by Lolita Lane
A woman bounced over to Luke and wrapped her arm around his waist, beaming up at him.
“Uh, Sarah, this is Lacey,” he said awkwardly.
“His fiancée,” she chirped, extending a hand. “Luke and Lacey. It’s it cute? They both start with L!”
Sarah took the proffered hand and shook it once, and then quickly withdrew her hand. She needed air… badly.
“Will you excuse me?” she asked, fleeing through the bay door and taking repeated deep breaths in the misty morning air.
Feeling weak and dizzy, she leaned heavily against the station’s red brick wall and continued to breathe deeply. Then she felt sick, and she leaned forward, her hands on her knees.
“You alright?”
Her eyes turned toward Luke. His hazel eyes were filled with concern. Those eyes. The ones that had locked with hers in that bowling alley over twenty years before. The ones she had stared into so many times back then, her heart leaping with pride and adoration. The ones she had never truly forgotten, even when they were floating beyond her vision, bobbing somewhere below the surface of her consciousness.
“No,” she admitted.
“Anything I can do?” he asked.
She shook her head and turned her eyes toward the concrete beneath her feet.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked her.
“Looking for you,” she said quietly, studying a ladybug that skittered along a crack in the concrete.
“Why me?”
“I thought I recognized you,” she told him.
“From where?”
“The fire the other day.”
“Sorry, I’ve been to a lot of fires. Which one?” he asked.
“The wedding.”
“That was you,” he said, suddenly understanding. “I thought I recognized you, too. But… well, frankly you were so covered in crud I couldn’t see anything but those green eyes of yours.”
“Where did the years go?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Up in smoke,” he answered, and she nodded.
She slowly raised herself up and swallowed hard.
“So… you’re engaged?” she said, though it was hardly a question.
“Uh… yeah,” he said. “So are you.”
“I broke it off,” she told him.
“Sorry to hear that. What happened?”
“You did.”
“Me. Why me? What did I do?” he asked.
Her eyes darted around, but not seeing the mousy little fiancée of his, she said, “You showed up.”
“I don’t understand,” he told her.
An alarm began to sound, blaring its shrill scream into the yard. They both jumped.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” he told her, touching her arm lightly with his fingertips. “We’ll talk soon.”
He dashed through the bay doors, and she stood there staring after him for far longer than she knew she should. Her arm still felt his touch lingering on the skin, and her heart was stuck in her throat.
She heard an engine roar to life, and then the whine of a siren. The huge red truck pulled from the bay, and her eyes followed it. She continued to watch it as it disappeared in the distance. Then she got into her car and left.
Chapter Six
She didn’t want to go home. Well, technically she had no home. She was only staying with her grandmother until she could find somewhere else to go. Instead, she drove to a park not far from the station.
She wandered down the trail and stopped by the edge of the little creek that babbled its way through the park, winding its way into the distance like a glittering snake. She felt her dreams were flowing away with it.
Why was life so cruel to her? Her parents had died years earlier while she was off getting her degree. She couldn’t even bring herself to come back to her hometown until a little over a year ago.
She’d met Eric and he’d fallen for her so quickly. It was easy to be swept up in it all. He was a good-looking guy. He was smart, witty, charming. He had his own successful business renting boats to local fishermen. He owned a house on the lake. He should have been the guy of her dreams. But he wasn’t.
Despite his charms, Eric had never held any special place in her heart. Sure, she’d agreed to marry him, but why wouldn’t she? She was in her mid thirties. Maybe he was her last chance at having the family she’d so sorely dreamed of. Since her parents died, her grandmother was the only family she had left. But Eric was just another man in a long string of them that she couldn’t get attached to. He was another one whose heart she’d broken.
The truth was, she’d never been able to forget Luke. There were times she’d go weeks without thinking of him consciously, but not a single day went buy when she didn’t feel his absence gnawing away at her soul, making her feel like an empty, hollow shell of nothingness.
Now, she stood beside the little brook and peered down at her reflection, wondering why life had turned out the way it had. They were just teenagers when they met. She’d been out bowling with a friend, and she happened to glance his way. Their eyes locked, and in that instant, neither of them could turn away. It was as if time stopped.
Before long, they had become inseparable. They were so alike in so many ways, with just enough differences to keep it interesting. He became her first, and indeed only, love. She gave him her innocence, knowing there would never be anyone for her but him.
But then it got all twisted. He cheated on her, not once, not twice, but at least three times over the course of the few months they were together. The third had been up for debate, but she’d personally witnessed the first tow. Again and again, she’d forgiven him. But finally, she had enough. She couldn’t help but feel she wasn’t enough for him. Yet, at the same time, every fiber of her being knew they were meant to be together.
She moved on, or tried to. So did he. But that empty, bitter feeling never left her. She could never truly move on, because he was always there. He haunted her like a gentle ghost, an apparition she couldn’t see, but she could always feel.
