by Marion Dess
“Don’t you have something you love?” she asked. She said this like she wouldn’t rather be with Reagan and Elizabeth, like she wouldn’t rather get to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with her mother and brothers, regardless of how crazy they made her. She loved being a nurse, and was excited to work again if she got the job, but she would give anything to get to watch her daughter grow up.
Chapter 2
Winnie rolled off Reagan and pulled the blanket over him, then cuddled up beside him.
She wrapped her arms tight around him and blinked away tears, listening to his breathing shallow as he fell asleep. She had to remind herself she’d been beside him the night before, that she’d laid in this bed just 48 hours ago, that none of this had changed at all except the front door and the now-broken hearts of the people she loved. She bit her bottom lip, taking in this peaceful moment with her husband. He had never been this drunk, but she understood. When her father had died, she felt similar to this. He had died so young, only 47. He barely lived long enough to meet Elizabeth. Days after, he had a heart attack and didn’t survive it. Winnie remembered the pain, and imagined how her mother must have felt. She remembered her mother holding Elizabeth in the days after, how her mother would study Elizabeth so intensely, taking in every second. Winnie knew Reagan must’ve felt the same way after losing – or at least he thought losing – the love of his life. She pressed her face into his chest and closed her eyes.
Time passed slowly until she fell asleep, but she felt as if she were only asleep for five minutes before she was woken by heat. She opened her eyes wide and saw a glowing outside of the door. Orange illuminated through the closed door, and Winnie jumped up. “Oh my god,” she said, but didn’t know what to do. She felt frozen as she starred at the orange, and went to open the door. She pulled her hand back quickly, the door knob burning through the top layer of skin on her hand. “Ouch. What the fuck.” She pulled the door open without caring about the pain this time, and looked out into the hallway. The ceiling was being hugged by flames throughout the entire hallway, beginning in the living room. Her fern had caught fire, she could see, and it had spread quickly to the curtains and walls. She looked at the ground, covered in liquid, tall flames rising from the ground in the middle of the hallway. This looked intentional. Somebody was trying to kill her family. She flashed back to Shorty quickly, and what he had said about people killing family members and taking Immortals, and then she turned. “Reagan! Reagan, wake up!” She coughed, as smoke shrouded the air around her.
Reagan moaned as he opened his eyes. “What’s happening?” He sat up and looked out the door. “Oh my god. Elizabeth.” He threw the blanket off of him quickly and headed toward the door.
“I’ll get her. You go,” Winnie said. Her hand throbbed. She looked down at it, new skin building itself in place of the skin that had been burned off. She narrowed her eyes.
“What are you doing? We have to go.” Reagan was staring at her, eyebrows furrowed.
Winnie nodded. She went out first, the flames moving toward her as she hugged the wall. “Reagan, please go. Go out the window, and go to Elizabeth’s window. I can do this. I want to make sure she’s okay, and that you’re okay. I will be fine.”
Reagan hadn’t moved into the hallway yet. He saw the flames and how close they were to her. “I can’t leave you,” he said. He reached forward and grabbed her face in his hands. “I can’t.”
She stood on her tip toes and kissed him. “Go out the window. I’m going to get Elizabeth.
Meet me there.”
He kissed her. “Okay. Be careful.”
Winnie nodded. She watched him as he slipped out the window, already on his cell phone, probably calling 911. She ran down the hallway, flames brushing against her skin. Her skin was charred on her left arm, but she ignored it the best she could. Elizabeth needed her. She wiped away tears caused by the pain of the burns. But maybe the tears were caused by something else, she realized as she thought about what was happening to her family, to her home. She could hear Elizabeth crying from outside the door, and she swung open the door. Her room wasn’t on fire yet. She rushed to Elizabeth and grabbed her. “It’s okay, baby, it’s going to be okay. I promise,” she said. “I’m so sorry all of this happened. This is all my fault. I won’t put you in anymore danger.” She hugged Elizabeth to her, and grabbed the blanket that Janelle had given Elizabeth that night and one that Winnie had made when she was pregnant with her. “I want you to always have this, to remember me. Don’t let your father lose it, alright?” She kissed her forehead and blinked back more tears. She refused to cry when her daughter was around. She had to be strong. “You protect your daddy, alright? He won’t know what to do without me, but I know he’ll be okay if he’s got you. Don’t you ever leave him. Even when you grow up, and have your own babies.” Winnie let a tear fall. She knew she couldn’t be there to see it. She needed her family to live long lives, and she could see from what happened tonight that somebody wanted her family dead because she went back to them. This wouldn’t have happened if she wasn’t here.
