Running Home to You (The Running Series) (52 page)

Moving cautiously, smoke swirls hot and acrid above me.  My eyes begin to water and burn.  I blink back the burning tears as I work methodically towards the rear of the house.  When I turn the corner and crawl into the living room, my heart stops.  Through the sliding glass doors and the expanse of windows, I can see that the entire deck is blazing.  Flames are licking the glass everywhere I look.  The entire back of the house is engulfed in flames.  There’s no safe way out through the back.

I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline coursing through my veins or the effects of taking so much cough medicine, but I cannot think clearly.  I turn around and slowly make my way towards the front of the house.  The thick blanket of smoke is getting deeper and deeper with each minute that passes.  My eyes burn as soot chokes my throat.

Visions of being trapped inside a burning inferno play in my mind.  All I can think about is Evan.  At this moment, I’m so glad that he’s safely in Detroit.  If something happens to me, I know he’ll be destroyed, but at least he’ll be alive.  I’m grateful for the safety of all my friends and my most faithful companion Maddy.  To think that one or more of them could be trapped here with me right now tears me apart. 

Shaking the dark torturous thoughts from my mind, I propel myself forward in search of an exit.  The front windows come into view, and my worst nightmare is unfolding in front of my eyes.  I can see scorching flames reaching up from the bushes lining the front of the house, shooting upward into the black sky.  Red and orange light burns brightly out each window. 

I cough and choke as the air around me becomes toxic. I am numb and in shock.  I don’t want yesterday’s good-bye to be my last.  I think hard, trying to recall what my last words to Evan were on the phone, but I can’t recall.  Did I tell him I love him?  God, I hope so.  My dreams are turning to ash right in front of my eyes.

Remarkably, my head begins to clear and I know I have to find a way to keep myself safe until help arrives.  I need a plan.  Quickly, I scurry to the guest bathroom and grab a hand towel.  I turn on the tub faucet and run the towel under the cold water, wetting it completely.  When I hold it up to my face, it effectively blocks out the smoke. 

My cell phone is exactly where I left it in the living room.  When I pick it up to call 9-1-1, it’s dead.  I haven’t charged it in two days.  Fuck!  It’s the only phone in the house.  Evan and I never bothered having a landline installed.  At the time, it seemed pointless.

Then it occurs to me – no one knows I’m here.  When the alarm company can’t reach Evan or me, they will probably call Adam.  They might be calling him this very moment.  He thinks I’m in Detroit with Evan, so he would probably tell them the house is vacant. 

But even if they know I’m here, who knows how long it will take them to arrive.  Our fire company is made up of volunteers.  The firefighters have to drive themselves to the firehouse from all different distances, suit up, and then they can set out with the rescue trucks.

Deciding I have to act quickly to try and save myself, I make my way to the front door.  The front porch is stone and cement.  Even though I can see flames outside the windows, there’s a slight chance the front door is clear.  I reach up and test the knob, then quickly pull away.  It’s hot.  I’m not going to open the door and take a chance of being immediately engulfed by flames.

Maybe I can find a way to break a window and scream for help.  There are no curtains on the windows, just wooden blinds, so breaking the glass won’t set the inside of the house aflame right away. Giving the fire a direct path to the inside of the house is not a good idea.  My options are dwindling.  I have no choice left.

I crawl back to the living room and grab a fire poker from the fireplace.  It’s got a long handle and a sharp pointy end that should be perfect for breaking a window.

With the poker in one hand and my wet towel in the other, I edge my way back to the foyer, determined to fight my way out. 

Unable to stand up because of the smoke above, I attempt to break the window from a crouching position.  I look away, cover my face, and swing wildly.  By some miracle, my first swing connects with the glass and it shatters, sending shards of glass flying in every direction.  I feel something cold and wet dripping down my arm and when I look, I discover a large gash in my arm bleeding profusely.  Thank God it’s just my arm.  It could have been my face or neck.

The smoke begins to billow out the window and when I visually follow its path, I can barely make out what appears to be a pair of headlights in the driveway.  I scream with all my might, hoping beyond all hope that someone is out there and can hear me.  I can’t see clearly and I don’t know if it’s doing any good.

