8
c 2009 by Randal Schaffer
Just west of Avon, Minnesota, he saw a column of smoke rising into the sky. He alternated between watching the smoke and watching the road, until the source of the smoke came into view. An old, grand mansion about a quarter mile off of the road was burning merrily.
A woman, presumably the lady of the house, stood in front waving frantically at him, so he pulled in. She rushed up to his car, screaming “Do you have a cell phone? Please, God, say that you have a cell phone.”
He shook his head. “Threw it away. Do you and your husband not have them?”
She shook her head, obviously angry at herself. “They were in our bedroom when the fire broke out. And we don't have a home phone.”
Crap. “Okay, I'll drive until I find someplace where I can call the fire department. Where's your husband?”
She shot a glance at the house. “He went in to get our little girl, Cindy. She was napping. He's been gone... so long...”
As she said this, the husband came stumbling out of the smoke, retching and puking, covered from head to toe with smoke stains.
And no Cindy.
Shit.
He got out of the car, and said to the woman “What's your name?”
“What? Anne. What? Why?” She couldn't take her teary eyes off of her husband, so he grabbed her chin and turned her face to his.
“Anne. ANNE!” The urge to slap her rose in him, and he choked it down with brute force. “Anne, listen to me.” He folded his car keys into her hand. “Take my car. Go call the fire department, and then come back.”
The antic calm that she had forced on herself when her husband came out empty-handed shattered suddenly and completely. “CINDY! MY LITTLE GIRL!”
She turned as if to run for the house, and he grabbed her. Now he DID slap her, once, hard. She turned her blotchy face to him, anger glossing over the fear now. “Anne. You. Drive to the neighbors. Call the fire department. I will get Cindy. GO!”
He practically pushed her into the car, and felt himself buckshotted with high-velocity gravel as she pulled out. He ran up to the man, who was still retching smoke-colored bile on his hands and knees. He squatted beside the man and said “Where's Cindy's room? HEY! WHERE'S CINDY'S ROOM?”
The man looked up at him through eyes that were more red than white and gasped “Who... are you...?”
His composure snapped. Just like that. In that instant. “GOD DAMN! ARE YOU PEOPLE STUPID OR WHAT? DON'T WORRY ABOUT WHO I AM, JUST TELL ME WHICH ROOM YOUR FUCKING DAUGHTER IS IN!”
“Top... top of the stairs.. to the left....”
He took a deep breath. “Thank you, brother. Lie down.” He guided the man down onto his right side. “Stay on your side. DON'T lay on your back. You've got to choke all of that crap out.”
The man drew a ragged breath and caught his arm as he started to go. “Not... in her room. That's why I... couldn't get her. Not there... not in the bathroom... not in our bedroom.”
He nodded, pulled away, patted the man's hand reassuringly, and then sped for the house, thinking not in her room or theirs... not in the bathroom... presumably not downstairs... only leaves one place as near as I can tell. He looked up at the dormer windows at the top of the house, probably an attic, as he pulled his shirt up over his nose and mouth.
The door was gone, probably blown out by the heat or kicked loose by the husband. As he headed into the smoking, oven-hot house, he prayed silently “Dear Lord, if it is within your will, please guide me to little Cindy that I may bring her to safety. Oh, and not burning my stupid ass or smoking me to death would be good, too. Thank you. Amen.”
He gusted a little sigh of relief when he saw that the stairs were still pretty much intact. He hit them, flying up them two at a time to the second floor. There was the door that was presumably Cindy's standing open and, across the hall, the one that must belong to mom and dad. With the hand not holding his shirt, he rubbed hard at his eyes which had begun to burn as if someone had poured Tabasco sauce into them.
The stairs ended at the second-floor landing, so he started to scan the ceiling for a trapdoor... and there it was. Little Cindy must have pulled the stairs up behind her. He stretched up, beginning to cough a little as the smoke came through his shirt as he pulled the stairs down.
