Mr. Sandman: A Thrilling Novel

by Lyle Howard

  Lance liked the odds. “You want me to pick you up?” he asked as he pushed himself away from his cluttered desk. “I can be at the station in ten minutes.”

  Lincoln shuddered. “The way you drive? Let me think up a quick excuse for Althea and then I’ll be over in a squad car in less than five…and…Cutter?”

  “Yes?”

  “I hope you’re not leading me on a wild goose chase, pal. If I get home later than ten o’clock … she’ll murder me!”

  EIGHTEEN

  A warm swirling breeze drifted down Eaglebrook Drive, carrying with it the diverse odors of early dinners being prepared in various kitchens along the block. A group of children playing tag football further down the street hollered victoriously as one of their teammates crossed the makeshift goal line, delineated by an imaginary boundary stretched between the bumpers of two parked cars.

  Harry Kaplan was not as cheerful. He looked inside the pet carrier and carefully thought about Sara’s request to hold the ferret. The animal wasn’t his to do with as he pleased, but what harm could come of it if the little girl handled the critter for a few measly seconds? “Are you sure?” he asked, looking down on her uplifted face. “The ferret’s claws can be very sharp.”

  Sara’s older sister studied the furry brown animal as it cowered in the back of the carrier. “I’m not so sure you should, Sara.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why would you want to?” Jesse chimed in. “It looks like a big rat … Yeech!”

  Kaplan tapped on the box to attract the animal’s attention, but it was obvious that the ferret was disturbed by all of the sudden interest. “Maybe your sister is right, Sara. He looks a bit upset. I wouldn’t want him clawing you.”

  Sara pouted. “I won’t let him claw me.”

  “You may not have a say in it,” Jesse warned her.

  Sara snarled at the young boy. “I’m old enough to hold the ferret if I want to. I’m not worried about it scratching me.”

  “Are you sure?” Adrian asked. “Mom will ring your neck if you get hurt.”

  Sara poked her finger into the carrier again. “I can handle Mom. So, is it okay, Mr. Kaplan?”

  Harry shook his head. “I don’t know, Sara. I don’t want to cause any trouble in your family.”

  Sara looked up excitedly. He was using the same tone her father used whenever he was about to give in. “You won’t be, Mr. Kaplan … I promise!”

  “What do you think, Adrian?” Kaplan asked apprehen­sively.

  Adrian, against her better judgment, acquiesced. “Just get it over with already so we can get home in time for dinner. Mom’s making fried chicken.”

  Jesse backed down off the porch and onto the lawn. Something about the nervous animal had struck a frightful chord in the young boy, he stuttered with genuine fear as he stared up at his friends who remained on the porch. “Don’t hold it near me … it’s gross!”

  Julie Chapman’s front porch was an open, breezy deck, accommodating a white, wrought-iron tea table and four floral-cushioned, wrought-iron chairs. The wooden platform structure was encompassed on the lawn by a hedge of Maui ixora plants, bearing colorful red-orange blossoms which, from the street, gave the appearance of the deck being surrounded by a ring of fire.

  Harry Kaplan lifted the carrier off the front doormat and lugged it over to the small table. “Let me put it on the table,” he said as the two girls tagged behind him. “It will probably be easier to handle if we set it down on here.”

  Out on the lawn, Jesse’s attention suddenly turned to the driveway; Julie having taken the rest of her shift off, pulled up in her car. Jesse waved to her and, with a perplexed look on her face from seeing all of the commotion in front of the house, returned the gesture. “Mr. Kaplan,” Jesse called out, “Julie’s home!”

  Harry smiled at both sisters who were crowded around the carrier. “Oh, this is perfect timing,” he said enthusiastically. “Now we can surprise Julie with her gift!”

  “But I still get to hold him, right?” Sara asked.

  “You sure do, sweetheart,” Kaplan said excitedly. “But first, I want to take him over to Julie!”

  Julie shut off the ignition and stepped out onto the black asphalt. “What’s going on here?” she asked Jesse.

  “Wait till you see it!”