Reagan was banging on the window. She looked up at him, and then back at Elizabeth. She kissed her. “I love you so much, Elizabeth. I love you so much and I promise that I am only doing this for your own good.” She walked quickly to the window and opened it, handing a squalling Elizabeth to Reagan.
He put her down on the grass beside him, and went to help Winnie out of the window. Winnie leaned over out of the window and kissed him. “I love you,” she whispered, and moved back. She felt the flames begin to envelope Elizabeth’s room. She closed the window and stepped into the flames. She needed to understand what she was, she needed her family to be safe. This was how she believed she could do that. She watched as Reagan banged on the window. “Go,” she mouthed to him, standing in the doorway to Elizabeth’s room. The flames were surrounding her now. She could barely breathe. She watched as the building began to collapse around her, until she couldn’t see the window anymore. She heard sirens outside, and saw Reagan being pulled away by men in turnout coats. He would tell them that his wife was in that burning building, and they wouldn’t believe him because they would know that his wife was dead. They would see him as a mourning man, crazy from heart-break. She turned and watched the rest of her house collapse in front of her. Her skin felt as if it was melting against her bones, but when she touched it, it was still there. Her feet carried her toward the back of the house, to the back door, through the flames. By now, her skin felt numb to the pain, like she was merely touching a hot pan instead of literal flames that would kill another person. She was outside and into the cold when she saw the spray of a hose shooting over and into her house. She ran her fingers over the burns on her arms, now just pieces of missing skin without any blood. She had seen many burns in her life, but as she looked at hers, she knew that no burn she’d seen had been like this. The top few layers of her skin were gone in multiple places, singed away by the flames, but new skin had formed around the edges of each burn, clotting the blood immediately.
She listened, until she heard voices coming along the edges of the fence. She ran and climbed over the fence, into Mr. and Mrs. Jankens’ backyard with the big pool and lemon tree.
They would still be asleep, because they were retired and slept til noon every day, when they’d come out and jump in their pool for one lap to keep them energized and healthy. She sunk against the fence and buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and as she sat there longer, the pain of her burns and her quickly healing skin came to the surface.
She winced, leaning her head against the fence and looking at the light blue and orange of the dawn sky.
She heard people on the other side of the fence, and shrunk smaller, as if they knew she were sitting there and could see her.
“Poor man. Must be going mad with the death of his wife.”
“Keating is a strong man. It just happened; he’ll be fine. I can onl
y imagine what he’s going through. Wouldn’t wish it on anybody, though.”
Winnie furrowed her eyebrows. They thought Reagan was crazy. But what else could they think? The fire was out, there was no body, and everybody believed Winnie to be dead.
Winnie stood and climbed over the fence back to her street, crossing it quickly. She hid behind the boxcar quickly, shrinking behind it to not be seen. She saw Shorty’s car turn onto the street as she watched Reagan, and Winnie knew she was in trouble. She wiped the tears on her cheeks, but couldn’t walk away. Not yet. Shorty parked on the edge of the blocked off area, and showed his badge. He rushed to Reagan’s side, and put his hand on his shoulder. Reagan stood and handed Elizabeth to Shorty. She wished she could hear what they were saying, but when Shorty started looking around the area, she knew Reagan had told him that she had been there. Shorty knew she had visited. Shorty started shaking his head, probably trying to convince him it was a dream, that this was just some freak accident.
Winnie watched them hug, Reagan’s face now dirtied by soot and tears. She turned and walked down the field to the main street. She crossed the street, no cars around because it was dawn and nobody was awake yet. The land around her looked different than she remembered it. She’d never been out at this time of the day, when the sun was just coming up from behind the trees. The trees on the horizon allowed for sun just to come between the trees at first, creating little tangled shadows on the ground in front of her. The flowers on the side of the road were dead at this point in the year, slumped over and weed-like. But today, they seemed peaceful and kind, keeping her company on her way back to where she was supposed to be. Winnie didn’t completely hate the weeds. She never had.