Then it happens.  I hear a voice.  Doubt paralyzes me momentarily.  Is it real or am I hallucinating?  Suddenly, I hear it again, a man’s frantic voice.  “Jette?  Is that you?  Are you in there?”  It’s Adam.

My body is seized in a fit of coughing.  I find a way to choke out a response.  “Yes, Adam, I’m here.  I can’t get out.”  My mind races with thoughts of what Adam might do.  He blames me for his split with Evan.  Could he leave me here, finding this a suitable punishment?

“Okay, listen very carefully.  I’m going to help you, but you have to move quickly.  Can you get a blanket?” he calls back.  Relief immediately rushes through me.

I remember the blanket still lying on the couch just a few feet away from me.  “Yes,” I holler, hoping he can hear me.

“Go get it.  Quickly, Jette.  There isn’t much time.”

I struggle to the couch, grab the blanket, and inch my way back.  Each breath a struggle.  Each step a fight.  I call back, “I got one.  Now what?”

He speaks slowly and carefully.  “Wrap yourself in the blanket as tightly as you can.  Cover your face and your hair.  You’re going to have to open the front door and jump through the flames.”

“No way, Adam.  I can’t do it.”  The thought of what he’s asking terrifies me.  Embers begin to fly through the shattered window and into the house now.

“Yes, you can.  Just open the door and jump.  I’ll be here to catch you, Jette.  I’m right here.  Trust me.  I won’t let you get hurt.  I’m right here.”  He sounds so confident.  I suppose it could work.

“Adam?  I’m scared.  There’s too much smoke.  I can’t see.”  The wall of smoke is just inches above my head.  I can feel the temperature in the room increasing tenfold and my fear is that the ceiling has ignited.  Despite the wet rag, I begin coughing and gagging, unable to catch my breath.

An enormous explosion of sparks in the back of the house startles me and I scream.  There’s no time left to debate.  “Jette?  What’s happening?” Adam calls. 

The front door is my only way out.  “I’m okay.  I’m coming out.  Get ready,” I warn him.  With the rag over my mouth, I choke back thick smoke and struggle to regain my footing as the black cloud thickens around me. I wrap myself in the blanket, covering my face and head as best I can.  Holding my breath and closing my eyes, I shield my hand with the blanket, turn the knob, ignoring the searing burn of the hot metal, and swing the door open.  Unable to see what’s happening, I hear a loud “swoosh” race past me as I leap across the threshold.  Just as promised, a pair of strong arms is there to catch me, ripping the blanket from me and tossing it to the side in one swift motion. 

I feel the rush of fresh air all around me, but when I try to take a deep cleansing breath, my chest burns.  My ears begin to ring loudly and my field of vision begins to narrow.  I hear sirens wailing in the distance.  Adam is talking to me, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.  I feel him wrapping something around my arm.  I want to say something.  I try to thank him, but I can’t get the words out.  A dark curtain closes around me, and I give in to the blackness, unable to stop its advance.

On Borrowed Time

I
hear words and voices, but none of it makes sense.  Still cloaked in darkness, I listen, trying to sort out the sounds.  It’s no use.  My chest hurts and my head is pounding.  I shut it all out again and allow sleep to claim me.  The pain subsides and the confusion clears, leaving only the dreamy images of flowers and football.

More voices creep into my dream state.  Some voices are familiar, others are not.  Evan’s voice is loudest of all.  He sounds distressed.  I hope he’s not mad at me.  In the background, I hear the repetitive beeping of medical equipment. My body is heavy.  Even my eyelids feel unmovable.  Unconsciousness beckons, offering solace and relief.

Again, the fog begins to lift and unpleasant memories come surging forward.  There was a fire.  And smoke.  So much smoke.  I ran through the flames.  Then nothing but black follows.  I feel the pressing force of a blood pressure cuff on my arm, squeezing tightly.  The beeping sounds return, along with voices. 

