Message in the Fire

by Dawn Merriman

  I buck against the cross, twist to get away. The ties continue to tear into my wrists, but I ignore the pain. “Help me,” I scream trying to be heard over the room full of similar screams.

  Smoke burns my eyes. Tears course down my cheeks. I pull and shake and flail, but I can’t get loose.

  Someone breaks a window, and the back draft from the new oxygen causes the flames to expand in a rush. I close my eyes and try to duck away from the sudden heat. Someone else breaks the other window. Even lost in my own terror, I’m happy to see the congregation escaping, scrambling through the windows to safety and air.

  “Help me,” I creak out against the smoke choking me. “God, please.” I pray.

  The heat of the flames presses close, the pain in my wrists stings. I pull against them anyway. I close my eyes against the smoke, against the heat, against the horror coming for my life.

  I listen to my tattoo for instructions. Open your eyes.

  I force my eyes open against the smoke. A very young girl stands before me, long reddish braids hand down her back. Her face is smudged with black streaks.

  At first, I think she is a vision, or a hallucination. Then she speaks.

  “Can you take me home?” Her sweet voice out of place in the horrible chaos surrounding us.

  “Can you cut me down?” She cocks her head calmly, questioningly. “I’ll return you to your family, I promise. But you have to cut me free first.” I explain, motioning with my head to the ties at my wrists.

  Seemingly oblivious to the flames and smoke surrounding us, the girl walks a few steps to where the knife had fallen to the ground. The knife is huge and awkward in her tiny hands, but she manages to slide the blade against the ties.

  With a snap, my arm is free.

  I take the knife from her and cut my other hand free.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I tell the girl. “Let’s go find your mom.” I take her tiny hand and pull her towards the window.

  Most of the congregation has escaped into the night by now, a few men still wait for their time to climb through. I pick the little girl up and hand her to the man closest to the window.

  He looks at me surprised then looks at the empty cross. He seems frozen in fear at my escape.

  “Take her,” I shout and shove the girl into his arms. He takes the girl and helps her out the window, then follows her to safety.

  I scan the meeting room as the last few men clamber out the windows. The cross burns, and I shiver thinking how close I came to being part of that fire. Zeke’s still form lies near the cross, flames sputtering on his chest.

  The windows behind me beckon, but I need to let the innocent members out first. I cover my face with my thin t-shirt and rush to Zeke’s side. He might have killed Nolan and tried to kill both Addlynn and me, but I can’t let him burn if there’s a chance to save him.

  The heat pushes hard against me, but I kneel next to him. One look at his face and I know he’s beyond help. The fact brings me no peace.

  Through the smoke, I see movement nearby. Addlynn’s mother leans near Jacob, pulling on his arm.

  I rush to help her. “You have to get out of here,” I shout over the crackling of burning wood.

  “I won’t leave him,” she says, her eyes wild with terror and resolve.

  I grab his other arm, and we pull him down the aisle towards the open windows. Jacob moans at our rough handling of him. The sound so sweet, he still has a chance. But only if we can get out.

  Everyone else has escaped and Jacob is too heavy for us to shove out the window by ourselves. Not knowing what else to do, I beat on the door, scream for help.

  Miraculously, the door swings open. Smoke billows into the open and it gets a little easier to breathe.

  “Over here,” I tell the mother and we drag Jacob towards the waiting door. Someone takes Jacob’s arms from us, drags him out into the open. I sink to the ground with relief and crawl towards the door.

  Freedom and safety is so close.

  “Help me,” a voice says from nearby, stopping my scramble.

  I search the building, empty except for flames and smoke.

  “Help me. I’m so scared,” the voice says.

  Then I see her. A young woman cowers in the corner, too scared to move.

  I look to the open door, then back to the woman. I can’t leave her.

  I crawl under the smoke to the woman. She’s pushed herself into the corner, hides her face against the wall. Her long braids hang against the pale fabric of her simple dress in dark ropes.

  Behind me, a rafter crashes to the ground in a billow of sparks.

