by M. C. Cerny
“What the hell happened?” I yell between choking sobs.
He grabs my other hand so tightly it squeezes around my phone, pinching my fingers. “Fire on the first floor.” As we reach the foyer, we find it covered in hot flames that are dancing around our only hope of exit.
“How did this happen?” I shout.
Devin shakes his head. “No idea.”
“Oh my God, we can’t get out.” A beam from the staircase railing falls forward. I scream, and Devin pushes me back out of the way. I fall on my ass hard on the stairs, bruising my rump.
“Up. We’ll have to get to a fire escape on the next floor and jump out.”
“Are you sure? What about the staircase?” The thought of fire inching closer continues to paralyze me.
Devon gives me a look that says, resistance is futile, as he reaches for me again.
“Wait!” A whimper is my only response as he grabs me hard and drags me up. He’s the last person I want to be with right now, but I follow closely behind him, and we make our way back up through the smoke, away from the heat and flames chasing us.
Something else falls behind us and we ignore it moving forward. “This way… maybe.” He’s looking around, looking for what, I don’t know. I risk trusting him as I don’t see any of our other neighbors left inside.
“You don’t know?” I’m scared, and the only response I get is a grunt. I wonder if all his video gaming experience has given him the skills to escape a fire, and suddenly I don’t care—we’re stuck dealing with this together.
I follow Devin, and we lean against the wall, unable to see in front of us. “Why didn’t the alarm go off?” I feel like I need to say something to make sure this is really happening. My raspy voice is merely forced air coming from my dry chest.
“Shitty landlord? Dead batteries? I don’t know.” Devin’s response is gruff, and he continues pulling me along the wall. We get to a dead end in the hallway. “Stay here,” he tells me as if I was planning to run off. I’d roll my eyes, but the smoke forces me to squeeze them shut as dizziness overcomes me and I'm doubled over with a racking cough.
Devin bangs against a neighbor’s door several times before busting it open. Deliriously, I wonder if all those hours playing videos games and whacking off has given him superhuman strength.
“Come on, Casey.”
I’m barely able to follow him inside the empty apartment and to the window. “Fuck,” is all I hear Devin say before he grabs a lamp off a table and smashes it against the window. Oxygen flows through, pushing us back with cleaner air. Gasping for relief and air that doesn’t feel like cut glass when inhaled, I push forward to the fresh air.
I scramble for the hole in the window, trying to escape. “We need to get out!” Tears and emotions blind my better judgement.
“Careful, it’s not—”
Before he finishes, I learn my lesson as the glass slices deeply into my hand. “Damn!”
Devin pulls me back and grabs a blanket off the ratty couch. I don’t even know whose apartment we’re in, and I don’t care. I feel a stinging on my back, cuts and bruises everywhere. My hand is a mess, and that swimming feeling overcomes me for a second.
“Dev… I don’t think I can—” Swirling darkness starts to suck me down when he grabs me roughly.
“We need to get out. Shake it off, soldier.” Devin shakes me, treating me like some video game character. His voice is stern and commanding. He’s in the zone and somehow manages to get the window open after breaking it and pulling up the jammed sash, swiping the broken glass out of the way.
I peer over the ledge once he’s outside on the landing. A rusty ladder hangs down, leaving us with about ten feet to drop. He uses everything he’s got to haul me out the window, and I’m thankful I fit without too many more slices to my skin. “I don’t think I can.”
“You have you to jump down there.” He points to the ground and frowns, his face covered in soot and the whites of his eyes the only visible glow. “Who the hell am I going to torment if you don’t?”
My hand still clutches my phone, and he takes it from me and tosses it down. James had put the phone in one of those gorilla cases to protect it, we were about to learn if the added cost was worth it. It bounces off the concrete with a loud snapping sound, and I pray my new phone isn’t broken. I hope that’s not what he has in mind for our escape. I may not be a phone, but I could still break a leg jumping that far down. Devin smiles, and he’s no longer that creepy asshole; he’s just a guy helping me escape from a burning building. I wonder how much we’ve misunderstood each other all this time.
