Why is there always a fire at night?
I slide down the pole and get in the truck. I am still sleepy, but duty calls. The drive is fast and long. The chief says the fire is all the way in the suburbs. I should wake up by then. Why do the sirens have to be so loud?
Wow! The fire is huge! You would think it would reach the trees. I start to get to work. My job is to make sure there is no one else in the burning building. This could get really hot. Well, here goes nothing.
I can’t see a thing! There is so much smoke! So much fire! Wait… I think I can hear something… Yes! Someone is calling. Uh-oh. The voice is upstairs. Please don’t have the stairs on fire!
I made it upstairs, but it is even smokier up here. My gas mask will give me fresh air, but not the other people. At least the fire hasn’t reached up here yet. The voice is getting louder, so I must be getting close.
I found the room where the person is! Ouch! The handle is to hot to touch! I’ll have to kick down the door.
“Hello?” I call. “Where are you? I won’t hurt you.”
I can see the kid, hiding under the bed. Poor thing, he’s so scared.
“Come on, we have to leave before the fire reaches us!”
“But I’m scared!” he whines.
“Don’t worry. Nothing will happen when I’m here.”
He hesitates. Does he trust me? Come on, it’s only a step or two. That’s it.
“Do you have any other family?” I ask.
“My mom and sister and dad. Please don’t let them get hurt!”
“I won’t. Now come. We need to get you out of here.”
“Not with out my sister!” Uh-oh.
“There’s no time! We’ll get you sister later!”
“NO!” he yells and runs before I can catch him.
“Come back!” I call after him, but it’s too late, he ran down the smoking hallway. I know that it won’t support too much longer, the fire is burning directly under it. I need to find him and his family. What did he say? His mom, dad, and sister? This is going to be hard.
I search the rest of the rooms I can find. Bathroom, empty bedroom, closet… here we go!
“Come with me!” I call to the man and woman above the noise of the sirens and roar of flames.
“Where are my children?” cries the woman.
“I haven’t found them yet. Where are their rooms?”
“I’ll find them,” says the man. “Laura, go with the fireman to safety. I’ll be fine with the kids. Go now!”
Luckily the woman is following. There is no time to waste. She hasn’t said a word. Now we are out of the house.
“Where are my children?” she cries again, more worried at the sight of her house burning.
“Mom!” A girl runs over to us. She is sooty, but free of burns.
“Thank goodness you’re alright! I was so worried!” The mother doesn’t say anything else, she is crying into her daughters shoulder.
“Where are my father and brother?” asks the girl, a little embarrassed with her mother crying.
“Your father is trying to find your brother. I am going to help him.”
I rush back into the house. It is even hotter and smokier than before. I think I can hear feet upstairs above me. I run up the stairs as fast as my legs will bring me. I find the father carrying his son, franticly trying to find the way out.
“This way!” I call. He sees me and follows. “Try not to breathe in to much. There are dangerous fumes in the air.”
We make it out of the house alive, though burned and out of breath. The family reunites, but not all is joyous. The son, trying to save his sister, got too much intake of the smoke. I fear the worst.
“He needs to see a doctor,” I tell the parents. “His lungs are full of smoke.”
“Will he be alright?” asks the girl, sounding on the brink of tears.
“I can’t say.”
The ride back to the station feels like the longest ever.
As I lay may head on my pillow, I think about how five hours ago, I didn’t want to get up. Now I cannot sleep. The sound of sirens fills my head. The lights of the ambulance leaving the scene will not erase itself from my memory. I can only hope that the boy will live.

AFTER FIRE
You have never felt this distressed in your life. Your house is gone; it has burned to the ground. So many of your possessions were lost in the fire. And not only that, but you might also loose a family member. Your youngest child, while trying to save his sister, got lost in the burning house and took in too much smoke through his lungs. He lies next to you now, in a hospital bed, unconscious. It has been a week since the fire, and still he won’t wake up. You pray for his health. The doctor is unsure about his fragile condition. Will Freddy make it?
You didn’t bring anything to do, but you don’t care, you wouldn’t be able to concentrate while your son is having trouble breathing. In your seat, you see old magazines that no one ever reads. You see a small TV across from your son’s bed. You remember how much he used to love TV. Every Saturday morning, he would run downstairs and watch his favorite cartoon, even if he already saw it one hundred times. “Won’t he be disappointed when he finds out that his new home at Grandma’s doesn’t have cable,” you think. If he makes it.
If you sit quietly enough, you can hear his breathing, hoarse and unsteady. Just like when he had the flu and had to stay home from school. You took care of him and made sure he had every thing he needed, like orange juice and his favorite comic book. “He won’t like how it was lost to the fire,” you think again. If he makes it.
On the side table next to you, you can see the hospital food, famous for its awful taste. It reminds you of when you went out for dinner your family and Freddy wouldn’t eat what he ordered. He called it… what did he say? “Sticky?” “Stinky?” That’s it. He thought it smelled weird. That was the last time he had fish for a long time. “He’ll be happy when he finds out Grandma doesn’t eat fish,” you think. If he makes it.
You are so overcome by the memories of him that you can’t help it; you cry. “Please make it,” you say quietly to yourself. “Please!”
You hear movement. You look up. You don’t believe it! Freddy looks at you with eyes that look like they would rather be asleep. He’s awake!
“Mom… please don’t cry,” he says weakly. But you still cry, you wash out all the fire, all the bad, until there is nothing left, nothing except for you, and Freddy.