  I shake her shoulders, “We have to get out. The building’s coming down.”

  She cowers closer to the wall.

  I grab a braid and pull. Her head lifts from the wall and her eyes meet mine. I recognize those dark eyes from my vision.

  “You’ve ruined everything,” she hisses. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

  I’m so surprised, I don’t see the knife in her hand. She lunges at me and the blade catches me on the arm. Her momentum carries her on top of me and we roll on the floor.

  I push at her wildly, try to knock the knife from her hand. We continue to roll through the room. She cuts me again in our struggle, the pain an inconsequential sting.

  “Get off me. We’re going to burn to death,” I scream.

  Another rafter falls and I see the sparks fly behind her. The fire means nothing to her. She’s intent on killing me.

  She stabs towards my chest. Instinctively, I roll with all my remaining strength, push her away. The knife misses its mark and flies from her hand.

  I continue to roll, carrying her with me like a wrestler towards the open door.

  Her hands find my neck and I struggle even more to breathe. My mind swims and my vision darkens. I claw at her squeezing fingers.

  Roll backwards. I hear the direction through the soup of my mind.

  I push my feet on the floor with the last of my strength and do a back roll. Dark eyed girl sails over my head as we roll. Her hands lose their grip on my throat. I land on top of her but quickly climb off.

  All I want is escape.

  The open door beckons and I belly crawl towards the air. She grabs my ankle, tries to pull me towards her. I kick her in the face and scramble in a panic.

  Hands grab my shoulders, and I fight at them, screaming and kicking. The hands hold tight and drag me out of the burning building.

  “Gabby, stop fighting, it’s Lucas.” His voice shouts in my ear.

  I sink into his arms and let him pull me to safety. “Get her,” I shout. “She tried to kill me.”

  Dustin hurries past us and I see him tackle the dark-eyed girl. In a fast, practiced movement, he cuffs her then drags her out.

  Lucas pulls me far from the building and sets me down in the cold grass. My hot skin nearly sings at the coolness. My lungs revel in the smoke-free air.

  Lucas checks me over, runs his hands down each limb looking for injuries. I flinch as he touches my upper arm.

  “Ow,” I whine.

  “You’re bleeding.” Panic in his voice.

  I grab my arm and hot blood fills my palm. I cough hard and the blood pumps out stronger.

  Lucas pulls off my shoe, slides off my sock and pushes it against the cut. “Here, hold this tight.”

  “Way to think on your feet, detective.” I giggle, lightheaded. “Feet, get it?” I giggle again. I feel drunk and shaky.

  “Nice one,” he says flatly. “Stop moving.”

  The stars overhead swirl, the pinpoints of light dancing. “Why is the sky moving?” I ask. “The stars are blurry and dancing.” My voice sounds far away, farther than the stars.

  “Dustin,” Lucas shouts. I jump at the sudden noise.

  My brother appears at my side, his face etched with worry. “Hey, brother.” My words slur. “Your wife hates me,” I say out of nowhere.

  “She’s losing blood and going into shock,” Lucas says
above me.

  “Shock, sock. You’re such a comedian,” I giggle again.

  Dustin looks at my arm, and I look too. The once-white sock is dark with blood.

  “Crap on a cracker, I’m bleeding,” I slur.

  “Someone give me their shirt,” Dustin shouts into the crowd.

  The requested shirt appears and he replaces the sock. “That hurts,” I mumble.

  The smoke must be thick, because the dancing stars fade into the darkness.

  I hear sirens in the distance. “Such pretty music,” I slur.

  “Gabby, stay with me,” Lucas begs.

  “Never leave you,” I manage to say.

  The approaching sirens sing me into oblivion.

  Chapter 25

  Gabby

  The hospital room looks identical to the one Addlynn was in. I blink, confused why I’m here. Am I visiting Addlynn again? Did Dustin finally give in?

  Grandma Dot sits nearby, her hand holding mine, her head leaning on the bed, dozing. Her hair a tall tower of curls from her show girl costume.