  Julie looked over at the odd gathering on the porch. “Wait until I see what?”

  With the same visual force that Moses might have felt at the parting of the Red Sea, the two sisters separated to give Julie her first glimpse of the pet carrier perched on the table. At first she didn’t make a connection, but as soon as she saw Harry Kaplan reach into the box, the siren sounded in her head. “Leave it alone, Harry!” she screamed.

  Kaplan giggled in tandem with the two young siblings standing by his side. “Heh … heh, Julie doesn’t know what a thrill she’s in for, does she, girls?”

  For Julie Chapman, the next two minutes would crawl by in slow motion. Most firefighters accept the fact that facing death is a part of their job. They are taught the latest methods of self-preservation and are equipped with the most modern protective equipment and clothing offered. Stepping fully supplied into a raging inferno was something she was trained to do, but nothing could prepare her for what was about to unfold.

  Julie felt like a sail without wind. She was aware of everything happening around her, but helpless to do anything about it. In a later account of the tragedy, she would be able to detail the rustling of every leaf, every subtlety in the flight path of a small sparrow that had sailed overhead, and most importantly, the horrified expressions on each of the three youngsters that would be permanently branded into her memory.

  The ferret squealed in displeasure as Harry’s hand probed inside of the carrier. In an instinctive act of self-defense, the animal clawed at the moist blanket and tried in vain to burrow itself beneath it. As Harry struggled to free the spread in the ferret’s ferocious grip, he was careful not to get too close to the animal’s razor-sharp nails. “Come on, you little bugger,” Kaplan urged, as he finally managed to grab the ferret by the nape of its neck, “there’s some people out here who want to see your ugly face!”

  Cradling the creature the way a mother would hold a newborn baby, Kaplan slowly turned to show the ferret to the two little girls.

  The feeling immediately swept over his arms and hands like they had been dipped into a vat of boiling water. As the hyperactive little animal squirmed to liberate itself from Harry’s gentle but firm hold, it rubbed its lethal coating all over his upper extremities.

  With little less than three feet separating him from the two sisters, Harry howled in agony as the flesh on his unprotected arms began to char and blister. The little girls shrieked in horror, caught up in the hysteria of the gruesome sight. The smallest child, unable to control her bladder, drenched the crotch of her faded blue jeans.

  In the blink of an eye, Harry Kaplan’s arms had become two roaring stems of fire. The ferret, which had fallen to the floor, let out an eardrum-piercing screech as it darted back and forth across the wooden floorboards, unable to compre­hend that it was gasping for its last few seconds of life.

  Harry was waving his arms like a cheerleader, trying to extinguish the flames that were spreading up the sides of his neck, and down over his chest. Out in the front yard, Jesse Parker didn’t wait around for explanations. He turned and bolted for home as fast as his Reeboks would carry him.

  The ferret, now nothing more than a screaming fireball with four legs, dove off the porch and zigzagged across the center of the lawn, leaving a five-inch path of scorched St. Augustine grass in its wake.

  Julie watched in paralyzing panic as the little animal stopped a few feet shy of her car and violently began rolling over and over, trying to extinguish its flaming pelt.

  Back on the porch, Harry was quickly becoming an animate bonfire as the white-hot tongues of fire licked at his face. Flailing his arms like a windmill, the two wheels of flame gave the same visu
al impact as a Polynesian dancer spinning a set of blazing batons. There was no describing the guttural wails of anguish that Kaplan was trying desperately to articulate as he leapt over the porch railing and plunged, a flare shot from a rescue gun, over the steps and onto the grass.

  Sara and Adrian Mathews had both fallen to their knees and were hugging each other for reassurance. How this hideous sight would influence them later in their lives would be anybody’s guess, but their eight-year-old cat, Sylvester, would live another five years in the despair of loneliness before either of them would ever attempt to hold him again.

  Julie reached into the pants pocket of her uniform and began fumbling for the key to the trunk of her car. Inside the trunk, she knew that she always kept a blanket and a first-aid kit. She always carried the contingency equipment just in case she came upon an accident while she was on the road.

