“Dom! Izzy! There’s a fire!”
When I see a light come on in their bedroom window, I set off running through the woods, still barefoot and dressed in my jammies. After four rings the 911 operator answers.
“911 operator, do you have an emergency?”
“My house is on fire!” I yell into the phone. I rattle off the address and then add, “I don’t know if there’s anyone inside or not. Please hurry!”
My foot catches on a tree root and I go sprawling headlong onto the ground. The phone flies from my hand and I’m momentarily stunned as all the wind is knocked out of me. By the time I pick myself up I can’t see the phone anywhere, so I leave it behind and continue my run.
By the time Hoover and I reach the house, there are flames licking out broken front windows and running up the side of the house to the roof on the side closest to me. I skirt them and dash over to the garage, peering inside the window.
David’s car is there, which means he most likely is, too. I holler out his name several times but the only thing I hear back is the snap-crackle of the fire. There is steamy smoke coming off the wooden front door so I avoid it and dash around to the back of the house, Hoover at my heels barking out the alarm. Scrambling up the deck stairs, I glance in the kitchen window and see that this part of the house is untouched, though I can see the orange glow of the fire down the hallway. I try the back door, but it’s locked and I curse the fact that I didn’t think to bring my key. I still have one even though I haven’t used it since I moved out, and I debate running back to the cottage to get it. But even as I consider this, the orange glow grows brighter, taunting me, and making me realize that time is of the utmost importance. The front stairs are probably inaccessible already, but there are back stairs off the kitchen and so far the fire hasn’t reached this part of the house. By the time I can run back and get my key, it may be too late.
Given the hour and the fact that the house is darkened, I assume David is sleeping. After years of pulling on-call duty he tends to be a very light sleeper, and the fact that he isn’t already awake and out of the house makes me wonder if he’s taken one of the sleeping pills he uses on his off days to help him sleep better. Unfortunately, they also make it harder for him to wake up. If he isn’t already unconscious from smoke inhalation, he soon will be.
Several thoughts race through my mind. Though the fire station isn’t that far away, I can’t hear any sirens approaching yet; our fire department is all volunteers, and the firefighters answer the night calls from their homes, slightly lengthening their response time. I pray the 911 operator got all the info I gave her before I lost the phone, but what if she didn’t?
I envision myself standing by watching as the house burns, knowing David is inside, knowing I might mean the difference between life and death for him. Could I live with myself if he died because I didn’t try to save him? I shake my head, answering my own mental question.
Desperate, I look around for something to use to break a window. I remember seeing a snow shovel on the front porch and head back that way to grab it, but as I’m running down the far side of the house, something catches my eye and I stop. One of the basement windows has been broken out. I bend down and peer inside and Hoover does the same. The basement is dark, dry, and free of both smoke and flame.
I drop down onto my stomach on the ground and stick my feet through the small window opening, wiggling backward until my butt hits the frame. I push back a little harder and feel a stinging sensation on my left hip as my butt goes through the opening, but I hit another stopgap when I get to my chest. After reaching down and shifting my boobs around a bit, I contort myself first one way, then another, but to no avail. For a few horrifying seconds I think I’m stuck in the opening but after several more desperate grunts and squirms, I manage to push through and drop down onto the basement floor.
I pick myself up and spare a glance at Hoover, who is outside the window looking in at me. After telling him to stay, I head for the basement stairs, pausing at the top to put my hand to the wood to feel for heat. The door to the basement is in the hallway near the kitchen and away from the main fire, and though it feels faintly warm, it’s not dangerously so. I slowly ease it open.
Though the basement air wasn’t bad, as soon as I get to the main floor, I’m assaulted by roiling clouds of thick black smoke that make it hard to breathe and nearly impossible to see. I’m having second thoughts, thinking David will just have to wait for the fire trucks to arrive when Hoover darts past me, barking like a fool and headed for the back stairs.
“Hoover, no!” I yell, but his barking rapidly grows more distant and I can tell he’s on a mission. I hunker down to minimize my smoke exposure and feel my way along the wall to the stairs. The flames are frighteningly close but the fire hasn’t reached the stairwell yet so I grab ahold of the railing and start pulling myself up. I hold my breath for as long as I can and by the time I reach the top, I’m feeling light-headed. When I’m finally forced to suck in a breath, it makes me cough so hard I see stars and nearly pass out.
Off in the distance I hear sirens, and once again I have second thoughts. But over the roar of the flames I hear Hoover barking a short way ahead of me and know I have to go on. With my eyes burning and watering, I guide myself along the rail in the upstairs foyer and into the bedroom. I can’t see the bed, but I fling myself across the room to where I know it to be and fall on it. I can feel David’s legs beneath me and I pull myself up along his body toward his head.
“David? David! Come on! We need to get out of here!”
Hoover is beside the bed barking his agreement.
David doesn’t move or respond and I feel my heart seize up in agony, wondering if I’m too late and he’s already dead. Summoning every bit of strength I have, I leap off the bed, grab David’s feet, and pull.
He isn’t a small man by any means and because he works out regularly, his body is a dense mass of heavy muscle. Grunting, groaning, and trying not to pass out, I manage to drag him off the bed. His head hits the floor with a frightening thunk but I have no time to worry about that now. I move up to his head, wrap my arms under his with my hands laced together over his chest, and pull with everything I have.
Inch by inch I drag him across the room, into the hallway, and to the top of the stairs. Hoover gets into the act by grabbing the sleeve of David’s pajama top with his teeth and pulling along with me. When I look toward the bottom of the stairs I don’t see any flames so I turn around and start backing down, dragging David with me. My breathing is so strained I sound like an accordion. Twice I nearly fall over backward and then, halfway down, blackness begins to close in on me. Frantic, I double my efforts and try to pull harder. It proves to be a fatal mistake because this time I do lose my balance. As I feel myself fall I tighten my grip on David and hang on for both our lives.
My last sentient thought is how ironic it would be for David and me to be joined in death even though we are no longer joined in life.
Chapter 23
“Mattie? Can you hear me? Mattie?”
Though the voice is soothing to my ears, I panic, struggling to get my breath. I feel as if I’m swimming up to the surface from some great depth and I’m not going to make it before my air runs out. Then I gasp as memories of the fire flood my mind.
Oh, no, David!
I try to say his name but my throat is dry and raw and I can’t seem to get any sound out. There is a bright light behind my closed eyelids, and for a second I think that maybe I’m dead and I’ve somehow managed to luck out and end up in heaven despite the fact that I never go to church and have committed a host of sins over the years. I mentally thank God for her magnanimity and kindness in letting me spend eternity with Hurley, for I recognize that it’s his voice calling my name.