Weekend

by Tania Grossinger

  The people on the seven floors below had already started to go down their fire escapes but those on the flights above had yet to react. When Blanche got on to the landing, she wanted to wait for Sam, but the flow of people made it impossible. She started down the slim, iron steps, trying to move as carefully as possible. The hysterical guests behind her wouldn’t tolerate her slowness, and there was some dangerous pushing. A little girl lost her footing entirely and almost fell over the railing. Her mother yelled and pulled her back by the wrist. The child smacked into the grating, scraped her legs, and began to cry. The tall man at the fire escape window continued to shout instructions.

  “TAKE IT EASY. THERE’S PLENTY OF TIME. GO SLOWLY. GO SLOW!”

  The frightened people who had remained on the floor, either in front of the elevator or in their rooms, now realized that the fire escape was their only chance. In a rush, they began to converge at the exit. Women and children were still given priority and Sam Teitelbaum found himself shoved further and further back. Everyone was jostling for a better position. The flow of smoke was now so intense that it was almost impossible to see beyond a foot or two.

  Three flights down, Blanche Teitelbaum looked back and searched the line of descending people for signs of Sam but he wasn’t to be found. Her heart sank. It was impossible to stop on the stairs. She could only go on and wait. Suddenly a closed window on one of the floors above exploded outward, raining pieces of glass on the fleeing line of people. Everyone covered his head. An elderly woman, not much older than Blanche, lost her footing and crashed forward into two people below. It started a chain reaction of slipping and falling, causing people to bang their bodies against the ironwork. The old woman was unable to get up and that stopped the descent of escaping guests. Dozens of people began shouting at her hysterically and that made it even more impossible for her to stand. Finally she was lifted to her feet and handed along so the line could continue.

  Somewhere in the distance the fire sirens wailed but the sound was barely heard. Even if it had been, it would have brought little comfort.

  twenty-two

  As smoke seeped into the corridor and through the vents in Melinda’s suite the party came to an immediate standstill. Someone shut off the music and others rolled off the mattresses. Suddenly there was a rumbling as if the building was falling apart. Because he was quite drunk at this point, Manny Goldberg had difficulty getting to his feet.

  “What is it?” Melinda asked.

  “FIRE!” some woman by the doorway screamed. “FIRE!”

  One of the men beside Melinda threw open a window and leaned out. He could see the crowds streaming out of the building. There must have been over eight hundred people. Just then the hook and ladder trucks reached the hotel’s main gate, their sirens blaring. Other people crowded about the window.

  “Fire trucks,” the man shouted. “This place is fucking burning!”

  His announcement set off a mad rush. Almost everyone started out of the suite and rushed to the elevators, many of them stumbling over the furniture stacked in the hall. One man seized the fire extinguisher on the wall, realized there was nothing in it, and flung it down the corridor. People began pounding on the elevator doors and buttons. Someone shouted about the fire escape and the partygoers ran down toward it.

  The moment the panic began, Melinda’s admirers deserted her. For a brief moment she stood in the bedroom alone. A girl who had consumed too much wine huddled in a corner of the bathroom, babbling and crying like a baby. She clutched handfuls of her skirt and refused to move. Manny staggered to the doorway of the suite and watched. Idiotically, he began to imitate the movements of two hysterical women who ran up and down the corridor, arms flailing, not knowing where to turn. Finally he stumbled along and followed the crowd.

  The entire group converged on the fire escape window which, like those above and below, had to be punched out and kicked away. The bedlam had a sobering effect on most but some, still suffering the effects of drinking, became belligerent. Men and women alike pulled and tugged against each other to get out.

  Melinda stood back and watched with curious detachment. She still couldn’t believe this was happening. Not the fire, specifically, but the fact that not one of the men who had previously vied for her favor now gave a damn about her. They had left her to fend for herself.

  Manny struggled with a young man for a better position. Finally, the man punched him in the gut. He backed up and folded in pain. The crowd quickly filled in the gap.

