He walked to his and Sarah's room and saw she was in the connected bathroom. "You know what Angie asked me?" he asked Sarah, pulling off his t-shirt.
"What?" she mumbled through toothpaste and a toothbrush.
"She asked if we could have pizza for dinner tomorrow."
"Oh yea?" she said. She paused to spit into the sink. "What did you say?"
"That all the pizza places have closed. That sure sounds good though, doesn't it?"
"It really does," his wife agreed. "Remember that time we stayed up all night eating pizza and watching the Friday the 13th marathon on TV?"
"Yea," he smiled. "That was great. That was the night that I realized I was going to ask you to marry me."
"Really?" she said. "You never told me that."
"I couldn't believe how lucky I was to find someone so cool and beautiful at the same time."
She blushed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks. So you really think this guy knows what he's talking about?"
"I hope so. I just don't know what else to do, if he doesn't."
"Well," she sighed. "Let's just hope for the best then." They crawled into bed, snuggled close, and fell asleep.
Chris woke to the sight of flames climbing the drapes, and their curled tongues were licking at the ceiling. Though it was the middle of the night, he could see clearly thanks to the orange-red glow illuminating the bedroom. "Sarah, wake up!" he yelled, shoving his wife. "There's a fire!"
"Hrrmmph?" she said, rolling over with squinted eyes. Realization spread across her face and she jumped out of bed, her nightgown bunched up at the thighs. "We have to get the kids!"
"Stay low," he said. "Make sure not to breathe the smoke!" He bent low at the waist to demonstrate what he meant. She nodded and imitated his posture. He moved to the door and gripped the door handle with his right hand. He quickly withdrew his hand. "Damn," he hissed. He shook the hand in an attempt to ease the searing pain, looked at it, and frowned at the red circle burned into his palm. "Grab some clothes."
She quickly scooped up yesterday's clothes from the floor and he did the same. He covered the doorknob with a leg from the pants he'd grabbed and turned it. That was stupid of me, he thought. I can't believe I didn't think about the doorknob being hot. Shut up, he told himself. There's no time to dwell. We have to get the kids and get out of here.
He stepped into the hallway and looked left toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. It loomed in the distance like a wood-burning stove filled with flames. Black marks adorned the walls like racing stripes, streaking down the full length of the hallway. The glass panes of family pictures lining the walls had cracked, and the frames were warped and twisted into disproportionate shapes.
"Hurry, Chris," Sarah whined. Her hand nudged his lower back.
"I'll get C.J. and you get Angie," he said. "Meet me out front. If you beat me to the front door, then make sure you check the door knob for heat by putting the back of your hand near it without touching it. Cover it with something to turn the knob if it's hot. It looks clear that way, but make sure to check to be sure."
"I will," she acknowledged.
Chris jogged as quickly as he could from his bent over position and hugged the wall tightly. When he reached the next door in the hallway he checked the doorknob for heat as he had instructed Sarah. It's cold, he thought, and opened the door with his left hand. He cradled his right hand to his stomach within the pile of clothes. He rushed to his son's sleeping form and shook him. "C.J., get up buddy, we have to get outside."
"Huh, Dad? What's going on?" he said, rubbing his eyes with one hand. C.J. blinked in an attempt to clear the sleep from his eyes.
"Come on, no time to explain. We'll talk in a minute, just get up and get outside."
"Okay," he said. He slowly sat up on the bed and threw off the blankets.
"I mean it. Hurry, now!" Chris grabbed the clothes hamper from the corner of the room, removed the baseball glove from C.J.'s hand, and threw it inside. He grabbed a pair of shoes from the floor and threw them in as well. He used the hamper to push his son out of the bedroom and into the hallway.
C.J.'s eyes widened. Harsh smoke filled his lungs and he coughed. "Is there a fire?" he asked between coughs.
The front door swayed back and forth from an outside breeze. Good, Chris thought. I bet Sarah ran outside with Angie in her arms. He placed the hamper down and knelt face-to-face with C.J. "Run out the front door and find your mom. I'll be there in just a second."