He climbed them, calling Cindy's name between coughs. Fortunately, the attic was a little smoky, but not bad, and there was no fire here yet. In response to one of his calls, he heard a mewling, gagging noise like a sick kitten and spotted her, crouched in the far corner.
“Cindy. I'm here to help. Let's get you outside.” As he said this, a roaring crash echoed up the steps, and flames started to lick through the hole. Little Cindy screamed and held her arms out to him. He lifted her and walked to the dormer window that he had seen from the outside, kicking it out as he approached it. He helped Cindy through onto the porch roof, saying “Don't move. We don't want you to fall.” And then stepped through himself, making sure that nothing valuable got stuck on the glass.
Cindy was still lying where he had left her, sobbing and gasping. He saw the husband, still on his back on the grass trying to get his senses back. He tried calling over to the husband, but wound up just coughing instead. He didn't know how much longer the roof would hold, but couldn't take a chance on just dropping Cindy from the roof. He leaned back into the attic, which was filling with smoke, and found a box near the window marked "X-mas". He had a flash of anger that these people had the temerity to X Christ's name out of Christmas, but then leaned in far enough to scoot the box over to where he could pick it up and haul it out onto the roof.
He opened the box and found several boxes of large, heavy glass ornaments. He opened the top box and took out two of the ornaments. He threw the first one, but it landed about five feet to the right of the husband and shattered with a pop. The next three landed nearer and nearer the husband. Finally, the last one in the box hit the husband in the forehead with a pop. As the husband sat up, the wife pulled back into the driveway, and he thought that he could hear sirens in the distance.
After looking around for a moment, dazed, the husband spotted them on the roof and stood, staggering over to the porch. He called down "I'm going to lower Cindy down to you." The husband nodded, and then held his arms up, ready to catch his daughter. He scooped Cindy up as the wife raced over, and then sat, bracing his feet in the gutter, and lowered her down. When he had just her hands in his, he called "I'm going to let her go."
He released her hands, and heard her scream briefly and breathlessly. He peeked over the roof and saw that the husband had her and was staggering back out into the yard, holding her close to him. He turned around, had a moment to note that smoke was now pouring out of the broken attic window, and then lowered himself down, his fingers on the edge of the gutter. The gutter came loose with a snap, and he found himself falling toward the steps below.
His feet hit the edge of one of the steps, and he reeled backward, landing hard on his ass. He stood, brushing the dirt from his pants. No real harm done, thanks to God. The wife was there, hugging him, then the husband, shaking his hand. The fire trucks had arrived, parking in the yard, and were getting ready to fight the fire. Lost cause, in his opinion. He shrugged off demands from the couple that he stay to talk to the press and accept more gratitude, but he wasn't interested in that.
He got back into his car and drove to a motel in Avon. After a long shower he threw away the smoke-filled clothes and fell into a long, uninterrupted sleep.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Mailing List
Hello.
If you'd like to be added to mailing list to let you know when this blog is updated, please send the request to dragonfoureyes@gmail.com
Thanks.
Randal
If you'd like to be added to mailing list to let you know when this blog is updated, please send the request to dragonfoureyes@gmail.com
Thanks.
Randal
Saturday, November 14, 2009
A Thank You and a Reminder
Thanks for reading my story. If you're enjoying it, please post a note letting me know. Remember, i'm not getting paid for this, i'm just posting it for your enjoyment and would like to hear your feedback.
Randal
Randal
The Journey Part 7
c 2009 by Randal Schaffer
At about five AM, his door opened, and he snapped awake. Donny Mack was standing on the garage floor, about six feet below him. Donny said "Got you into Cranks and Nuts Garage." Cute name, he thought, as Donny Mack helped him down, and then pointed at the mechanic, who waved a greeting. "This here's Elvin. Don't worry, you didn't wake him up or nothing. He don't usually sleep much since he got back from the war."