  Meanwhile, Flo and her lifeguard had awoken in a fit of coughing. Forgetting their nudity for the moment, they crawled out of the large laundry bin and peered into the hall. The sight was terrifying. Clouds of thick smoke were building in the little linen room as well. Without another thought, they joined the evacuation. The fire, the smoke, the screaming and the fear were so great that no one even noticed they were naked.

  When Manny looked up from the floor, he saw his wife pressing and pushing to get to the fire escape landing. A man behind her put his arms around her waist and lifted her out of his way. Manny struggled to get to his feet. He was so dizzy he could barely stand, but he managed to take his jacket off and give it to her.

  “Cover yourself, you bitch,” he hissed under his breath. “I’ll take care of you later.” Everyone around them was choking now. It was becoming almost impossible to breathe. The group became even more violent. Women and children were flung back. The naked lifeguard had wormed his way to the side of the fire escape landing. He rapped the man in front of him in the neck and the man fell over on his side. The lifeguard quickly jumped over his body and pushed himself ahead and out of the window.

  The floor around the elevator doors was the first part to collapse. The doors themselves became unhinged and shot downward into the black nothingness. Walls, rugs and the corridor ceiling began folding into the climbing flames. People were pounding each other to move faster. The stronger crawled over those in front. Most of the sixty people on the floor had by now crawled out of the window and onto the landing. Manny and Flo were among the last six.

  Melinda got back on her feet and had to struggle with two women for position. They scratched and clawed at one another. She pushed them and shoved until she had the advantage and was able to get her hand on the fire escape window frame. One of the women took hold of her skirt. It ripped away from her body and she lashed out, catching the woman in the pelvis. The woman clutched her abdomen and staggered. Melinda crawled through the window on to the landing. She was right behind Manny and Flo.

  The line of descending people was slowed by the hundreds of people escaping from the thirteen floors below. Everyone was shouting for the person in front to hurry. There was more pushing, even on the dangerously narrow iron stairs. Manny clutched the side railings tightly. The air, the noise and the excitement, combined with the booze, made him so dizzy he could barely see.

  When the line came to a complete halt because someone on one of the floors below was injured, many people became undone. Melinda was struck in the back of the head. She fought with the woman behind her, struggling to keep from tripping. As a result, she fell back against Manny. The added weight came as a total surprise and he lost his grip on the railing. He fell against Flo and then slipped off the side of the stairway. For a few seconds he just dangled there, not quite sure of where he was. Flo screamed and pulled on his arm. It caused him to lose his grip entirely. She couldn’t hold his weight and he fell. She watched his body crash into the ground below, and fainted. The man in front lifted her and the line continued its descent.

  Charlotte awoke with a cough. The room was so filled with smoke that her eyes immediately began to tear. She sat up in the bed. She was barefoot and when she stood up, the heat from the floor was so intense she was forced to fall back on the bed. She picked up the phone to call the operator for help, but the line had long been disconnected. Frightened, she searched for her shoes, put them on, and then took the pillowcase off the pillow. Covering her face
with it, she made her way to the door.

  In the back of her mind was the vague hope that this was all a dream. In a moment she would awaken and the smoke would be gone. Where had it come from? What was going on? Why hadn’t anyone told her? The moment her fingers touched the handle of the door, she screamed. Simply looking at it, there was no way she could have known, because it hadn’t changed color. The knob was stovepipe hot, and it seared her hand. She ran to the bathroom to put it under cold water, but the smoke was so thick she had to turn back.

  Trying to avoid panic, she wrapped her other hand in a pillowcase and tried the handle again. Even so, the heat radiated to her fingers, but this time she was able to hold on long enough to turn the knob. The moment the door opened, she knew she was in trouble. The corridor was completely in flames. The wall across from her room was half burned away, the ribs of the hotel structure visible and burning. She was a prisoner. There was no way to escape.