Sirens from firetrucks and police cars belt out their lonely wail. Bright lights blind us, and men in yellow suits and reflective gear retrieve us from the fire escape. I finally notice other building occupants huddled on the sidewalk crowded in the street looking at us. Rough hands pull me from Devin’s grasp and assist me before they help him down, as well. Looking up at the building that used to be my home, I’m scared. The paramedics help me to a stretcher, asking questions I can’t answer. I feel sick, and nothing comes up except a series of dry heaves. My throat feels like it will never stop hurting.
Arms in a blue uniform cover me with a blanket as I shiver in the muggy morning air. Devin, my rescuer, has disappeared, but my phone materializes from somewhere, and I use my code to access my recent calls. James’ number is right there, and I press the send button with shaky fingers, praying he’ll pick it up.
28
James
My phone rings, waking me from a deep sleep filled with dreams of a certain lovely woman and her captivating curves. A glance at the clock tells me it’s 5:10 a.m. Looking at the number, I see it’s Casey. Smiling, I pick up the call. “Babe, I didn’t know you missed me so much.”
“James…” Her hoarse voice tells me this isn’t a sexting call, and I get up, tossing blankets to the floor.
“Where are you? What happened?” Immediately, I’m in my closet, pushing things out of the way, tripping on the pile of shit I meant to return to Casey’s unwanted drawers. I grab pants and whatever will pass for a shirt.
“T-there was a fire, and I’m in an ambulance on the way to the hospital.” Her voice breaks on a racking cough, and my gut clenches in a cramp. She said there was a fire, but she’s in an ambulance… relax, Rambo. She’s alive, she’s talking.
“What hospital?”
“St. Joseph’s.” She’s wheezing now, and I hear the paramedic in the background telling her to hang up the phone.
“Honey, give the medic the phone.” I don’t want her unattended or getting less-than-adequate care.
“James?”
“Casey, just give him the fucking phone. Please. I’m coming to get you.”
I talk to the medic, who tells me he’s put an oxygen mask over her face. She’ll need to be treated for smoke inhalation, burns, cuts, and other injuries. I would’ve never left her in her apartment if I’d known this could happen.
I tell them to take her to Thomas Jefferson Hospital instead. They have a burn unit, and I’ve donated a shit ton to their children’s affiliate, so I’m on a first-name basis with the hospital board. I’ll buy a fucking new wing if that’s what it takes. He assures me they can be there soon, and I can’t get my shoes on quickly enough.
I don’t speak to her again, but I click the app on my phone that Eli had me download. Since Casey’s phone is now on my plan, I can track her location. The phone pulls up a map of Philadelphia on my screen, and I watch the icon turn around and head south toward Thomas Jefferson Hospital. I realize how much of a creep move tracking her phone is and resolve myself to yet another discussion for us to have, but there will be no relief until I see her beautiful face safe and in one piece.
I throw the car into park and hurry for the emergency room entrance, bypassing rushing orderlies and patients. Nurses call out to me, but I ignore them. Reaching the first bay, I peek in, but the groans tell me the eighty-year-old man is not my Casey.
“Dude, over here.” A voice that grates on my nerves calls me over. It’s Casey’s weird neighbor, Devin. He pulls the curtain back so I can step inside.
“Casey!” I push him out of my way and stand next to her bedside. An IV tube pinches her skin, and a mask covers her face. She reaches up with a bandaged hand to pull it off her pale, dirty cheeks.
“She’s gotta keep that on ’til the doctor comes back to read her oxygen levels.” I glare at Devin, who I realize is also covered in soot and dirt. A tug on my arm pulls my attention back to Casey.
“James, I’m okay. Be nice.” Her voice is a breathless wheeze. I kiss her lips quickly before replacing the oxygen mask.
“You need this more right now.” Her eyes challenge my intrusive hands as they hold the mask over her nose and mouth. I look at Devin, who’s just as beat up, and blame him, my fury barely contained. “What the fuck happened this morning?” He’s holding his own portable oxygen mask and has a few scrapes on his arms, a burn on his leg, but doesn’t look nearly as rough as Casey.
