Conflagration

         As Jobie drove through her neighborhood, the sound of sirens grew. The lights she had initially taken for Christmas lights strobed red and blue across the sky, splintering into a thousand icicle lights in the thin December air.

         Todd threw off his seat belt, his face nearly pressed against the windshield, craning to look.

         "What is it?" his mother said, alarmed.

         "It's fire trucks!" he cried. "Someone's house is on fire!"

         He was right; in between the gaps between houses she could see an orange glow, and what she had thought to be cloud cover proved to be a thick pall of sooty smoke.

         "Oh my God.." she breathed.

         "It's on our street!" Todd's voice was strident in her ear.

         A thousand random thoughts crystallized into an urgent desire to get home. Jobie's hands were white on the steering wheel as she navigated the slippery roads. After what seemed an eternity, she turned onto Rockport Drive. The cul de sac was filled with emergency vehicles and a cluster of familiar and unfamiliar faces at a prudent distance from the conflagration. "It's Beeson's!" she gasped.

         Todd's fingers were suddenly on her arm, clawing and spastic. "It's our house!"

         Her foot jerked on the brake and the car slid sideways, making a skittering break for the curb. She cried out, her eyes on the house instead. The impact threw her into the seatbelt harness, hard against her throat. She felt rather than heard Todd's unbelted body strike the passenger door. He gasped and then was out the door, running for the house. She threw the car into park, scrambling fingers freeing herself.

         "Todd!" she screamed, pelting across the street after him. She slipped on the ice, going down hard on one knee. "Todd!“  The pallid faces in the crowd turned to look. He had nearly reached them when his feet flew out from beneath him, landing him hard on his back. He scrambled to get up, fighting the hands that restrained him.

         "No! No!!" he screamed. "Let me go! I have to get Pudge!"

         Jobie had reached him then, throwing her arms around him, feeling his thrashing body struggling against her. The weight of his sturdy body drove them to their knees, where it was easier for her to restrain him. She held onto him with all her might, her eyes glued to the surreal sight of her house, thick dark smoke puffing out the ventilation holes at the roofline, the cracks by the eaves, the top of the garage door. She worked for an insurance adjuster; she knew from experience that her house, her home, was history. Pudge, in his cage in Todd's bedroom, had almost certainly succumbed to smoke inhalation some time ago. She shuddered against her son, thinking of others that had gone in after forgotten pets, and never come back out. Not for a guinea pig.



         The young firefighter's heart pounded. Finally, he had gotten a break. It was about time...he didn't want to spend the rest of his life as a probie. He followed Wendel, trusting his movements in the heavy smoke. They must be in the living room; in the corner a Christmas tree was becoming skeletonized, packages lit like brands beneath it. Where was the kid? He could barely see Wendel ahead of him. Wendel had the TIC.. the thermal imaging camera that would allow them to see through all this damned smoke to find the occupants.

         Man, this was intense! He'd dreamed about this... but here, in the midst of an search and rescue, he was not so sure about the fantasy. This, this was real. Here inside the building, the SCBA seemed heavier and he was acutely aware of the intensity of his own dependence on it. He was glad for the personal alert safety system on the unit, the only way anyone outside would ever know if, God forbid, they ever went down. But that wasn't gonna happen today.

         He moved ahead and bumped into Wendel with some relief. Wendel had found a hallway, and he followed him into a bedroom, hugging the wall for reference. There was no flame here, just the same thick choking smoke. This was definitely the child's room; as he entered the room Brooks stumbled over an object that moved beneath his feet: a skateboard. Posters curled and charred on the walls. He watched as Anakin Skywalker darkened, writhing into brittle ash in the upward convection of superheated air. Overhead, a barely recognizable mobile of spaceship models dripped into plastic ribbons of flame that sheeted onto a twin sized bed. They did a sweep of the room, but found nothing, even in the likely places. He knew from his training that children in fires were inclined to hide, in closets, under beds, but there was no sign of the preteen in this room.

         Brooks felt a disappointment that threatened to become fear. If the boy wasn't in this room, they would have to go deeper. Wendel was waving him on, his motions irritated. The younger man knew that Wendel was frustrated at being saddled with him. Screw Wendel. Everybody was a rookie once... He gritted his teeth and caught up. The heat was becoming overwhelming. Sweat cascaded down the small of his back, and the whole interior of his gear smelled of fear. He swung the flashlight from side to side. Where was the goddamn kid?



         "Mommm!" Todd's voice was an ululating cry. Jobie could hear the thoughts behind it. He turned his face to her shoulder, sagging against her.

         Their things... their clothes, and books, and toys.. The Christmas tree with all the gifts beneath it.

         Large hands were suddenly on her shoulders. She flinched, turning wounded eyes up to the man. He bent to her, his face alien in the large helmet and mask, eyes urgent. "Are you the homeowner?" She stared up at him, unable to formulate a thought beyond the snow soaking through her velvet party dress and the sight of all that she owned in the world becoming ash somewhere beyond the cheery wreath on the door. "Are you the lady that lives here?" he demanded. She nodded, confused. "Is there anyone else in the house?" He shook her shoulder for emphasis, and shocked, comprehension began to dawn for her.

         "No.." she managed. "It's just me and my son.." She pulled Todd closer reflexively. "What happened...?" she began to ask, but he was gone, sprinting as best he could in the heavy yellow gear to their little ranch-style house, shouting into his radio as he went.