And now… now when she’d found him after so many years. Now, when she’d lost everything she knew, and felt more alone than ever. Now… he was marrying someone else.
A chilly breeze scattered colorful autumn leaves around her, and she curled her arms around her, trying to shield herself from the cold.
She remembered the last words he’d said to her at the station. “We’ll talk soon,” he had said.
No, she thought. We won’t.
He was engaged. He belonged to someone else. He’d given his heart to someone else. Though she could never move on from him, he had moved on from her. And now it was too late.
There was nothing left to say. No words could speak his fiancée away. No wishes could dream her away. She was a stark reminder that Sarah was destined to be alone. And so alone she would be.
Chapter Seven
Life went on.
Sarah, who had been freelancing for years, had found a job at the local newspaper. Her goal of becoming a journalist had finally happened. She should have been happy, or at least some semblance of it, but she wasn’t.
The morning started out like any other. She came to work, sat at her desk, and started hammering away at her computer. The article she was writing about the closing of the old bowling alley was especially poignant; another bleak reminder that what had once existed was dead and buried. The place they met was set to be torn down, just like all the hopes she’d felt when she first saw him again.
“Sarah, I… need you!”
She turned toward the door and her boss’s face was white. He clutched the doorknob and struggled to catch his breath.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“You… you have to… get down to the bowling alley…” he said. “Big story! Huge!”
“What…”
“Just get down there!” he shouted.
She jumped to her feet and snatched up her satchel and her overcoat and raced into the parking lot
. Her heart was hammering like a jackhammer. She’d never had a chance to get a real story before! After years of writing freelance articles on the latest diet trends and golf tips for various websites, she was finally writing something with some meat in it!
Sarah could see the smoke from a mile away. It boiled into the air like a great, billowing tower of darkness and filled the sky with haze. As she slowly pulled into the parking lot, she swerved to avoid a panicked dog as it was fleeing from the terror of the flashing lights and screaming sirens.
A great arc of water flowed from a hose toward the blazing inferno. Firefighters and police swarmed the scene, racing frantically about as they fought the massive blaze.
It’s just another fire, she thought. What was so urgent about this?
Remembering her training in journalism school, she scanned the scene for someone who appeared to be in authority. She spotted a fat man with a thick moustache pointing at various locations and barking orders. She approached him.
Reading his name and rank on his jacket, she said, “Captain Avery, I’m Sarah Brewer with the Clarksville Post. Can I get a statement?”
“Does it have to be now?” he bellowed.
“Sorry, Captain, just a quick rundown,” she apologized.
He sighed heavily and shouted over the commotion, “Ok, we got a report about a fire about 9:45 this morning. It was fully involved before we got here. We’re doing our best to contain it, but there’s a chance it could spread to the nearby neighborhood. We’ve started evacuation procedures down Baker Street as a precaution.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Sarah said, scribbling notes on a legal pad that she’d pulled from her satchel.
“Cap’n, the roof just caved!” shouted a breathless firefighter. “We got about five guys trapped in there!”
“The fuck?” the Captain shouted. “What were they doing in there?”
“Old man Frank locked himself in the office,” the firefighter told him. “Said he wasn’t leaving his place even if they tore it down over his head.”
“Who gave the order to go in?” the Captain demanded.
“Lieutenant Carter, sir.”
“I’ll wring his fucking neck!” shouted the Captain, waddling off while screaming obscenities.
Roof collapsed, she scribbled. She glanced at her watch and added 10:13 AM. Five firefighter trap…
Firefighters trapped!
Her heart began to slam against her ribs like a maniac bull raging inside a cage, desperate to flee the deafening crowds at a bullfight.
She felt herself getting faint, and she stumbled backward and rested her hand against a car, which she bumped into and leaned against like a crutch.
Calm down, she told herself. He probably isn’t even working today.
She spotted someone she recognized, and she rushed over to him. He looked down at her from far above.
“Lieutenant! Can you tell me the names of the firefighters who are trapped inside the building?” she asked.
He shook his head and said, “Afraid not. Privacy violation. Families haven’t been notified.”
“Why would the…”
Oh, my god, she thought. They haven’t notified the families that their loved ones didn’t make it out alive.
She clutched her stomach and doubled over, sinking onto her knees on the asphalt. Her face turned red, and she fought to keep from vomiting.
A uniformed officer approached her and said, “Ma’am, are you ok?”
She nodded weakly.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” said the officer. “We have to secure the scene. Are you a reporter?”
“Yeah,” she said, allowing the officer to help her to her feet. “Clarksville Post.”
“You can call Captain Avery or Battalion Chief Brooks later this afternoon for a statement,” said the officer. “But you need to leave, now.”
She turned toward the burning building and more of the roof sank in before her eyes. Fear lodged in her throat and nearly choked off her air. She nodded and backed slowly toward her car as the officer herded her away from the scene.