  She slammed the door and backed into the bedroom, holding the pillowcase to her face. Then she knelt by the window to take deep gasps of air. That brought a measure of relief.

  She worked the screen open and leaned out of the window. People were moving in a steady line down the fire escape far to her right. For a few moments she watched with quiet envy. They were on their way to safety. They would live. They would go on to fall in love and get married, to eat their favorite foods, watch their favorite movie stars and kiss, love and sit in the sun. They would have their hair done, buy a new dress, eat an ice cream cone in the shade, read a newspaper in the park. Nothing seemed too small or insignificant now.

  She leaned further out of the window. Did no one down there even see her? Do no one even care? Where was Bruce? Strong, considerate, handsome Bruce. Did he wonder if she was still alive?

  The smoke was getting black and thicker now. The realization of her impending death began to overwhelm her. She lost all control and screamed with all her might. Waving her hands frantically at the guests gathered on the ground below, she tried to get someone’s attention, anyone, but from their vantage point, it was as if she didn’t exist.

  The flames were now starting to leap forward. The smoke was beginning to blind her. She crawled halfway out the window. It was a futile act. Her mind told her this, but she pushed the thought aside. She held on to the window frame and dangled for a moment.

  “Mama,” she cried. “Mama, mama.”

  She had the vision of her mother’s face, smiling, gentle, the face that had comforted her whenever she was in need. The face she would never see again.

  The smoke and fire began to surround her. It was as though they had predetermined their purpose, singled her out. She tried to inhale but couldn’t. The pain throbbing in her burned hand forced her to loosen her grip. Her fingers ached and cramped.

  Ironically, when she began to fall, she had a momentary sensation of being secure. It was as though God himself held her in his palm. Then she descended into the darkness, mercifully fainting before impact.

  Fire departments in the Catskill resort area consisted of volunteer companies made up of ordinary citizens. Because of the magnitude of the blaze at the Congress and the hotel’s central location in the county, practically every hamlet and village sent a truck. They were of little use once they arrived. The fire raged out of control, and about all they could do was extinguish the flames that spread with the falling chunks of the building and concentrate on getting the guests and staff as far away from the collapsing building as possible.

  The lawns and surrounding grounds were strewn with debris and with people, over a thousand of them. Many had minor injuries—burns, cuts and smoke inhalation. Others were seriously hurt, half a dozen succumbing to heart attacks. Everywhere people were in shock. Children who had been separated from their parents on the fire escape were tearfully reunited on the ground. Husbands, wives, grandparents clung to each other with an enthusiasm borne of the need to confirm survival. As they looked back at the seventeen-story building, now totally lit up, the flames tearing at the very stars, they shook their heads in gratitude and wonder that they had escaped and were still alive. A good number of their friends hadn’t been that lucky.

  Ambulances began arriving on the scene. Police cars were all over the grounds. A mayday call had gone out to every doctor in the county. Interns, public health nurses, first aide squads, all circulated among the people, picking out the most seriously injured. The scene took on characteristics of a war zone after battle.

  Bruce and Sid were everywhere, comforting and treating people, locating the ones who needed immediate transport to the hospital. The fire itself had reached such proportions that it drove back the night. A communal spirit, sad though it was, began to develop. People were helping one another, calming one another, becoming friends.

  Magda and Ellen did whatever they could. They guided people away from the dangerous areas, brought what linen and toweling they could from the farmhouse, and assisted the doctors whenever they were asked. Sandi stood on the steps of the farmhouse and watched, trembling with the memory of what had happened inside the hotel.

  Sam and Blanche Teitelbaum sat dejectedly on one of the lawn benches. Both had blankets wrapped around their shoulders. All who were safe now and quiet shared the same expression—stunned, shocked, anesthetized. They stared with empty eyes. Overwhelmed by all the misery, they retreated deeper into themselves.