“I fell asleep playing Halo on my couch and woke up to smoke. I found her trying to go down the stairs where the fire looked the worst. I pulled her back up, and we busted the door to a neighbor’s apartment and got out on the fire escape about the same time the fire trucks arrived.”
“And not a single alarm went off?” I looked between the two of them and both shake their heads. I had a good mind to call the housing department and sue the shit out of her landlord. Someone was going to hear about this.
“We were so lucky.” The words from Casey’s lips sound garbled and broken under the mask.
“Yes, you both were.” Something in my gut tells me this wasn’t an accident. “Shit. I need to make a call; I’ll be right back.” Gritting my teeth I point at Devin. ‘Watch her with your life.” Devin nods and takes up a seat next to her gurney while I walk down the hall to cool my jets.
Pacing back and forth, I take my phone from my pocket and call Eli Bennett, the security expert. “Bennett, this is James Austin. I need help.”
A curt voice greets me. “What happened now?”
“A fire in Casey’s building this morning. She’s all right but banged up. I don’t think it was an accident.”
“Shit, I’m in DC right now, but can get up there in a few hours. Get a copy of the preliminary police and fire reports if you can. ”
“Thanks.” I sure hope this guy can find out what the hell is going on. I trust him with the other half of my heart.
I walk back to Casey’s makeshift room as the doctor is joining us. Devin nods that he’s out as soon as they discharge him and going back to the building to see what’s left of things. I give him my card with a number to call if he needs anything. I offer to make arrangements for a hotel he can stay at, but he declines, saying this is probably a good time to visit friends in the city, or maybe his brother and parents in Georgia. I still think he’s a giant douche, but he saved Casey, and I can’t forget that. I hate feeling like I owe him and I hate feeling like maybe I was wrong about him even more.
“How is she?” The doctor flips through her chart, making several notes. The time he’s taking to answer my question agitates me.
“And you would be who?” Pompous ass white coat looks over his set of black-rimmed spectacles, and I want to punch him out.
“I’m the boyfriend.”
Casey whines from behind the mask, and I grit my teeth and give her my best smile to reassure her. “I also donate heavily to the children’s hospital. I sit in on the occasional board meeting.” Crossing my arms and leaning in, I glare at him, but this guy’s not budging.
Casey rolls her eyes like she’s miffed at me. I didn’t even do anything this time. Dr. Attitude nods and continues scribbling before speaking again. I hope he got that all written down.
“We’re going to treat her for the smoke inhalation. I want to run a few tests. We will likely prescribe an antibiotic in a bronchodilator. The airways are swollen and a bit constricted, so the antibiotic and steroid combined will help bring the swelling down and open up the affected airway.”
Hearing this does not make me feel better, she could have died in that fire. “And the other injuries?”
The doctor takes her bandaged hand and unwraps a portion of it, letting an ice pack slip out. The palm is an angry red, blistered in places and cut in others.
“It’s mostly a first-degree burn from grabbing a hot doorknob. More of a scalding really, but just to be sure—because she’s cut her hand on window glass in places with open blisters—I’ll have the nurse give her a tetanus booster and some pain killers. Light gauze wraps, separating the digits, and at times, elevate the arm above her heart with an ice pack. The orthopedic surgeon will be down to check on it as well before she’s discharged. The cuts here aren’t deep enough to bother with stitches once the glass was removed.”
For the most part, I’m relieved, but not feeling any better. “So she can go home?” With me, to my place, where I can keep an eye on her and maybe never let her out of my sight. Yeah, cue the creepy boyfriend.
“If the surgeon comes before the shift change, we can likely get her discharged later today. Miss Cole will need to follow up with an ENT, though, especially if she’s having difficulty with her voice. I’ll leave a referral in her chart.”
Once he leaves, I finally let out the breath that’s been constricting my chest for the last thirty minutes.