She bumped into her car and jumped, watching for any sign of life. Any sign that people were being brought out. Any sign of hope. But there was nothing. Nothing but billowing smoke and fluttering ash and massive walls of flames.
The lump of fear had finally left her throat, sliding down into her stomach and knotting there in a sickening blob. She pushed her way through the front door of the Clarksville Post HQ and nodded politely to the receptionist as she passed, too sick to speak.
She collapsed into her chair and allowed her satchel to slump lazily to the floor beside her. Her head swam in a million directions, but she was too numb to focus.
Firefighters trapped!
It was the only thing that burned in her mind. It was like a glowing hot branding iron had seared the thought into her head, and her brain throbbed.
“There you are!” gasped Sarah’s coworker, Donna. “What’d you get? The boss is gonna want to print it today!”
“Not much,” Sarah answered weakly.
“Are you ok? You don’t look so good,” Donna said.
“Yeah, I… I guess so.”
“So what’s the scoop? What did you get?” Donna prodded.
“The owner of the alley barricaded himself in the building. I guess he didn’t want them to tear it down. A group of five firefighters were sent in to get him out, but the roof collapsed. They’re trapped.”
Just saying the words sickened her. She clasped her hand tightly over her mouth to keep from throwing up.
“Holy shit!” Donna gasped. “Have they made contact with them? Are they alive?”
“I don’t know!” Sarah shouted, her eyes welling with tears. “The cops made me leave! I couldn’t find out anything else!”
“Jeez, calm down,” Donna said gently. “You’re taking this awfully hard. You know, we reporters have to distance ourselves from stories. They’re not personal, you know.”
“This one is,” Sarah blurted out before she could stop herself.
“What? What do you mean?”
“Fine, I guess I’ll tell you,” Sarah said. “Remember I told you that a few weeks ago, not long before I got hired, I was getting married and there was a fire?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, there was this firefighter I caught a glimpse of, and I could have sworn I knew him. So I tracked him down. Turns out it was a guy I dated twenty years ago. Actually, it was the guy.”
“The guy? What’s that mean?”
“You know. THE guy. The once-in-a-lifetime, never-get-him-out-of-your-head, head-over-heels, can’t-live-without-him kind of guy.”
“Those exist?”
“They do, and he’s mine.”
“So what’s the problem? Call him up.”
“He’s engaged.”
“Shit,” Donna muttered.
“Not only that, but now I’m afraid… I mean, what if he’s… surely he isn’t…”
“Trapped in there,” Donna said.
Sarah nodded.
“Oh, come on,” Donna said, putting her arm around Sarah’s shoulder. “What are the odds?”
“I can’t shake this feeling, Donna,” Sarah said. “It’s like I know he’s in there. I feel it.”
“You’re just worried,” Donna said. “You haven’t seen the guy in twenty years until recently, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Then don’t panic. He’s not in there,” Donna said.
But Sarah just couldn’t shake the sickening knot of dread that clumped in her stomach. She had to know something.
Chapter Eight
Hours of phone calls, and not one answer. Everywhere she turned was another dead end. Some people didn’t know anything. Others claimed privacy violations. Some even told her outright to get lost. Surely someone had to know something!
“Hello?”
“Is this Battalion Chief Brooks?” Sarah asked.
“It is. Who’s speaking?” came the answer.
“Chief Brooks, this is Sarah Brewer with the Clarksville Post. I’m calling in regards to the fire at the bowling alley this morning. Do you have a moment?”
“I suppose,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping to get a statement from you about what happened, the current status, the possible cause of the fire, and the status of the people who were trapped inside when the roof collapsed.”
“The press isn’t supposed to know about the victims,” said Chief Brooks. “How is it that you know? Who told you?”
“I was there,” she answered.
“Oh,” he said. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag, now. You’ll have to contact the Sheriff’s office regarding the possible cause and the investigation. I can’t answer that. But I can confirm that there were two fatalities and four individuals were airlifted to Hart County Regional Hospital in critical condition.”
Despite the fear that had once again leaped into her throat, she asked, “Is the… blaze contained? And do you have the names of the… victims?”
“The fire is contained and almost out,” he answered. “The neighborhood residents are already back in their homes. And I cannot release the names at this time.”
“Thank you, Chief Brooks,” she said. “Please call me if there’s anything you can add.”
“What was your name again?” he asked her.
“Sarah Brewer,” she answered. “Just call the main office here at the Post and dial extension 214.”
“Got it. 214.”
“Thank you, Chief Brooks.”
She allowed the phone to drop into its cradle and then her head dropped to her desk. She still had no answers, but she had to do her job. She typed up what she’d just learned and fired it off to copyediting.
She tried to busy herself… to keep her mind occupied. She fiddled with research for potential story ideas. Anything to keep her from thinking of Luke’s face. Of that burning building crashing in around him.
She tapped away for nearly an hour at some random story, but at one point she forgot what she was writing about in mid sentence.