Transition

by Henry Charles Mishkoff

  G.W. sighs. If the way it’s starting out is any indication, this is going to be one hell of a long day.

  4.3.13: Sturdivant

  After several false starts, Jillian finally manages to tear herself away from the security of her perch on the balcony. She tiptoes down the stairs, determined to take a quick peek through the curtains to try to figure out what’s going on outside. But just as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, a blood-curdling scream stops her in her tracks. And then, just as she’s about to inch forward toward the door, there’s another scream. And then another. And then…

  And then it appears to Jillian that the window simply explodes. Shards of glass fly everywhere. A large black stone becomes briefly entangled with the curtains, thuds to the floor, and rolls a few times before shuddering to a stop. Oh, Jesus, Jillian thinks, if that had happened just a few seconds later, I might have been standing right there, looking through the curtains, when that rock flew in. It might have killed me. Or the glass – holy shit, what would that have done to my face? And what about…

  But now there’s something else spinning through the jagged hole in the window, the curtains are still billowing from the force of the rock, they’re parted just enough to allow the… the what? Is it a bottle? But it’s on fire, and that’s some kind of fuse… oh, Jesus, it’s a bomb, and it’s going to land on the floor right here in front of me…

  She throws up her hands in an instinctive effort to shield her face from the force of the blast. But when the bottle crashes to the floor, just a few feet from where she stands frozen at the bottom of the stairs, it makes a strangely inappropriate popping noise, like a dropped Christmas-tree ornament, and it simply falls apart with a whoosh.

  Without even thinking about it, Jillian retreats, backing one step up the curving stairway. Oh my God, she thinks, first a rock, now this. What’s next? Her knees feel so weak that she’s afraid that they’re going to buckle. She grabs the handrail for support.

  As the jar disintegrates, it releases a flow of a thick liquid that smells ominously like gasoline. As Jillian watches in horror, the burning fuel spreads quickly out over a large swath of the floor. One slim tongue of flame snakes toward the stairs where Jillian stands, forcing her to back up one more step…

  What am I doing? she thinks, fighting a rising tide of panic. I can’t keep backing up the stairs. I have to get out of the house while I still can.

  The small room is quickly filling up with black, foul-smelling smoke. The flames have not yet spread to the entire room, and Jillian can still see patches of floorboards amid the growing lakes of fire. The area where she stands remains relatively clear, and a draft seems to be carrying most of the smoke toward the open window. If she bolts for the door, if she does it right now, right this second, she should be able to leap clean over the tongue of flame that chased her up the stairs, she could be out on the porch in just a few seconds…

  And that’s just what she decides to do.

  But that’s not actually what she does.

  Instead, she thinks about it. She doesn’t really know what’s going on outside. She’s pretty sure those were gunshots she heard a few minutes ago. She flashes on an image of slovenly men, unshaven half-crazed terrorists, standing menacingly in a semicircle in the cratered remains of the front yard, just waiting for her to open the door so they can unleash a deadly hail of machine-gun fire – who knows, maybe even bazookas and rocket launchers. They threw the firebomb into the house with the express purpose of smoking her out, but she’s too smart for them, if she remains calm, if she doesn’t panic…

  But even as the images of the waiting ambush flash through her mind, she realizes how absurd they are.

  It’s time to stop thinking.

  It’s time to act.

  And so she leaps out over the flames and lands squarely in the middle of a small section of the foyer that has yet to catch fire.

  She’s considering her next jump even before she hits the floor, planning the path between the pools of fire that separate her from the door… but her knee gives way, and she collapses in a heap on the wooden floor.

  Oh my God, did I just re-injure my knee? Did all those weeks of rehab just go down the drain? Am I going to have to…

  Stop it! she orders herself. If I don’t get out of here soon, it’s not going to make a rat’s ass worth of difference whether my knee is injured or not.

  Don’t panic! she orders herself. Stay calm.

