Transition

by Henry Charles Mishkoff

  Walker is shaking his head. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he says. “If she was in the meeting room, all she’d have to do is open the side door and walk down the hall and she’d be…”

  “But maybe she doesn’t know about the side door! You know how it blends in with the paneling. And it’s probably dark and smoky and she’s scared… Oh, Walker, I’ve got to go in,” Sunshine says, backing toward the house even as she continues to speak. “I’ve got to.”

  And Sunshine can see that Walker wants to say, no, that’s ridiculous, of course she’d see the door, but he knows that she’s right, if Jill is in the meeting room, with the flames lapping at the double doors that lead to the foyer, she probably thinks that she’s trapped. And there’s no way that Walker can honestly say otherwise.

  “Good luck,” Walker finally whispers, which sounds strange to Sunshine, because the disciples don’t believe in luck. “And Godspeed,” he adds, which is also strange, but she’s not about to get into a theological discussion with him, so instead she reaches up and kisses him on the cheek.

  And then she turns and opens the back door. The kitchen is filled with drifting, curling smoke, but it’s very thin, she can easily see where she’s going. Through the darkness – maybe from out in the hall? – a flickering orange glow cuts through the haze. The flames are advancing.

  I don’t have much time, she realizes. If I don’t find Jill and get back out quick, I won’t be able to get out through the back door again. Which means that I won’t be able to get out at all.

  She steps through the back door, turns quickly to her left, and runs down the hall that leads to the side door of the meeting room. As she races into the gloom, she’s hoping as hard as she can that Jillian’s waiting for her, waiting in the meeting room, waiting on the other side of the hidden door.

  Waiting for Sunshine to save her life.

  4.3.15: Sturdivant

  “Jill! Jill, are you in here?”

  “Oh my God… Sunshine? Is that you?”

  “Jill, where are you? It’s so dark in here…”

  “I’m over here, oh thank God, thank God, I’m over here, where are you? I can’t see you, it’s so smoky…”

  And then, somehow, they bump into each other in the darkness, and Jillian is crying, sobbing uncontrollably, clinging desperately to Sunshine.

  “I can’t believe you’re really here,” Jillian says over and over again. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. I’m not dreaming, am I? Am I dead already?”

  And Sunshine is saying, “I knew you were alive, I knew it, I just knew it,” as she strokes Jillian’s hair, soaked with sweat from the heat and the fear. And then: “Come on, Jill, we’ve got to get out of here. Fast.”

  “But we can’t go anywhere,” Jillian moans. “The fire’s right at the door.” And then: “Wait a minute – how did you get in here? How did you get through the fire?”

  “I came in through the side door. Here, this way. Let’s get out of here.”

  Jillian is nearly hysterical. “Side door? I didn’t even know there was a side door,” she says, looking around in awe as Sunshine leads her through it. “Oh my God, you mean I could have gotten out the whole time? You mean that all I had to do was open the door, and I didn’t even look for it?”

  “It’s not easy to see,” Sunshine explains, as she rushes Jillian down the narrow hall. “It’s covered with paneling, just like the wall. If you don’t know it’s there, you won’t know it’s there.”

  “Why would anyone hide a door?” Now that the fear is beginning to ease off, she’s getting angry. “You mean I almost died because some moron tried to hide the goddamn door?”

  “We didn’t try to hide it,” Sunshine explains. “We sometimes face that wall when we meditate, so we tried to make it look as unbroken as possible, you know, so there won’t be any distractions or…”

  But Sunshine never completes the thought, because a section of the ceiling above the hall collapses in flames not five feet in front of them. A shower of hissing sparks flies at them and makes them jump back. If we had been moving just the tiniest bit faster, Jillian thinks, that would have landed right on top of us, and we’d be… She shakes her head to purge the thought.

  “What do we do now?” Jillian whispers to Sunshine, surveying the burning mass that blocks their way. Sunshine will know, she thinks. Sunshine will know what to do.

  “And we were so close,” Sunshine says sadly. “So close. The back door isn’t but maybe ten feet from here, just around that corner. So close. I thought for sure we were going to make it.”