  I feel like I’ve gone back in time to the night I lost my parents. I awoke in a hospital room with Grandma by my side then, too.

  I touch the scar on my eyebrow. That time it had been heavily bandaged. This time I feel the familiar line of distorted skin.

  My wrists are bandaged. My arm stings when I try to move it. The stab wound aches all the way to the bone.

  Thick bandages cover my left hand.

  I claw at them, tear at them. Last time, I awoke with my abilities. “Don’t let me wake without them,” I pray silently.

  My frantic movements wake Grandma. She raises her head, surprised and relieved to see I’m awake.

  “What are you doing?” she says as I tear at the bandages.

  “They burned my hand,” I say desperately.

  “I know,” she says gently. “That’s why it’s bandaged.”

  “It’s my left hand,” I cry miserably.

  Grandma Dot makes the connection, but stops me from pulling the bandages off.

  “Let it heal,” she says, pushing my other hand away.

  “But….” Tears of frustration squeeze out of the corners of my eyes and fear rages through me. A deep sorrowful fear.

  “If you’re supposed to have them still, you will.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

  “But….”

  “Trust like you’ve always trusted. That’s all we can do.”

  Frustrated, I lean into the bed. The tears drip down my temples, and she gently brushes them away.

  “You scared us good, this time,” she says.

  The memories of the ceremony and the fire flood my mind. My body shakes with sobs, as residual fear and adrenaline leave my body. Grandma sits on the bed next to me, holds my head in her lap and lets me cry it out. She brushes her hand along my back, soothing me like a child.

  “You’re safe now,” she croons. “You’re safe. He kept you safe.”

  I feel spent and empty. I don’t want to leave the comfort of Grandma’s embrace. She seems in no hurry to let me leave her. She continues to rub my back and touch my hair the way she did when I was young. Her gentle hands center me.

  After a while, I fade back to sleep.

  The sunlight shines brightly in the hospital room when I next wake up. I look to the visitor seat, expecting to see Grandma.

  Lucas has taken her place. He leans back in the chair, his hands crossed on his belly. His face relaxed and loose, his eyes closed. Dirt clings to the knees of his uniform and a line of ash streaks down one cheek. The pinched worried expression of last night replaced with the soft face of sleep.

  He senses me watching him, and his eyes slide open.

  The pinched, worried expression returns.

  He slides the chair closer, excited.

  “Hey, sleepy-head,” he teases.

  I reach my un-bandaged hand to touch his face, needing the contact. “You have ashes on your face.” I run my thumb down his cheek, brushing the streak away. He doesn’t pull away from my touch like most people do. He leans into my palm.

  The warmth of his skin flows into me, warms my entire body.

  He places his hand on top of mine, gives into the comfort of my palm on his face.

  “I thought we lost you last night.” His voice husky and close, his eyes on mine.

  The moment stretches, infinitely sweet.

  The air crackles between us.

  “I see you’re awake.” The overly cheery voice destroys the moment and I pull my hand away. “Just going to check your vitals,” the nurse says.

  Lucas scoots his chair away, giving the nurse room to work. I recognize her bouncing, neat afro. Nurse Jada from the other day.

  She takes my arm to put the blood pressure cuff on. I snatch it away.

  “You’re my nurse?” I demand.

  Jada’s coffee cheeks grow darker. She takes a tiny step away from me. Her shoulders slumped in shame. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t remember that,” she says to the floor.

  “You kicked me out. Of course I remember,” I snap back.

  Jada keeps her eyes on the floor, fiddles with the blood pressure cuff.

  Lucas’ chair creaks as he leans closer. “Maybe Gabby should have a different nurse.”

  Jada’s head snaps up. “No, really. That’s not necessary.” She runs her hand across her soft afro. “I was wrong.” She looks directly at me.

  My shocked expression prompts her to go on. “I saw on the news about what you did last night. That you took down that horrible place. All those girls can go back to their families because of you.”