  Let’s see, the door must be right over…

  She leaps to her feet, grimacing against the expected twinge of pain, but it never comes, her knee actually feels okay, what a relief… but thick smoke is starting to curl around her, and she’s becoming disoriented…

  Before she can even begin to guess the direction of the door, the curtains that hang over the shattered window erupt in sheets of flame. Caught up in the fire’s swirling winds, the curtains billow madly, sending a kaleidoscope of sparks and embers flying through the foyer, illuminating the small room like a sudden flash of lightning.

  Well, there’s the door, Jillian thinks, even as she realizes that there’s no longer any way that she can reach it – located immediately adjacent to the window, the door has already begun to rage with the flames that are spreading from the curtains with alarming speed.

  It’s not fair! Jillian thinks. I was almost out the door. What am I going to do now? Go back upstairs? I could jump from a window up there, couldn’t I? It’s not that high up, is it? I probably wouldn’t even hurt myself or anything, would I?

  But a glance reveals that retreating up the steps is no longer an option, as the thin stream of fire that she leaped over just seconds ago has become a raging river of flame that blocks her escape.

  “Help me!” she screams. “Help me! I’m in here!” But she can barely even hear herself over the roar of the conflagration, so there’s little chance that anybody outside can hear her either.

  If, indeed, there’s anyone out there who’s still alive.

  There’s a hallway around here somewhere, she thinks, trying desperately to remember the layout of the ground floor. It leads to the kitchen – I think – and the kitchen has a couple of windows, I can get out that way. But how can I find it? The goddamn smoke’s so thick that I can barely see anything.

  And it doesn’t much matter where she decides to go, because the fire appears to be intent on making that decision for her. She takes a few steps backward as the flames and the billowing smoke advance, then she turns and tries to grope her way through the gloom. And somehow, even with her arms outstretched in front of her, she manages to walk directly into a wall, bumping her head painfully…

  But wait – if this is a wall, it must lead somewhere. Maybe this is the hallway. If I just follow the wall… Which way? I think it’s down this way, but maybe I’m turned around… And it’s clearer the other way, anyway. And I’ve got to get away from this smoke – don’t more people die from inhaling smoke than from the flames themselves? No, can’t think about dying, got to keep moving. But if I get too much of this shit in my lungs it’s going to mess up my breathing for the race…

  Oh my God, a doorknob, this must be the kitchen… Now, before I open the door, I’m supposed to feel it to make sure it’s not hot, right? No, it feels pretty normal, I think – although it’s so goddamn hot in here that I probably couldn’t tell, anyway… But what if the door’s locked? No, it couldn’t be, not in this place, they never lock anything around here…

  And the knob does turn. And the door does open.

  Thank God, she thinks, as she slips past the door and shuts it quickly behind her.

  But where am I? she wonders. If I were in the kitchen, I’d see some light coming in the windows, wouldn’t I? Why is it so dark in here? I didn’t stumble into a closet, did I? Let’s see, if I feel my way along the wall, maybe I can… Is this a light switch?

  And when she flips the switch, the room is instantly filled with the soft, warm glow of recessed fluorescent lighting. Wit
h a sickening shock of recognition, she realizes that she’s not in the kitchen, after all; instead, the room that she’s groped her way into is the meeting room, the same room in which she dozed off while listening to Nathan’s interminable lecture. Could that have been just last night? she wonders, incredulously. And the orgy, that was in here too, probably just a few hours ago.

  And now I’m in here. Trapped. No windows. No doors other than the double doors behind me, and they’re getting real hot now, I can’t go back that way. And the smoke’s starting to seep in through the crack between the doors… the smoke’s leaking in, just like the light was leaking out into the foyer when I was looking in at that disgusting orgy… but now the foyer’s probably not even there anymore, it’s all burnt up, and…

  I don’t want to die, she whispers. Please, God, please don’t let me die.

  What am I going to do?

  Stumbling over to the part of the room that’s farthest from the doors – the doors that seem to be all that stand between her and certain death – Jillian does the only thing that she can think of to do: She slumps down into the corner, puts her head into her hands, and starts to cry.