  “Sunshine, what are you talking about? Let’s go! Come on!”

  “Jill, there’s no place to go. The hall’s blocked. We’d never be able to get through those flames. And the only other way to go from here is back to where we came from, and that’s…”

  “So, what, you’re just going to give up? Yeah, that’s just like you, Sunshine, you quit when we’re almost there. You quit when you race, and now you’re quitting on getting us out of here. Well, I’m not a goddamn quitter, and I say there’s got to be a way out.”

  Sunshine is stunned almost to the point of tears. “Jill,” she says, “that’s not fair. There’s nothing we can do. And when there’s nothing you can do, you just have to accept it. It doesn’t do you any good to fight against fate. It doesn’t…”

  “Fate, my ass,” Jillian snorts. “There’s got to be something we can do. You know this house. Think, goddamn it. Think!”

  “Jill,” Sunshine says, bewildered, “really, I…”

  “What about this wall? Is this an outside wall?”

  “Ummmm… yeah, I guess it is. I mean, it would have to be because the hall runs right along the back of the house…”

  “HEY!” Jillian screams, pounding on the wall with both fists. “HEY! WE’RE IN HERE! GET US OUT OF HERE! HELP US!”

  “Jill, do you really think…”

  “Stop arguing with me and help me!” Jillian demands, as she continues to pound on the wall. “GET US OUT OF HERE!”

  “I wasn’t arguing with you…”

  “I don’t care what the fuck you were doing! Just shut up and help me! HEY! IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?”

  And then they’re both pounding on the wall and yelling, literally screaming for their lives, and the flames are getting hotter and closer, and the smoke floating down the hall from the meeting room is getting thicker and darker, and they’re beating on the wall as if they could break it down with their fists and escape the inferno. HEY! WE’RE IN HERE! GET US OUT OF HERE! SAVE US!

  And they’re still screaming and pounding, pounding and screaming, when Sunshine suddenly stops. “What was that?” she says, and Jillian stops too, listening, and there it is again, a dull thud – someone beating on the wall outside? HELP! they both yell with renewed vigor. HELP! WE’RE TRAPPED IN HERE! GET US OUT OF HERE!

  And they’re still screaming at the top of their lungs when the tip of the ax blade breaks through the wall, nearly striking Jillian in the shoulder, and they both back away, and then there’s another blow of the ax, and then another, and another, and with each blow the blade drives further into the hall, and then the entire ax head is sticking through the wall, and they can see the lean wooden shaft, and the ax falls again and again, and the small hole gets wider and wider, and then there’s a hand wrapped in a bright orange glove, and then an arm in a shiny black sleeve, and then the hole is big enough for a person to fit through, and the arm grabs first Jillian, who’s closest, and then Sunshine, and pulls them out of the fire, out of certain death, into the daylight.

  4.3.16: Sturdivant

  She’s lying on the grass. A ring of faces is staring down at her. A man in a white coat is kneeling over her, shining a flashlight into her eyes, asking her stupid questions, like: What’s your name? Where do you live? Do you know where you are?

  What difference does it make? Jillian wonders. Why can’t they just leave me alone? I’m okay, she says, weakly, I’m
okay. Just give me a minute to catch my breath. It’s all so confusing…

  Give them some room, someone demands, and the circle of faces recedes.

  Here, breathe into this, says the man in the white coat. And then a clear plastic mask is being pressed over her face, and she tries to push it off, but a strong hand restrains her. And when the blast of cool oxygen hits her, it’s a jolt, like a slap in the face. Her brain starts to clear, and it’s as if she’s under water, swimming to the surface…

  And then the man in the white coat is gone, and the mask with him.

  Jillian cautiously props herself up on her elbows and looks around. Sunshine lies on the grass next to her; the man in the white coat now kneels by her, holding the oxygen mask to her face.