  “The news?” I look to Lucas for confirmation. “Lacey telling more crazy stories about me?” I demand.

  Jada hurries in to explain. “Not crazy stories. It was on the national news.” Her voice high and excited. “You used your,” she pauses looking for the right word. “Your talent, to figure out what was going on there. You stopped them.”

  The other day she looked at me like I was a monster. She looks at me now with wonder.

  “National news?” I ask Lucas.

  He nods and gives me a look that says we’ll talk later.

  “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I didn’t understand.” Jada seems so sincere, I can’t help but give in.

  “It’s okay, most people don’t understand.” I offer her my arm so she can take my blood pressure.

  Jada eagerly takes the reading, babbling like a fan-girl. “My daughters will be so excited when I tell them I’m your nurse. They think you’re the coolest thing. They wish they were psychic now.”

  I roll my eyes at Lucas, and let her do her job.

  “Lacey finally got her national news story,” I say once Jada leaves. “How bad did she make me look?”

  “Believe it or not, she made you look like a hero. Guess she decided the psychic who saved the day was a better angle.”

  “I really didn’t do anything except get tortured and nearly killed.” I lean back on the pillow and stare at the ceiling, uncomfortable with the attention.

  Speaking of nearly killed, how do you feel?”

  I take stock of my body. The deep pain in my upper arm has subsided some. My wrists sting. My hand doesn’t hurt much, that’s a good sign. “Pretty good, I guess. Where’s Grandma?”

  “She went home to clean up. She sat here all night with her towering show girl hair and make-up. Wish I could have seen the whole costume.” He smiles trying to lighten the mood.

  Last night comes back to me in flashes. I continue to stare at the ceiling, following the lines of the panels with my eyes as the night events re-play in my mind.

  “Did you get them all?”

  “We did,” he says simply.

  “There was a little girl with red braids. Is she okay?”

  “Everyone is okay,” he soothes. “One man, they said his name was Zeke, he didn’t make it.”

  “I know,” I say sadly. “I went back to save him, but he was
gone.”

  “According to our interviews, he’s the one who tied you up and tried to kill you.”

  “I still tried to save him.” My voice barely a whisper.

  We sit quietly. I’m thankful for the peace.

  Something niggles at my mind. “Where’s the babies?”

  “The baby boy is still here and doing great.”

  “No, the other babies.” I turn on my pillow to look at him. “Many of the girls were pregnant, but there weren’t any babies there. That doesn’t make sense.”

  The set of his shoulders clearly tells me something is wrong.

  “What is it?” He looks away. “Tell me.”

  “They sold the babies.”

  Sickness washes over me. “Sold them?”

  “We brought Mac Plamento in this morning. Once he found out about what happened, he gave himself up.”

  I blink at Lucas, not wanting to understand.

  “You don’t mean….”

  “That’s how they financed the place. They kidnapped young girls and brain-washed them. Once they were old enough, they got them pregnant. Mac Plamento was their agent on the outside. He sold the babies to desperate parents.”

  Horror fills me. “That’s sick. Those poor girls.” I close my eyes against the wave of disgust. “No wonder Addlynn wanted to escape. She didn’t want her baby stolen and sold to the highest bidder.”

  “She’s awake.” Lucas states.

  My eyes fly open. “Addlynn’s awake?” I push into a sitting position on the bed. My arm aches from the movement, but I don’t care. “When?”

  “A few hours ago. We contacted her real parents and they arrived early this morning. She woke up not long after they got to her.”

  My exhausted mind reels from the new information. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and a wave of dizziness swamps me. “I want to see her.”

  “You can’t get out of bed,” Lucas warns.

  I shake my head. “I’m going to see her. She’s still here, right?”

  “Just down the hall, actually,” he concedes. “But you need to rest. You lost a lot of blood.”

  I place my feet on the floor and stand. The dizziness clears after a moment. “I’m going to see her. You can’t stop me.”

  “No one’s ever been able to stop you,” he chuckles. “She asked for you.”