She searched for the keycard in her jacket pocket with her un-burned hand, and once she arrived at the hotel a half hour later, Shorty’s car was there. She was out of breath from her jog to the hotel. She slid the keycard into the slot, waiting for the backlash of her decision. Shorty was waiting for her.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Winnie shut the door hard behind her, looking at her friend with tears in her eyes. “I thought – I didn’t think you were telling the truth.”
“You could’ve gotten them killed, Winnie! How could you be so reckless?” He was shouting, and Winnie cowered back.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She knelt down and hugged her knees, sobbing. “I’ve ruined everything for them.”
Shorty knelt beside her and flattened the hair on her head softly. “Shh,” he said. “Will you listen to me from now on?”
She looked up at him and nodded. “I love them so much. I can’t imagine my life without them, Shorty.”
“You have to think about them here, Winnie. You can’t think about yourself in this decision. You thought about yourself last night, and now Elizabeth and Reagan are homeless.”
Winnie sobbed harder.
“Shh, I’m going to take care of them. They are going to come live with me for now, alright?”
“Where do I go from here?”
“Elaine’s going to meet you on a train. She’ll find you. She has her ways.”
Winnie pursed her lips. “You mean you don’t know…what she’s doing? How do you just…trust her?”
Shorty shook his head. “She doesn’t tell me. She’s not allowed. I’m not even supposed to know. She keeps things on the down-low around me. But she’ll tell you. I’ll tell her she has to.”
She nodded, and stood, wiping her face on her jacket sleeve.
Shorty pulled her into a hug. “It’s going to be okay.” He gathered her things and held her around her shoulder as he led her to his car.
The ride was quiet on the way to the train station. Winnie watched her town for the last time, the car-less roads. Her favorite diner, Shelly’s, was full. It was Saturday and Nancy would be serving coffee at the counter to Mr. and Mrs. Dubois. She’d miss their smiles, their, “Good morning, Winnie.” Mr. Dubois with a colorful Hawaiian t-shirt, and Mrs. Dubois a large brimmed sunhat because she loved to work in the garden. Next, they passed their tiny grocery market. She’d miss shopping with Elizabeth, everybody greeting her baby happily. She’d miss the giggles from Elizabeth when her neighbors would play peek-a-boo with her from the other end of the aisle.
Shorty stopped the car in front of the station. “So,” he said, pursing his lips so his dimples made large indents in his cheeks.
“So,” she replied, sighing. She looked at the empty walkway to the train station. The brick building stood beside the car like a stranger, looming, watching. “I’m not ready.”
“You are going to be okay,” he said, placing his hand on hers. “I’m just a phone call away. I will keep them safe.”
Winnie pushed her lips together, and looked at him. “Do you swear on your life that you will keep my family safe?”
He nodded. “Cross my heart. Hope to die.”
“You will teach my daughter everything I was supposed to teach her. You will help Reagan raise her. To be strong, and to be kind, and to be courageous.” Winnie had shifted in her chair, turned to him, and was staring at him very seriously. “And you will protect her from any man who tries to hurt her, alongside Reagan. You will be her second parent, because every child should have two parents. And you will keep Reagan sober and safe. He was drunk last night, when I saw him. He passed out, and probably thinks I’m just a dream. Doesn’t he?”
“He’s convinced you were there. But I convinced him otherwise.”
Winnie looked down in her lap, and blinked back tears. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Your train’s any minute. You better get going,” he said, handing her a ticket for New York City and the duffel bag. “There’s a couple grand in cash in there, but Elaine will set you up somewhere safe.”
“How do I get in touch with her?” Winnie hesitated, looking at the things in his hand.
“She’ll find you.” He said this so casually that it chilled Winnie, but she didn’t say anything.
She took a deep breath and grabbed the bag and ticket. “I guess I’ll go,” she whispered. She opened the door and stepped out, walking to the train station. She stopped at the doorway and turned toward him. He gave her a smile, nodding to her, encouraging her. She nodded back, and waved slightly. She took one last look at the horizon surrounding her little city, knowing she’d probably never see it again. Especially not the way she saw it now. She placed her hand on her chest, the raised scar there that would never go away, and watched Shorty’s car drive off. Her feet carried her reluctantly into the train station.
Note
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The End
A story by Marion Dess.
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