Casey uses her good hand to pull down her mask and for a moment, I’m worried she won’t put it back on. “You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?” Frowning, her voice rattles and sounds nothing near the tone or husky quality I’ve grown accustomed to. Its froggy sounding and loopy from pain medication. I’ll make sure she sees that ENT as soon as possible.
“But you still like me.” Rolling her eyes, she puts the mask back on and leans back against her throne of pillows. Sooty dusty lifts up like dark glitter against the stark hospital lights and I’m man enough to admit I was scared of almost losing her.
29
Casey
Nervously, I trace the seam of the oversized sweatpants they let me wear home when James begins to speak.
“This isn’t exactly how I anticipated getting you to stay with me. You know you could have just asked me.”
Snorting, even quietly, hurts my throat, and James reaches over to squeeze my good hand reassuringly. The drive from the hospital is thankfully uneventful, and I’m coming off my adrenaline high and feeling sleepy again with the painkillers kicking in. James strong-armed the hospital staff; most of my medications have come from the hospital pharmacy so he wouldn’t have to run out later and leave me alone. I thought I heard him offer up a new hospital wing, but I’m sure I totally heard that part wrong.
“My options were a bit limited. I’m kind of homeless and out of a job at the moment.” Yawning hurts but so does most of my body right now. A scratchy throat reminds me of why I need to not talk. In a few days, I have another doctor appointment with an ear, nose, and throat specialist. The doctor warned that my throat could have some residual damage from the smoke inhalation, and I pray that’s not the case. My voice has been my career—although a seemingly short one so far.
“You can sass me later… once you’ve rested. Come on.” James helps me out of the car. We ride up in the elevator dozens of floors to his penthouse apartment. I’ve never been here before, and this isn’t the way our date for later today was supposed to go. I’m a bit nervous to see how the other half lives. I mean, I know… I did walk Charlie and other dogs from people in this neighborhood, just not anyone from James’ building, specifically.
“So this is your place, huh?”
James smiles and uses a credit card key pass to buzz us into his apartment.
“I’ll have a key card made for you tomorrow.” He holds the door open, encouraging me inside, and it’s every bit as spectacular as I imagined it would be. I should have expected that. High-end finishes on every s
urface and that minimalist bachelor billionaire feel to it.
“James?” I don’t know what I want to say, but I feel like there’s so much we haven’t said but need to. He looks at me, and I know that he’s not going to discuss the obvious apprehensions I have about being in his place right now.
“Shh… just take a seat and relax. You’re supposed to be resting your voice, though I’m starting to realize this will be hard for you.”
“But I’m filthy.” Looking down at my borrowed, dirty clothes, I’m embarrassed. James ignores me. He helps me get settled on a couch much nicer than mine in a navy blue fabric that seems to shine yet feels butter soft at the same time. No lumps, bumps, or spring coils here, and I’m relieved.
“I’m going to get a bath started for you; don’t go anywhere.” He kisses my forehead and rubs away a smudge of dirt in my worry line before he disappears down a long hallway. As if I was going anywhere… pfft. Closing my eyes, I lean my head back on the couch and replay the chaos of the morning.
Nothing out of the ordinary comes to mind except the fire occurring in the first place. Was it even an accident? A shiver courses through my body, and the thought depresses me. Who would go out of their way to cause a fire? Something so destructive and so… final?
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, let’s get you cleaned up.” James returns, and with his help, I sit up and move toward the bathroom on sluggish feet.
“Wrong fairytale,” I croak.
Giving me a look I can’t describe, he goes about preparing things in the bathroom. “Perhaps right now it is. You’ll feel better once you’re cleaned up.” Murmuring, he leans down to remove my shoes and borrowed socks.
“What’s all this?” My voice fails me on the last word.
“Shh… My frog princess, this is me taking care of you.” James certainly isn’t taking a break from teasing me, and he undresses me slowly as I look around the room. In the dimmed lighting that reflects off the mirrors, there’s a large corner tub. Shelves of golden-hued stones built into the tiled walls hold lit candles; their comforting scent fills the room as the flames dance back and forth. The flicker is hypnotic as I stare at them.