  People are dashing all over the lawn. People in uniform. Firemen, policemen. People in summer shirtsleeves. Lights are flashing from around the side of the house, red and blue, red and blue. A siren blares for just a fraction of a second, then it whines to a baleful halt. Water pours down the side and the back of the house in sheets. There must be a fire truck in front, Jillian dimly realizes – and just then, a team of firemen drags a hose around from the front yard and unleashes a torrent of water at the flames that are poking out from the back of the house.

  The back of the house…

  Jesus, Jillian realizes, that’s where we were just a minute ago, in that house, trapped in the hall, fire all around us. If that fireman hadn’t shown up when he did… She begins to shiver. “I’m cold,” she says, sitting up, and someone throws a blanket over her shoulders.

  “Are you okay, Jill?” Sunshine, now sitting next to Jillian, looks more than a little woozy herself.

  “I… I think so,” Jillian says. “I’m just so cold. But I’m… Oh, Jesus.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. I mean… I just remembered the way I acted in there. The things I said to you. I feel like such an asshole.”

  “Jill, don’t be silly.” Sunshine reaches over and gives Jillian’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “You were under a lot of stress. We both were.”

  “Sunshine, I… I wouldn’t even be alive it wasn’t for you.” Jillian searches Sunshine’s eyes for a moment, then she looks down. “I mean, you came into that house after me…” Her voice cracks, and she struggles to bring it back under control. “You risked your own life to save mine. You’re so brave and all I did was give you a bunch of shit. I’m so sorry, Sunshine. I don’t know what to say. I…” She puts her face in her hands and shakes her head. “I owe you my life. I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, Jill, no,” Sunshine says, consolingly, and leans over to hug her. “You have no reason to feel embarrassed, and you don’t have anything to be sorry for. And you don’t owe me anything. If the situation were reversed, you know you’d do the same thing for me.”

  Would I? Jillian wonders. “I don’t know, Sunshine,” she says, leaning her head wearily on Sunshine’s shoulder. “I think that maybe you’re giving me too much credit. I can be real selfish sometimes, you know? I mean, I try not to be, I really do, and I know that I should do more to help other people, but sometimes I feel like I’m just so goddamn self-centered …”

  Suddenly, Sunshine draws back, her face lined with concern.

  “What’s wrong?” Jillian says. Oh my God, she thinks, was it something I said? Did I make it worse? Maybe I picked the wrong time to open up like that to her…

  “I’m sorry, Jill. I forgot that you asked me not to do that.”

  “Not to… not to do what?”

  “Not to hug you. Because of… because of what you saw.”

  “Oh, Sunshine.” What have I done? Jillian wonders, distraught. Not only did I give the poor girl a hard time while she was trying to save my life, but now she’s afraid to even touch me. “Oh, God, Sunshine, please forgive me, I’m so sorry…”

  “Oh, no, Jill, you don’t have to apologize…”

  “Oh, yes I do, I feel like such an idiot…”

  “Oh, no Jill, you mustn’t feel that way…”

  “You girls alright?”

  “We’re fine,” Jillian says. Turning to look at the figure who stands peering down at them, she recognizes the fireman who pulled them from the burning building. “Thanks to you,” she adds, with what she hopes is a warm smile, although she doesn’t much feel like smiling. This seems to be my morning, she thinks, for thanking people for saving my life. “That was a very brave thing you did.”

  “Just doing my job, miss,” he says, and Jillian has the feeling that he’s embarrassed. From his voice, she guesses that he’s might be in his mid-twenties, just a little older than she is, although the grime that masks his face makes him appear to be older. “I’m just glad to see that you’re both okay.”

  He looks down at the ground, then he looks over at Sunshine, then he looks down at the ground again. Boy, Jillian thinks, this guy sure does get embarrassed easily, all I did was say thanks. But there’s something more than just embarrassment in it, he seems so uncomfortable, especially when he looks at Sunshine. And now she’s staring at him, and she’s got the strangest look on her face…

  “I’d best be getting back to the fire,” he says, still looking down at the ground. “We got it pretty much under control now, but it’s not gonna burn itself out for a while yet, and we have to keep an eye out for hotspots. I’m afraid there won’t be nothing left of the house, but nobody was hurt, so…”

  “I know you,” Sunshine says. It’s almost more of a question than a statement. Her voice is tinged with surprise.