He extended his hand to Elvin who took it and shook it. Then he said "Pleased to meet you, Elvin. How are you doing?" Elvin made no reply, simply took his hand back and shook his head. Donny Mack leaned over and whispered "I should have mentioned - his voice didn't come back from the war with him. Viet Cong sniper got him right in the voice box. Lucky to be alive, frankly." He raised his voice slightly and said "I'll have the car off the truck in a jiffy here, Elroy. I'm gonna take this old boy over to the diner and talk him into buying me breakfast while we settle up. You have Ernest call the diner to let him know what the damage is gonna be, okay?" Donny Mack leaned back over and whispered "Ernie's his brother. He'll be here in fifteen or twenty minutes."
Fifteen minutes later, through an artful ballet of lowering the car, then pulling the truck forward, then lowering the car some more, then pulling the truck forward again, Donny Mack had his car neatly deposited into the bay of the Cranks and Nuts Garage.
Donny Mack parked his truck and then walked over, pointing and saying "Diner's about fifteen minutes that way."
They walked in silence, and Donny Mack took a pristine-looking cigarette from behind his ear, struck a match on a greasy thumbnail and lit the cigarette. He smoked like a true addict, not seeming to enjoy the cigarette at all, simply barreling through it to get his nicotine fix. He dropped the butt in the parking lot of the diner and smashed it out with his foot.
They walked into the diner, and Donny Mack waved a hand at the enormous woman behind the counter as they sat down. "Morning, Imelda. Just towed this city slicker in and I was wondering if we could get some breakfast and maybe some coffee."
He quickly jumped in and said "No coffee for me, please. But I will take a hot cocoa."
Imelda looked at him a little oddly, as if she had never heard a grown man order hot cocoa before, and then turned to the task of getting the drinks ready. He looked around the bar, between the salt and pepper shakers, and everywhere else that any diner that he had ever seen keep a menu, but there was none to be found. Donny Mack caught him looking and said "Ain't but one breakfast here, bud. Eggs, sausage and hash browns. It'll cost you six bucks, and tip Imelda well. She's a damned good cook and waitress.
After she handed the coffee and cocoa to the two men, Imelda went into the kitchen to fix breakfast. "She lose her voice in the war, too?" He asked.
Donny Mack chuffed a cigarette smoker's laugh and said "Nope. She just don't talk much. Didn't hardly speak no English when she got here, and I guess that she just fell out of the habit."
As she prepared the breakfast, Donny Mack took out a receipt book and calculator, figured for a few minutes, then said "Okay. Looks like about fifty bucks for the tow. That sound fair?"
He nodded and took three twenties out of his pocket. "Keep the ten for your troubles, okay?"
Donny Mack nodded and pocketed the money, handing him a receipt for the fifty. Imelda brought the breakfast out, he was glad to see, with an unmarked bottle of hot sauce. As he started to upend it over his eggs, Donny Mack caught his arms. "Be careful with that sauce, man. Imelda makes it herself, and it is HOT!" He nodded, dropped a few drops on, and then handed the bottle to Donny Mack, who did the same. He took a bite of the egg with the hot sauce on it, and immediately felt sweat spring out along his hairline.
"Damn." Was all that he could say before taking a large swallow of water. Donny Mack, smiling and nodding, followed suit.
About halfway through breakfast, an elderly man came in, walked up to them and said "Excuse me, sir." He looked at the elderly man who said "I'm Ernest. Pleased to meet you." They shook hands, and then the elderly man told him what was wrong with his car. The whole thing sounded like he was talking in a foreign language. Ernest finished with "He says he can have it done in an hour, and it'll cost you three hundred."
He said okay, realizing that this one day on the road had cost him a tenth of his total stake, and then he and Donny finished breakfast as Ernest went back to the garage.
When Imelda brought the bill, Donny Mack grabbed it before he could and said "I was just joshin' about you buying breakfast. I can write it off as a business expense since we did business while we ate."