         "It's clear! All clear.. I have them!" Several firefighters were working the great hoses, laying down a water curtain between their house and the surrounding homes. The snow around the house was grey with ash and turning to slush on the slippery ground. "Brooks! Wendel! All clear....get out."



         "Oh, shit!" Wendel was moving past him, moving faster than he would believed anyone in full turnout gear could. Brooks looked up to see a sheet of rolling flame moving across the ceiling. "Rollover! Rollover! Get the hell out!"

         Brooks stood frozen for a moment, hypnotized by the lazy pace of the flames. My God, it's beautiful.. The air seemed to shimmer, and the heat was unbearable. Suddenly, his memory shifted into gear. Flashover... The point at which all combustible material in an enclosed space simultaneously ignites. The radio on Brooks' shoulder crackled to life. "All clear.... get out." There was more, but a growing roar drowned it out.

         "Brooks!" The older man grabbed his arm as the world around them burst into flame. Terror overcame rational thought, and he found that running in full turnout gear wasn't nearly as difficult as he'd thought after all. But there were walls where he didn't remember them, and, disoriented, he stumbled through the melting, raging topography of a strange family's house.

         Wendel staggered out the back of the residence, running into the two backup firefighters assigned to assist them. "Brooks.. Is he still in there?"

         Passki, one of the backups, was already on his way in. "Not for long." Already two other backups were in place to assist Passki and Guilder, who were going in for search and rescue. EMTs attempted to coax Wendel into taking aid, but he shoved them off. He stood by, eyes glued to the egress. Where was the kid? He had had his hands on him... and then he was gone.

         "Wendel! Brooks shouted, flailing in the firestorm. "Where the hell are you?" The radio spouted gibberish, but he was past hearing. Oh, God.. this was Hell.. He staggered through the labyrinth, dodging flaming debris that dropped from the ceiling and walls. Finally the corridors opened out into a larger room. There was the bloody Christmas tree... A great, shuddering relief came over him. He was almost out. He could see what looked like the door. There was a sudden belch as the picture window blew, scattering shards of glass several feet, and the roaring became an explosion, and Brooks' world suddenly became a surging ball of fire.

         Passki and Guilder had not made it past the kitchen when the backdraft swept through. They were knocked back, and their team hauled them out, empty handed. Wendel stood petrified, screaming into the radio. "Brooks! Brooks, do you copy?! Brooks!!"



         Jobie and Todd watched, horrified, as all the windows on the front side of the little house blew out, spewing glass across the snow. The watchers gasped as great billows of flame arced out where the glass had been, lighting up the night. The immense heat drove them back half again the distance across the street, and the firefighters surrendered to a surround-and-drown approach, making sure the other houses didn't catch while allowing it to burn itself out, a giant's forgotten birthday candle. The flames roared like something alive, billowing, consuming with ravenous jaws the wreath on the door, the Christmas lights, the siding, and finally the walls and shingles. She stared, transfixed, as it ate the house that had been their home, leaving nothing but the smoking carcass, the loose burnt skin of its roof cascading down around the bare black bones in a shower of sparks. The EMTs drew Todd away to the safety of the ambulance with warm blankets and hot cocoa, but Jobie stood where she was, clutching a blanket around her shoulders while her world dissolved before her like snowflakes in a bonfire.

         In a shorter time than she would have believed possible the fuel was consumed, and the fire-beast receded back into its dormant place, leaving only the detritus of its meal behind. Gradually she became aware of the weight of the eyes of her neighbors upon her. She looked around at all the half-familiar strangers' faces, feeling absolutely empty. There was no one there for her... nothing left. Her eyes swung round to the house again, pulled like a magnet. A cluster of firefighters gathered around one of their own in a tangle of activity and raised voices. She watched with dispassionate eyes.

         "Let me go, goddamn it!" She heard the firefighter cry. "His PASS unit...the beacon... we'll be able to find him." The lower voices of his mates were harder to hear, but she watched him try to pull free of them, watched as two of them subdued him until the tone of his body language changed to sagging defeat. "Oh, you sonsabitches..." he wept. The EMTs moved in and took him back to the ambulance.

         The ambulance... "Todd.." she murmured.

         When Jobie made her way across the street she found that they'd moved him, had him sitting in a warm police car. When he saw her he jumped up, attaching himself to the front of her in a way he hadn't since he was a small child. She felt him shudder against her, and pulled her blanket around the both of them. Standing there, she could see the firefighter being treated with oxygen, still weeping. "Jesus.. Jamey.." he said to the paramedic. "I had my hands on him, and then he was just gone.." He rubbed his eyes with grimy fingers, his face in his hands. "I coulda gone back in if they hadn't stopped me.." A sick feeling spread over her. Someone had died. Someone had died in her house. "We stayed in too long..." She heard him say. "We should have been out...I should have seen it going bad, but we thought there was still a kid in there... By the time we got the all clear, it was rolling over on us. Aaah, Jesus..." he moaned.

         Someone had died in her house, on her account. Searching for them. The world spun away from her, and her extremities were numb. She buried her face in Todd's hair, closing her eyes and pulling the blanket higher. If she just closed her eyes, this would all go away. The insistent hands of the paramedics drew them gently away to another warm and private ambulance where they immobilized her rapidly-ballooning knee and treated both of them for shock on the way to the hospital. They let Todd sit beside the gurney so she could hold his hand, and though he was nearly a teen, he clutched the stuffed panda that someone had produced tightly to him. His eyes, when they met hers, were as dead and flat as she felt inside.