  Harry was writhing on the ground. The fire was spreading faster now and had crept below his knees and was working its way up the sides of his face.

  Julie’s hand seemed to have lost all of its motor coordi­nation as she wrestled to slip the key into the lock. Valuable time was wasted until she realized she had been trying to slip the ignition key into the unforgiving latch. “Oh Lord … help me,” she lamented to herself as she tried to hold back a flood of uncontrollable tears.

  “Help me … please … ” Kaplan pleaded, as he convulsed on the lawn like an epileptic in the throes of a grand mal seizure.

  Down the block, the handful of young tag-football play­ers heard the commotion and raced the length of the block to see what all the excitement was about. At first glance, their prepubescent brains couldn’t disseminate the sheer terror of the grisly carnage they were witnessing, but then, one by one, the nauseating sights and rancid smells of burning flesh and clothing caused them to run screaming to the sanctuary of their own houses.

  The trunk popped open and Julie grabbed the blanket. She was running purely on instinct as she covered Harry Kaplan’s burning body and began patting him down. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two young girls, still curled up on the porch, cowering together. “Sara … Adrian,” she yelled, “run home and tell your mother to call 911!”

  Adrian tugged on her little sister’s arm, but she wouldn’t budge. “Come on, Sara … run … run!”

  Little Sara was frozen with fright. Her body had become immobile, as though all of her muscles had decided to shut down in unison. Adrian again yanked on her arm, but all of her exertion was for naught. “She won’t move!” the older sister screamed down at Julie.

  “Then leave her there … I’ll watch her,” Julie yelled back.

  “Just run home, and have your mother call for an ambulance.”

  Before Julie had even finished her sentence, Adrian had leapt over the porch railing and was sprinting for her kitchen phone at breakneck speed.

  Under the blanket, the flames had subsided and Harry was slowly going into shock and shivering uncontrollably. His face was framed by charred red and black flesh, and, with the exception of his feet, the rest of his body had been consumed by blistering burns.

  Julie tucked the pale blue comforter around his shaking form until he was wrapped as tightly as a caterpillar in a cocoon. She left his head exposed and whispered words of encouragement every time it appeared that he was looking up at her. His lips twisted in an effort to speak, but no words emerged through the singed orifice.

  “You’re gonna be just fine,” Julie whispered as she looked over at the ferret’s smoking carcass next to her car. “We’re gonna get you some help right away, Harry. You just hang in there!”

  Kaplan’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing a pair of barren eyes that were as red as the number three ball on a billiard table. Bubbles of saliva dripped out of the corner of his mouth as he strained to speak. His voice was barely audible, so Julie had to press her ear close to his mouth to hear the one word he kept repeating.

  “Cone … ” he gasped, ” … Cone ….”

  Julie gently pressed her finger to his swollen, ashen-colored lips. “Shh … be quiet now, Harry. Help is on the way … just take it easy and don’t try to talk.”

  “Cone ….”

  Julie thought the smart thing to do would be to patronize him. It was evident to her that the old man was in shock and starting to babble incoherently. “I heard you, Harry. Cone … like an ice cream cone … I understand. You’re cold I know. That’s cute … I get it.”

  Kaplan moaned.

  “Shh … Harry. Stop getting yourself all riled up. The ambu­lance should be here any minute.”

  Kaplan coughed up a bubble of viscous brown blood that popped all over his chin. Still kneeling protectively over her next-door neighbor, Julie looked up onto the porch to check on Sara. The little girl hadn’t moved. “Where the hell is that ambulance?” she muttered angrily.

  It was during arduous times like this that a person could learn a valuable lesson in regard to their fellow man. Like the last three soldiers standing in the midst of an enormous battlefield, Julie found herself alone with Harry Kaplan and Sara. No other neighbors were anywhere to be seen. Having dedicated her life to serving others, Julie could never compre­hend the concept of apathy. Surely, she thought, if the children playing down the block had reported anything they had seen to their parents, you would think that at least one of the adults would have offered some speck of assistance! But Julie had learned the unfortunate lesson long ago not to be disappointed when nobody lent a hand.