"Okay, Dad," he said, forcing his voice to remain steady with false bravado. Fear gripped him and he didn't want to leave his father's side, but the look on his father's face prevented any hope of argument. He turned and ran toward the front door as instructed.
Chris dove into Angie's room and found her clothes hamper. He dumped its contents into the one he already had. He turned to leave the room, but he quickly changed his mind and doubled back to her bed. A baby doll lay near the foot of the bed, which he snatched and also threw in the hamper. With a quick shove to secure the hamper's contents, he turned and ran toward the front of the house with the hamper in tow. A pile of shoes nearly tripped him in the living room, where they tended to take them off as they entered. He set the hamper down, bear-hugged as many of the shoes as he could, and threw them into the hamper.
Though he knew he might not be able to spare the time, Chris couldn't stop himself from turning to see the progress of the fire. The flames had passed both the bedroom he and Sarah shared as well as C.J.'s. They inched around the corner of the hallway toward Angie's bedroom, anxious to feed on its interior. The steadily lowering ceiling of smoke burned his eyes and throat. He lowered himself to the floor, tipped the hamper on its side, and crawled his way to the kitchen on his stomach. With his remaining good hand he dragged the hamper forward as he made his way. He opened the cupboards at floor level and swept the contents into the hamper. Canned goods rattled against each other, and several glass jars clanked together dangerously, but in the end everything came to rest without shattering. The heavy containers forced the lighter contents underneath to the bottom in a solid clump.
Better than nothing, he thought. He began his journey back to the front door with the hamper full of clothes, shoes, and non-perishables via army crawl. Flames jumped from the couch and snarled toward him. The hair at the base of his skull and the nape of his neck singed from the heat. Smoke rolled overhead and billowed its way through the open door.
Slowly, but surely, he made his way through the furniture maze and crossed the threshold into the night. The cool air filled his lungs and burned as it bore witness to the damage the heat and smoke had done. Chris hacked black wads of mucus and forced himself to spit until he could no longer taste the soot. Once he reached the brick steps leading to the walkway separating their house from the sidewalk, he forced himself to stand upright. He gripped the handle of the hamper in his good left hand and descended each step slowly; the hamper made a loud plastic thunk as it fell from step to step. Sarah ran to him in tears and Angie cried from exhaustion, fright, and surely a myriad other reasons on her shoulder. He left the hamper standing on its own somewhere in the middle of the walkway, and they made their way to join C.J., who stood alone on the sidewalk.
I can't believe this, Chris thought. Everything we own, everything important to us, and every memory we've ever made is gone. It's all gone. The cold breeze raised goose bumps on his skin and swirled its cold tendrils around his legs. What are we going to do?
CHAPTER THREE
"Shh, shh, it's going to be okay, sweetie," Sarah said, patting Angie's back as she sobbed quietly against her shoulder. She paced back and forth on the sidewalk with bare feet. The neighbors were outside now, and a large crowd had gathered across the street to watch the newly arrived firemen put out the blaze.
Chris sat in the rear of an ambulance while a paramedic treated the burn on his right hand. He watched disconnectedly as the firemen worked, pulling long hoses into the yard and spraying a thick b
lanket of water onto and into the house. Even if the fire doesn't destroy everything, the water should take care of the rest, he thought. He tried to remind himself that at least everyone was okay, nobody had been injured excluding himself, but it was still depressing. Sometimes it was just hard to see the bigger picture.
Sarah talked with one of the firemen carrying a bull-horn and nodded occasionally in response. Angie had fallen back to sleep in the midst of her cries; Sarah had formed a makeshift blanket for her from clothes in the hamper. Chris wasn't sure how she could sleep amongst all of the noise from the fire engine and the people talking, not to mention just the general knowledge of what had happened, but he was glad that she was able to. C.J. sat on the curb, his head cupped in his hands, and watched the firemen.