  4.3.14: Sturdivant

  Nathan is leading the disciples in a chant, a sing-song tune, like a nursery rhyme in a strange language.

  Waves of smoke billow out the gaping hole that used to be a window. Tongues of flame lap at the windowsill. And yet Sunshine finds a soothing comfort in the hypnotic phrases of the chant. She’s not afraid to die – and she’d rather die here, with Nathan, than anyplace else in the world.

  She’s entranced by the chant, her eyes are closed, and so she doesn’t see the movement on the lawn. But when she hears Jnana shout – “BHAKTI!” – her eyes shoot open and she stops chanting in mid-syllable.

  “Bhakti,” Jnana screams. “Bhakti, you’re alive!”

  Sunshine watches as Stevie struggles to his feet. He seems a little woozy, he’s shaking his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. He gawks at the fire, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. In his hand, he holds a long knife with a shiny blade that gleams in the morning sunlight…

  “Bhakti, cut us loose!” Now that there’s a chance that she might survive, everything changes in an instant, and Sunshine feels her mood change from resigned to desperate. “Bhakti, save us!”

  For a moment, it seems that Stevie might be too confused to do anything, that Sunshine and the rest of the disciples might be engulfed in flames before he’s able to get his bearings. He looks blankly at the disciples as the fire roars dangerously close behind them. He stares at the knife in his hand. He glances behind him, perhaps expecting to find Billy running at him just as he rushed at Billy minutes ago. He looks back at the disciples, who are screaming at him frantically from the porch. He looks at Nathan, and Sunshine is not surprised to see that Nathan has remained serenely calm, he smiles back at Bhakti with his usual sparkle…

  “NATHAN!” Stevie yells. Galvanized into action, he races up onto the porch and saws at the bonds that secure Nathan to the post.

  A swarm of screams suddenly circles around Sunshine. Bhakti, please hurry, some of the disciples are crying. IT HURTS! little Chakra screams, as the flames spill from the window and begin to lap at her arms. Help me, she begs; please, Bhakti, HELP ME! Sunshine watches him cut them loose, one at a time, the sharp blade slicing through their restraints, and then it’s her turn, and now she’s free, and she tries to untie Jnana, but her hands seem to be shaking, and she’s fumbling with the knots, and they refuse to budge, and then Bhakti’s there with the knife, and he’s slicing through the knots, and now Jnana is free…

  And now they’re all free. They scamper down from the porch, and Sunshine looks back to make sure that they’re all okay… and there’s Nathan, he’s ambling serenely down the steps as if he were out for a Sunday stroll… and now they’re safe, Nathan and his flock. They back away from the house, and they’re watching it burn, and they’re hugging each other, crying on each other’s shoulder, drying each other’s tears…

  But then Sunshine suddenly tenses. “Jill,” she says, her eyes wide. “WHERE’S JILL?” Everyone stops what they’re doing and stares at her, because Sunshine never raises her voice, and it seems to take everyone a few seconds to get over the shock enough to realize what she’s saying.

  “Has anyone seen Jill?” Sunshine asks – as if, perhaps, the other disciples have recently been hanging out in places that Sunshine has not had access to. “She’s not still in the house, is she?” It’s almost a moan, a desperate, hollow sound. “Please,” she begs, “please tell me she’s not still in the house.”

  And at that, the other disciples turn to stare at the house. The front wall is ablaze, and the porch – where they were tied just moments ago – is quickly being consumed by the crackling flames. As Sunshine watches, the front door collapses outward with a crash, sending showers of sparks and embers flying. Clouds of smoke billow from the hole that had been the main entrance to their home.

  “Nathan!” Sunshine grabs Nathan’s arm, nearly shaking him, as if literally pumping him for information. “Nathan, you were the last one out. Did you see Jill? Where was she?”

  Sunshine can feel that the other disciples are stunned – no disciple talks to Nathan so roughly, with no trace of reverence for his great holiness, no one, not ever, not under any circumstances. And yet Sunshine is quizzing him as if he were just an ordinary person!