  Off in the distance, growing louder with each passing second, Julie could hear the siren. Out of breath, Adrian had also come racing back. “I called 911 myself, Julie!” she panted. “My mom will be right over, too. She just had to throw on some nicer clothes.”

  Julie brushed a wisp of fine white hair off Harry’s forehead. “What does the well-dressed woman wear to a tragedy?”

  Embarrassed, Adrian pinched her nose and looked away. “What do you want from me? That’s just the way my mom is.”

  Julie nodded that it didn’t matter. “Go up and check on your sister. She hasn’t moved an inch since you left.”

  “Is that smell coming from…?”

  “Shhh … ” Julie pleaded, “go and see if your sister’s okay.”

  The orange and white emergency van screeched to a stop at the curb just as the sun began setting over the neighborhood. Like iron filings drawn to a magnet, the ambulance seemed to finally attract the neighbors from inside of their homes. Now, after the cavalry arrives, the townsfolk decide to make an appearance, Julie marveled to herself.

  As the sinking sun painted the horizon with warm shades of amber and pink, the throng of nosey onlookers assembled across the street, mumbling amongst themselves and craning their necks to see what was happening. But all the time, warily keeping their distance. It seemed that, all of a sudden, the Chapman house was now the “in” place to be seen.

  Julie didn’t recognize either of the paramedics who ran out to join her on the lawn, but one of them was so thin, that if he ever decided to take up shadow boxing, his shadow would probably be a three-to-one favorite. “How did you get here so fast?” the more muscular driver asked, noticing her uniform.

  “It’s my house.”

  “What happened to him?” the thin one asked, kneeling down on the other side of Harry.

  “All you need to know is that you should treat him for third-degree burns, and be careful moving him. He’s precious cargo.”

  The driver spied the small pile of smoking remains near the driveway. “What the hell was that?”

  Julie stood up and her brittle knees cracked. “It used to be a ferret.”

  The paramedic looked at her as though she were crazy.

  “I know … don’t ask,” she added. “Just bag it up like you would evidence. We’ve got to send it to the lab to be tested.”

  “I’ve got a feeling this will be one I’ll be able to tell my grandkids about

  someday … “

  “I�
�ve got a feeling you’re right,” Julie agreed, wiping some of the grass off the knees of her uniform.

  “What about the two little girls up there?” the thin one asked, nodding over at the porch.

  “The older girl is fine, but I think you should take a look at the little one before you take off.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Sara.”

  The paramedic nodded. “I always carry a bag full of Tootsie-Pops, just for these occasions.”

  The annoying sound of scratchy radio transmissions blaring out of the ambulance’s cab gave Julie an impulsive idea. “Can I borrow your radio?” she asked the driver. “There’s someone who needs to know about this right away!”

  “Do you know how to use it?” Julie shot a sarcastic glance his way and he backed off. “Be my guest, then.”

  Julie grabbed hold of the steering wheel and pulled herself up onto the driver’s seat. Reaching over to the center of the dashboard, she removed the microphone from its cradle. “Central dispatch … this is Julie Chapman, a firefighter on the scene at 15140 Eaglebrook Drive.”

  The response was immediate. “Go ahead, Chapman.”

  Julie pressed the red button on the side of the microphone again. “I need you to connect me with Inspector Lance Cutter of the Arson Squad,” she said, checking the clock on the console. “Try his office.”

  A few seconds later, Julie recognized the new voice she heard as Stephanie Rose’s. “Lance Cutter’s office.”

  “Stephanie? It’s Julie Chapman. I’m glad you’re still there. I need to talk to Lance … it’s an emergency!”

  “Gosh, Julie, you just missed him by ten minutes.”

  “He’s gone home?”

  “No, he was going to meet a Sergeant Lincoln from the sheriff’s department. He left here in an awful hurry. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Julie tapped the microphone against her bottom lip as she watched the two paramedics gingerly lifting Harry Kaplan onto a backboard. “Can you have me patched through to him?”

  “I don’t see why not. Can you hang on for a minute?”