  Some people wandered around aimlessly, moving out of some reflexive need. It was as though they feared stopping would permit the fire to catch up with them. Those who had fled successfully out of the nightclub located themselves furthest away from the hotel. Dressed in their fine evening clothes, they looked like amateur actors staging a scene from the theatre of the absurd. They huddled together, bonded by the horrible experience. Now they were all telling one another what they had seen, when they had seen it and what they had done.

  Not so the people who had been at Melinda’s party. They fled from one another the first chance they got. Each had been totally concerned with his own welfare, and now it was difficult to face someone pushed aside in flight. Melinda stood alone. She held a blanket that had been handed to her since she lost half her clothing in the melee. As she watched the crowds moving around, the people being treated and stroked, she began to wonder about Grant. Her first vague thoughts were he must be safe; he was so damn independent, wiry and sly.

  “Hey,” she called and stepped forward to pull the arm of a first-aide squad member who was treating the burns on a man’s leg. “Hey.” He stopped what he was doing and looked up. “I can’t find my son. Is there someplace special for kids?”

  “I don’t think so, ma’am. We’re setting up a headquarters over by that trailer.” He pointed to a small mobile trailer that had been sent over from the hospital. “Try that.” She followed in the direction he pointed.

  Flo Goldberg, now unconscious and covered by a blanket, lay on a stretcher awaiting an ambulance. Rescuers had been unable to retrieve Manny’s body since it was so close to the burning building. Large portions of the structure had collapsed around it and by now it was no longer visible.

  The Sheriff pulled Ellen away from the guests and led her to the command post. He had actually done her a great favor. She was very near total exhaustion—her hair falling dishevelled around her tear-stained face, her clothing smeared with blood, her body slumped with depression and fatigue. Chiefs of the various fire departments quickly joined them.

  “We’ve got to get some kind of body count as soon as possible,” he said. “Do you have any idea how many guests …”

  “My reservations director, Netta …”

  “I just saw her,” the Sheriff said. He started away.

  “She’ll have an exact number.”

  “As soon as my sound trucks are set up, we’ll begin announcing the names of those we’ve been told are missing. Maybe they’re just lost in the crowd and will come forward. As for the others … Do you have someone who can run down the list of sta
ff?”

  She thought a moment. It seemed a gigantic task just to recollect names she had known for years.

  “My department heads. They’ll be able to help you. Call for them.”

  He nodded.

  “You’d better get yourself a little rest, Mrs. Golden. No sense your collapsing on us now. We’re going to need your help as soon as we get this under control.”

  “But the people who are injured … there are so many …”

  “Volunteers are coming in from all over. They’ll help.”

  “I can’t leave,” she said. “Got to get back …” She thought about walking away but couldn’t. She looked back at the fire chief. He tilted his head slightly because she had such a strangely helpless expression on her face. Then she passed out.

  Nick Martin hovered in the shadows some distance from the building. The immensity of the fire was awe-inspiring. To think he had done that in less than a minute and as a result, all his problems were solved. “So long, Jonathan Lawrence,” he mumbled. “You creep.” A fire truck screamed behind him as it turned into the Congress main gate. Police on the adjacent highway were forcing traffic to bypass the scene. Security was just about nonexistent. Every hand available was needed inside the grounds.

  He lit a cigarette and watched a cop on the road directing the traffic in and out. No one seemed to be stopped from entering or leaving the hotel. His stomach churned in anticipation of his escape. Arrogantly confident, he had gone into the bar, ordered his drink, and left before the pandemonium started. Now the taste of the alcohol was coming back to him. He attributed it to all the excitement. Then he felt himself flush. Was it from nerves, he wondered. Ridiculous. He was much too cool for that. But he might as well get started.

  He flipped his cigarette into the grass and approached the main gate. The cop on the road below had his back to him, waving at approaching vehicles. Nick moved quickly off the hotel property, crossed the street, and began walking up the road. The first thing he saw was a traffic cop stationed at the far end, blocking the entrance of any unauthorized vehicles.