  But Nathan seems to be unperturbed by the rough treatment. “We were in the foyer, talking,” he says, as casually unconcerned as if someone has asked him how he spent his summer vacation. “She went back upstairs just before I came out. When I last saw her, she was standing in the hallway overlooking the foyer.”

  “If she was okay,” someone points out, “she would have jumped out a window by now. It’s not that high from upstairs.”

  “Maybe she came back downstairs after Nathan came out,” someone else suggests. A few seconds of silence follow while the disciples contemplate that possibility. The raging fire leaves little doubt of what her fate would have been if she had followed that course of action.

  “Maybe she jumped out of a window and hurt herself,” Walker says. “I mean, it’s not that high a jump from upstairs, but she could have sprained her ankle or knocked herself out or something.”

  “I’ll run around this side and look for her,” Sunshine says, as she heads off to the right of the house. “Quick, someone else go the other way. I’ll meet you around back.”

  And not only does someone follow her urgent demand, all of the disciples run off to circle the house in one direction or another.

  But when they meet in back of the house, no one has anything to report.

  “She must still be inside,” someone says glumly.

  “JILL!” Sunshine yells. And again, louder: “JILL!”

  From the back of the house, the fire doesn’t look nearly as menacing as it had from the front. A breeze has been stirring as the sun heats the fields, it’s blowing from behind where Sunshine and the other disciples stand gazing fearfully at their home. The wind seems to be blowing most of the smoke out the front of the structure, and it’s clearly impeding the progress of the flames toward the rear. From where she stands, Sunshine can see flames shooting off the front of the roof and lapping at the sides of the house. But with the exception of a few wispy streams of smoke that have started to curl out of the kitchen window, the back of the house has not yet been compromised.

  And so Sunshine makes a decision.

  “I’m going in after her,” she says.

  Walker seems to have anticipated that move, he grabs her arm before she even takes a step. “No, Sunshine,” he says. “It’s too late.”

  “You don’t know that,” Sunshine struggles futilely to break free. “She could still be alive.”

  “Sunshine…”

  “I have to try,” she says, desperately. “Let me go. Please, Walker. I’ve got to go in there. You have no right to hold
me here.”

  “If Jill were still alive,” Walker says, as he relaxes his grip with seeming reluctance, “she’d be out here by now. The only explanation for her not being out here is that she’s dead. And if you go in there, you’ll die too.”

  “I’m not afraid to die.”

  “Of course you’re not. But why should you die for no reason? There’s nothing you can do, can’t you see that?” Walker glances at Nathan as if for support, but Nathan merely looks on, the interested spectator to the debate, revealing no indication of his thoughts.

  “I don’t have time to argue,” Sunshine says, as she moves toward the back door with determination. “Jill’s in trouble, and she needs my help.”

  “Sunshine, be reasonable,” Walker says. “Look, if she had been upstairs when the fire started, she would have jumped out a window. And if she had been downstairs and was still alive, she would have found her way to one of the downstairs windows and climbed out, right? Either way, if she were still alive, she’d have gotten out. But she’s not out here, so she didn’t get out. She must have been downstairs when the fire started, maybe right in the foyer, maybe right behind the window. She didn’t have a chance, Sunshine. She must be dead. I’m sorry, I really am, but that’s the only explanation. And if you go in there, you’ll be dead too, and there won’t be any reason for it. No reason at all.”

  Is Jill really dead? Sunshine wonders. Is it possible that someone who was so full of life just hours ago could have been snuffed out so unceremoniously? Wouldn’t I have felt something if she had died? Some kind of warp in the fabric of the universe?

  But if she is alive, where is she? Walker’s probably right, if Jill were still alive she could have saved herself by just climbing out of a window.

  Unless…

  “Oh, Walker!” Suddenly white as a sheet, Sunshine grabs his arm. “Walker, what if she’s in the meeting room? There are no windows in the meeting room! What if she was downstairs when the fire started, and the flames drove her into the meeting room, and she’s trapped in there, and she can’t get out…”