Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
The scent of smoke wakes me.
I’m confused, sitting up and dimly grasping to reconcile the darkness of my room with that pungent and unmistakable smell. Is Sabrina cooking before the sun comes up? Fumbling around for my phone, I locate it under my pillow.
2:47 a.m. Sabrina is burning something in the middle of the night?
Tossing off my sheets, I plant my feet on the floor. Each second I’m awake brings me closer to full consciousness. The smoke does not smell like burning food. More like a campfire. And…plastic? Also, Sabrina does not cook.
Oh my God. Ohmygodohmygod.
What do I do?
Help .
I grab my phone, frantically dialing 9-1-1.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“I think my house is on fire,” I choke out the words. My hands shake, my heart pounds. “I smell smoke.”
The operator asks for my address, name, and number, and I blurt it out as fast as I can make my lips move.
“Are you alone in the house?”
Her calm tone does not match the way my heart batters my breast bone. I open my mouth to tell her about my roommate, but it hits me that Sabrina isn’t here. She stayed the night at her boyfriend’s house.
“I’m alone.”
“Does your room have a window you can climb from safely?”
“I’m on the second floor. First door on the right.”
“Get on the ground and stay there. Do not open any doors or windows. The fire department is on the way.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, dropping to my knees and sitting back on my heels. “Will you stay on the phone with me?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says reassuringly.
“I don’t have on a bra.” I look down at my pajama top as I lower my face to the ground. It’s flimsy, but at least it’s not white. Why is that what comes to mind right now? Shouldn’t there be more important thoughts, like what valuables I should save from the fire? Except I’ve been told to get down and stay down, and I’m not about to break rules now.
The operator doesn’t laugh. Maybe it’s not funny. Or maybe she’s not supposed to laugh. I’m not sure. She says, “I don’t sleep with my bra on either.”
“My grandma always said to make sure I leave the house in matching bra and underwear in case I get in an accident and they have to cut my clothes off me, and I never do that.” I’m whispering for no reason except that I’m terrified, and bent at the waist with my nose against the carpet.
“I don’t know many people who do.” There’s that steady voice again, rock solid, a life preserver.
Sirens pierce the smoky air. “I hear them.” Hope tinges my tone.
“Stay put,” she reminds me. “Let them come to you.”
I nod, knowing she can’t see me, but my ability to speak has disappeared. There are noises outside, sirens and horns and yelling, and my fingers shake as the heavy reality of the situation sinks in.
“Help is there, and I’m right here,” the operator says. I cling to her smooth calmness.
What if she is the last voice I hear? The thought is a knife to my stomach. My eyes wrench open, my head whips around the room. Suddenly I want something. Anything. I want to hold something I love.
Leaving my phone behind on the ground, I crawl to my nightstand. Inside are two photos of me, my sister, and my mother. I choose the one where we’re smiling. If I have to save something, it won’t be the photo that makes me sad.
My purse. It’s here too, lying on top of my nightstand where I dropped it last night when I came home. I lift an arm and find it quickly, the feel of the metal chain strap unmistakable.
Tucking the photo in my purse and ducking my head through the strap, I wind it across my body, then crawl back to my phone and place it inside. I keep my head down, like the operator said, and I don’t lift it again until my door opens. Black boots and yellow pants fill my vision. Smoke billows into my room, burning my eyes.
“I’ve got you,” a voice says, a man I think, and his arms wrap around my body. Hope and relief surge through me as he lifts, draping me over his upper back. He steps through my bedroom door, and even though the danger is still present, it all feels like it will be behind me soon.
Another firefighter meets us halfway up the stairs. “The fire is at the back of the house,” he yells. “But the wind shifted, and it’s coming this way.”
With my thighs and arms pinned to the firefighter’s body, he hurries down the stairs.
From my upside down position, I see it. Fire. It is not mesmerizing or beautiful or any of the nice things I thought about fire before now. It’s a monster, eating its way through my home, swallowing the kitchen and licking at the dining room walls.
The firefighter exits the front door, sideways first and then turning to face the street. He clears the house, hurrying down the narrow path that bisects the front yard.
Applause. Cheering. Shouting.
Police officers. Blue and red lights flashing on the top of an ambulance. A crowd of pajama-clad neighbors.
He sets me on my feet, but I buckle. He catches me. My eyes burn as I try to orient myself, tearing though I don’t think I’m crying. Someone takes me from his arms. I lean heavily on them, and then I’m lifted. I’m wheeled away, then lifted again, and now I’m in the back of an ambulance.
An oxygen mask goes over my nose. I am examined. A flashlight shines in my eyes. My pulse is checked. Questions lobbed at me. I do my best to answer them.
An EMT grips both doors, moving to close them. My arm shoots out, my other hand sliding the oxygen mask from my mouth.
“I’m fine,” I croak. It’s the first time I’ve spoken since I was on the phone with the operator. My phone, tucked safely in the purse fastened around my body. But all my other belongings. Oh God.
Beside me, the EMT who examined me speaks. “You’ve experienced a lot of smoke inhalation. We’re going to get you checked out by a doctor.” She nods at the man standing outside, next to the open doors of the ambulance. A second person stands beside him.
The firefighter? My eyes are tearing so badly, I can only see an outline. I cannot tell if he is looking at me. And I have no idea if he’s the man who saved me.
The doors close, and I’m whisked away from the nightmare. Funny thing is, the nightmare is still there, the blaze still burning. The only difference now is that I’m no longer a part of it.