I waited impatiently for Xavier to back out of the parking space. “Hurry!” I yelled.
He screeched out of the parking lot and sped down the road, passing Drew, who was already pushing the speed limit. He weaved in and out of traffic. I held on to my head with one hand and the dashboard with the other.
Burning. Screaming. Smoke. Flames. Heat. Family photos. My house.
The images and sensations filled my brain, flying in front of my eyes like a slideshow. They moved so fast it made me dizzy. The smell of smoke made it almost impossible for me to breathe. The heat was so intense that it felt like it was burning my skin. I could smell singed hair.
Horrific screams filled my head, making it pound harder. My stomach clenched and swirled and I bent over and threw up on the floor.
“I’m so sorry.” I wiped my mouth off with the back of my hand.
Xavier didn’t answer. He focused on driving. We came to a red light. He looked both ways before laying on the horn and barreling through the light. He ran two more lights before we were at the entrance to our subdivision. Engine roaring and tires squealing, he turned onto my street so fast that the back end of the car fishtailed, sending me into the side of the car and smacking my head against the window. I put my hand on the window and pushed off to sit up straight.
That was when I saw my house engulfed in red and orange flames.
22
Why?
Xavier drove toward my burning house, trying not to hit the people milling around gawking at the fire. We came to a stop about one hundred feet away. Barricades blocked the road to keep people away from the fire crews working to extinguish the blaze. I jumped out of the car and ran past a barricade.
“Miss! You can’t cross the barrier,” I heard a police officer yell. But he was surrounded by people and fifty pounds overweight. I easily slipped by him.
I kept running. “It’s my house.”
Two arms snaked out, grabbing me by the waist and lifting my feet off the ground. I screamed and pushed at the steely arms holding me in place, clawing and hitting them. My feet kicked wildly back and forth, trying to hit the person holding me. My heel banged into the person’s knee and he howled in pain, bending over slightly… just enough. I kicked his knee again and pinched the skin on his forearm as hard as I could. His grip wavered. It was all I needed. I shimmied my way out of his arms and ran toward my house.
It was hotter there. The closer I came to my childhood home, the more it felt like Hell. The wood crackled as the flames licked across it. Sparks flew and embers floated in the night air. The vinyl siding curled and melted against the wood beneath.
“Get back!” I heard a man bellow. Looking over my shoulder, I saw a portly firefighter running toward me. I reached the front door and before he could catch up to me, I rammed my shoulder against it. Falling inside, I landed on the floor with a grunt.
I scrambled up. The heat of the fire was nearly unbearable, and it was almost impossible to see in the smoke-filled room. I had to maneuver by memory, reaching for something to use as a guide. My fingertips grazed the wall, and I jerked my hand back. It was flaming hot.
“Mom!” I screamed. “Dad!”
I thought I heard them yelling to me from upstairs. I couldn’t be sure.
The fire roared around me. Pieces of ceiling fell and crashed against the buckling wood floor. The heat felt like it was cooking me. I could feel it burning my feet through my shoes.
“Mil… find… brother…” I heard my dad shouting from upstairs.
“Benjamin,” I screamed. “Ben!”
Splashes of a vision scrolled behind my eyes.
A door. Plain. White paint bubbling.
A white door—not Ben’s. His door had dinosaur stickers on it. His closet doors were covered in dinosaur posters. I closed my eyes, partly to concentrate on the vision, partly to shield them from the stinging smoke and drying heat.
“Where are you, Ben?”
I started to cough. The air was being sucked out of the room by the fire. It burned to take a breath, as if I was breathing in the flames. I remembered what I was taught in school and dropped to the floor to breathe in cleaner air.
The door is open. Coats hanging. Smoke fills the room.
“Ben!” I screamed.
The fire was spreading quickly. The drapes in the living room exploded in flames, the synthetic carpet began to melt, giving off a caustic odor. The odor combined with the airless room and other burning materials made me dizzy. The chemicals in the air burned my lungs and sinus membranes when I inhaled.
The vision played over and over in my mind. A white door and coats hanging, I had no idea what it was showing me, or, more importantly, where.
My parents ran down the stairs, fire from the second floor lapping at the ceiling above them.
“Benjamin!” my mom yelled between deep, rasping coughs.