Slowly, I open my eyes, curious but afraid.  Where am I?  How badly hurt am I?  I see Evan standing near me, talking to a doctor.  I can hear their voices, but it’s like watching a movie.  I observe and listen, unaffected and disconnected.  They see me.  Evan takes my hand in his and kisses it, but I cannot feel his lips, his beautiful, perfect lips.  He’s asking me questions.  He wants me to answer him.  I’m not ready.  It’s too soon.  I’m scared.  This time, when I begin to feel myself being dragged back down into oblivion, I welcome it.

Soft, reassuring voices wake me again, urging me to talk.  Auggie is here with me now.  I open my eyes and look at his face.  He’s been crying.  He’s teary-eyed and sad.  He knows I can see him.  I want to tell him I’m okay.  I want him to know that I’m here, but my body betrays me.  I scream, but nothing comes out.  I reach for him, but my arm won’t budge.  I hear the quickening of the beeps, keeping perfect rhythm with my frenzied heart rate.  The fog returns bringing darkness with it.  I fight and struggle, but it’s no use.  Auggie slips away from me and I’m helpless to stop it.

Time passes without meaning or consequence.  Has it been minutes?  Hours?  Days? 

I feel the adoring, gentle touch of Evan’s hand, sweeping the hair from my brow and placing it lovingly behind my ear.  He traces a line down my neck and shoulder, and then takes my hand in his.  He begins tracing tiny circles with his thumb all along the soft, sensitive flesh of my inner arm.  It feels so good, like home.  I open my eyes and I see him, sitting beside me in the dark, his hair a mess.  This is my favorite way to wake up.  Memories of playful mornings, waking in his arms, paying no attention to time or schedules, come rushing back.  They are such sweet memories.  I moan a soft grunt of pleasurable satisfaction.

Evan stops his caresses and stares at me in disbelief.  He heard me.  “Don’t stop,” I mumble.

“Juliette?  Baby?  Can you hear me?” Evan asks, his voice cracking and strained.

I try to answer, but my mouth is so dry.  I nod my head and squeeze his hand.  I try to take a deep breath, and I’m rewarded by a harsh, painful cough instead.  “Water,” I hiss.

Evan helps me sit up.  He brings a straw to my lips, and the cool, refreshing liquid feels glorious.  I can’t seem to get enough.  Evan refills the cup, and I drink until it’s empty.

I feel something resembling a chinstrap beneath my jaw.  When I reach up to check, I find an oxygen tube wrapped behind my ears, feeding me fresh oxygen with every breath.  I look down and discover an I.V. line in the crook of my elbow.  My clothes are removed, leaving me in nothing but a hospital gown.  When did all this happen?  Why don’t I remember?

“What happened?” I whisper.

Evan frowns.  “You’re in the hospital.  You have the flu, smoke inhalation, and you went into shock.  You’ve been sleeping for a day and a half.  Do you remember any of it?” he asks.

I nod my head.  There are all kinds of wires attached to me.  I try to move, but it’s a tangled mess.  Evan sees me struggle and stops me.  “Wait, let me get the nurse.”  He reaches over and presses the buzzer.

Instantly, in walks a nurse wearing a friendly smile and a carrying a tote filled with all sorts of bandages, gauze, tubes, and other medical supplies.  “Well, look who decided to wake up.”  She reminds me a little of my mother.  She’s in her mid-fifties with short blonde hair and a round face.  “My name is Susan and I’m your nurse.”  She starts looking at the numbers on the machines surrounding me and makes notes in my chart.  She asks me what my name is, and when I successfully answer, she follows with another, “Do you know what day it is?”

I look at her with a blank stare. 

“Okay, let’s try a different question.  Do you know where you are?”

Relieved that I know that one, I answer, “Yes.  I’m in the hospital.”

Susan smiles.  “That’s great.  Do you know why you’re here today?”

I have to think about that one.  “House fire,” I answer, my voice barely audible.

“Very good, Juliette.  Your vitals are strong.  I’m going to remove some of the monitoring devices now.”  She takes off the blood pressure cuff and the heart monitors.  I try to remove the oxygen, but she won’t allow it.  “Not yet.  Your O2 levels are just starting to stabilize.  A few more hours and we should be able to remove that, too.”