The burn on Chris's hand no longer hurt, probably due to the topical anesthetic the medic had mentioned was contained in the burn cream. The medic finished by wrapping Chris's hand in a roll of white bandage. It wrapped around the hand, all the way up to his wrist, and was secured with medical tape. “There you go, that should help,” the medic said. “Just make sure to wrap it in new bandages if you take a shower or if it gets wet in any other way. Here's a roll of bandages. You can just cut off a new section when you need it, and here is a roll of medical tape to secure it. It shouldn't be loose but not too tight either. You don't want to cut off the circulation.” He handed Chris the bandage roll and medical tape, and Chris placed them in his pocket.
“Thanks. It feels much better.” Chris stepped down from the back of the ambulance and walked out to the middle of the street.
"Do you have somewhere to stay tonight, sir?" someone asked Chris. He didn't notice the voice at first; he was still lost in the despair of his own thoughts and watching the house burn. A hand gripped his shoulder, forcing him from his reverie, and he turned to see the owner. "Sir? I asked if your family has somewhere to stay tonight." It was the man that had been talking to Sarah a few minutes ago, the one who appeared to be in charge.
My parents have passed, Sarah's parents have passed, she's an only child, and I haven't seen my brother since I was nineteen. Hey Bro, good to see you, mind if my entire family moves in with you, wherever you might live? No, he thought. We don't have anywhere to stay. He sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of yesterday's jeans that he'd rescued from the hamper. His right hand complained as the bandage caught on the hem of his pocket. The knuckles of his left hand rubbed against something, and he opened the hand to grip the paper he'd received from Brent. An inkling of hope rose in his mind. "Maybe we do," he replied.
"Okay," the fireman said. "Do you need to use a phone? I can send someone to check with your neighbors to see if any of them have one still functioning that you could use."
Chris pulled the paper from his pocket and looked at the address. That would be three blocks east and one block north. That's not bad walking distance. Thank God, for small miracles, he thought. Brent would probably think it's weird if we just walked over there though, but once I explain that our house burned down I'm sure he'd understand. He seemed like a pleasant, maybe overly pleasant, type of person. "No. We can walk there. Thank you, though."
"Suit yourself. Here's a card with my name, number, and the fire station address," he said, and handed Chris a faded manila business card. Rob Stanson, Chris read, Fire Chief. "I know this is a difficult time, so contact me in the next few days and we'll help you try to salvage what you can from your home. You know," he paused, clearing his throat, and his mustache danced distractedly above his upper lip. "You know that, unfortunately, home insurance has fallen through, and won't cover any of the damage, right?"
"You want to hear something ironic?" Chris chuckled. "I used to work in insurance. I know it's a total loss." The cold crawled up from the concrete through his legs and into his chest. Chris shivered.
Rob shook his head and sighed. "I'm very sorry, sir. I know this must be a horrible thing to go through."
"What can you do?" Chris noted the sympathy in a shrug. "Thanks," Chris said, holding up the card. He turned and walked to join Sarah.
"So, what's the plan?" she asked, and her tear streaked cheeks were a tell-tale sign of her recent crying. Angie still lay sleeping on her shoulder, and C.J. still sat on the sidewalk with his legs crossed; clothes were draped over his shoulders now, too, and he continued watching the firemen attempt to put out the flames.
"We have to find a place to stay tonight," Chris said. "I was thinking we'd walk over to the address Brent gave me and see if we could stay there."
"We don't even KNOW him!" his wife said, suddenly enraged. "You're going to trust him around our kids?"
"I don't know that we have any other choice, Sarah," Chris said. "It's not like we can call up any of our old friends and ask to drop in. We knew we wouldn't have any friends here when we decided to move to Aurora."
"I know, but I didn't know that it would be like this," she said, waving her arm. "We had a car back then. We could do what we wanted and go where we wanted."
Chris sighed. They'd both been so excited when he had received the job offer. As an actuary, they would pay him to work and pay him to take time off from work to study for the required exams to further his career. They'd gone to dinner the night he'd accepted the offer, and it was one of the few times in his life that he could remember ordering an appetizer and a dessert in the same meal. "I didn't know either, of course."