  “No, ma’am,” the fireman says, shaking his head. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met before. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

  “I recognize your voice,” Sunshine says, this time with more certainty. “You were out here before, weren’t you? You were the one they called Ace.”

  “What do you mean, ‘out here before’?” Jillian wants to know. “He’s not one of them who burned the house down, is he?” she adds, incredulously.

  “No ma’am,” Ace responds emphatically. “I’ve never burned nothing down in my entire life.” He says that convincingly, Jillian thinks. But why does he look so defensive? “I’ve been a volunteer fireman for seven years, and I know the terrible things a fire can do, yessir, I sure do – I mean, yes ma’am, I sure do. I would never start one of them suckers, not in a million years, not on your life. And you can take that to the bank.”

  “He left before the fire,” Sunshine explains. “He didn’t do anything, Jill, really he didn’t. They were just being rowdy. Billy started the fire all by himself, after everyone else left.”

  “Who’s Billy?” Jillian asks. Why do I feel like I walked into the middle of a movie? Does everybody but me know what’s going on?

  “Now hold on just a minute there.” Ace looks around furtively, as if to determine whether anyone else is within hearing range, then he lowers his voice to make sure that they’re not. “I’m not saying that I was out here at all. I want to make sure that we got that straight. You said that I was out here. I didn’t. Just so long as we understand that.”

  Sunshine is contrite. “Oh, of course, I understand,” she nods. “But don’t worry, nobody’s going to try to get you into any trouble.”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Jillian puts her hand over her eyes. She feels a headache coming on. “Sunshine,” she says slowly. “Tell me. Is this guy one of the people who were out here last night or isn’t he?”

  “Well, Jill, I don’t know what to say.” She looks back and forth from Jillian to Ace, confused. “I mean, I thought he was. But I didn’t actually see anybody, you know? They all had some kind of bags over their heads so I couldn’t see their faces.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jillian says again. “If you couldn’t see anybody, how do you know that some guy named Billy started the fire?”

  “She doesn’t know that,” Ace interrupts. “That’s the point.”

  “That’s true, Jill. I
guess.” Sunshine sounds studiously undecided. “Billy was wearing… I mean, whoever started the fire was wearing a mask, too.”

  “Well, this is all too much, Sunshine.” Jillian shakes her head and sighs. “Really. This is too fucking much. Here some guys come and burn down your house, they almost kill you – they almost kill me, for Chrissakes – and you’re not even gonna try to identify them, are you? You’re going to let them get off scot-free. Just like you did with that guy who raped you. You never learn anything.”

  Sunshine stares at the ground, long and hard, and for a moment, it looks like she’s going to cry, but she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn’t do anything. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t move. She just sits there, staring at the ground, her eyes seeming to grow unfocused.

  And then, in a flash of insight, Jillian knows.

  “Holy shit,” she says, in an almost reverential whisper. Then louder: “Holy shit. It’s the same guy, isn’t it? The same guy who raped you? Billy? He’s the guy who burned down your house tonight, isn’t he? You didn’t turn him in when he raped you, and now he’s gone and nearly killed both of us, and you’re still not going to do anything about it, are you? I don’t believe it,” she says disgustedly. “I just don’t fucking believe it.”

  Hot anger erupts inside her, and she wants to say more. She wants to tell Sunshine exactly what she thinks of her. She wants to unleash on Sunshine every creative curse that she’s learned from her daddy over the years and add in a few of her own for good measure. But damn it, she thinks, Sunshine did just save my life. I’ve already given her a load of grief once and I regretted it immediately. Maybe I better just keep my big mouth shut until I have some time to sort this mess out.

  “And you,” Jillian says, taking her wrath out on Ace instead, “what do you have to say for yourself? This guy, Billy, he’s a friend of yours? Maybe you weren’t here when he actually burned the fucking house down, but you were here with him earlier…”