"Fine,” she relented. “Where do we have to go?"
"The address is 18131 E. Hampden Avenue. It's about four blocks from here. I'll carry the hamper, you carry Angie, and Chris can hold your hand. Will that work?"
“Okay.” She frowned, blatantly unhappy with their choices, or lack thereof. Her silence demonstrated the realization that there really wasn't any other choice.
Chris picked up the white plastic hamper in a hug and pulled it tightly to his stomach. Together they walked down the sidewalk while the large group that had gathered across the street watched and murmured amongst themselves. That's right, you bunch of jerks, Chris thought. Enjoy being on that side of things. We all have to go through trials and tribulations at one time or another, so just keep on gawking.
"Turn left up here," Chris said. "We'll go north first." The last thing I want is to keep staring at everything we own burning for three blocks, he thought. At least once we're in some different neighborhoods things should be quiet. Unless someone tries to rob us, his inner voice argued. Another shiver crawled the length of Chris's spine. I should have asked for the fire department or police to escort us. I can't believe I didn't ask. This is exactly how people get robbed or killed. Stop focusing on that, just get everyone moving fast and get out of here, he told himself. "Let's go a little faster. I know it's cold and we're tired, but the sooner we get there, the sooner we can rest."
Sarah didn't argue and picked up speed. Even C.J. walked faster without complaint. Their breath made plumes of rising hot air, and they walked in near darkness. The power was still out, as it usually was, so the streetlights remained unlit. Chris scanned between houses as best he could, constantly on guard for potential threats. The night remained quiet, however, save for a lone dog barking somewhere in the distance.
"This is it." The numbers had faded above the garage but were still readable, and the address matched that of the paper. Chris led his family to the front porch and lowered the hamper. Steeling himself, he opened the storm door and knocked. The silence was unbroken, save for Chris's heart beating loudly in his chest and the sound of his own blood rushing to his head. He knocked again.
A face appeared in the window adjoining the door. "Yes?" the face called.
"Brent? It's Chris. We met earlier today at the church?"
"Yes, I can see that, Chris," Brent said. "Why are you here at two in the morning? And why did you bring me your laundry?"
Chris couldn't help but smile at how ridiculous they must look. "My family and I need a place to stay for the night. I was hoping, I mean, that you wou
ldn't mind, if we stayed here? We don't really have anywhere else to go."
“Where do you usually go at this time of night?”
Chris sighed. “Usually we'd be asleep in bed at home. Our house burned down tonight.”
Brent stayed in the window a moment longer and then disappeared. The front door creaked open. "You, your kids, and your wife aren't secretly members of the Loborians, are you? Do they have some kind of rule, like the cops, where if you ask them they have to tell you? If you're going to sacrifice me to the sentinels, then you'll be quite disappointed I'm afraid. You may actually lose points with them."
"No," Chris chuckled. "We definitely are not Loborians."
"Good, hurry up then. You're letting all of the cold air in." The flame of the candle in Brent's hand wavered in emphatic agreement. He stepped back and opened the door wider.
Stepping into the house, the first thing Chris noticed was a nearby wooden table covered in books. It was too dark to read the titles, but he could make out sticky notes and bookmarks decorating the majority. He must be a bachelor, Chris thought. This place could definitely use a woman's touch.
"I'm sorry we had to just show up like this," Chris said. "I noticed that you lived so close, and we don't own a car anymore, so I hoped you wouldn't mind too much."
"Oh my goodness, I don't mind at all. That's a terrible ordeal to go through. I'm very sorry for your loss. Do you know what happened?"
"No. The Fire Chief said it could take a couple of days before they can investigate," Chris sighed.
"Man, I don't know what to say," Brent said, and they stood in silence. "There's only one guest bedroom, I'm afraid," Brent continued, closing the front door and securing the deadbolt. "So you'll have to share. I do have some sleeping bags that could be thrown on the floor, if that'd help?"
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