Donny Mack put one of the twenties that he had given him on top of the bill, and they walked back to Cranks and Nuts together. He noticed that all three bay doors were open now, and all three bays filled. Donny Mack shook his hand and walked back to the truck, while he went in to pay. Elvin was working on one of the other cars as he walked in and waved him a quick hello. Ernest was in the office, and he peeled three hundred dollar bills off his bankroll, and then, reluctantly, added another ten.
He got back into his car, and headed east.
At about five AM, his door opened, and he snapped awake. Donny Mack was standing on the garage floor, about six feet below him. Donny said "Got you into Cranks and Nuts Garage." Cute name, he thought, as Donny Mack helped him down, and then pointed at the mechanic, who waved a greeting. "This here's Elvin. Don't worry, you didn't wake him up or nothing. He don't usually sleep much since he got back from the war."
He extended his hand to Elvin who took it and shook it. Then he said "Pleased to meet you, Elvin. How are you doing?" Elvin made no reply, simply took his hand back and shook his head. Donny Mack leaned over and whispered "I should have mentioned - his voice didn't come back from the war with him. Viet Cong sniper got him right in the voice box. Lucky to be alive, frankly." He raised his voice slightly and said "I'll have the car off the truck in a jiffy here, Elroy. I'm gonna take this old boy over to the diner and talk him into buying me breakfast while we settle up. You have Ernest call the diner to let him know what the damage is gonna be, okay?" Donny Mack leaned back over and whispered "Ernie's his brother. He'll be here in fifteen or twenty minutes."
Fifteen minutes later, through an artful ballet of lowering the car, then pulling the truck forward, then lowering the car some more, then pulling the truck forward again, Donny Mack had his car neatly deposited into the bay of the Cranks and Nuts Garage.
Donny Mack parked his truck and then walked over, pointing and saying "Diner's about fifteen minutes that way."
They walked in silence, and Donny Mack took a pristine-looking cigarette from behind his ear, struck a match on a greasy thumbnail and lit the cigarette. He smoked like a true addict, not seeming to enjoy the cigarette at all, simply barreling through it to get his nicotine fix. He dropped the butt in the parking lot of the diner and smashed it out with his foot.
They walked into the diner, and Donny Mack waved a hand at the enormous woman behind the counter as they sat down. "Morning, Imelda. Just towed this city slicker in and I was wondering if we could get some breakfast and maybe some coffee."
He quickly jumped in and said "No coffee for me, please. But I will take a hot cocoa."
Imelda looked at him a little oddly, as if she had never heard a grown man order hot cocoa before, and then turned to the task of getting the drinks ready. He looked around the bar, between the salt and pepper shakers, and everywhere else that any diner that he had ever seen keep a menu, but there was none to be found. Donny Mack caught him looking and said "Ain't but one breakfast here, bud. Eggs, sausage and hash browns. It'll cost you six bucks, and tip Imelda well. She's a damned good cook and waitress.
After she handed the coffee and cocoa to the two men, Imelda went into the kitchen to fix breakfast. "She lose her voice in the war, too?" He asked.
Donny Mack chuffed a cigarette smoker's laugh and said "Nope. She just don't talk much. Didn't hardly speak no English when she got here, and I guess that she just fell out of the habit."
As she prepared the breakfast, Donny Mack took out a receipt book and calculator, figured for a few minutes, then said "Okay. Looks like about fifty bucks for the tow. That sound fair?"
He nodded and took three twenties out of his pocket. "Keep the ten for your troubles, okay?"
Donny Mack nodded and pocketed the money, handing him a receipt for the fifty. Imelda brought the breakfast out, he was glad to see, with an unmarked bottle of hot sauce. As he started to upend it over his eggs, Donny Mack caught his arms. "Be careful with that sauce, man. Imelda makes it herself, and it is HOT!" He nodded, dropped a few drops on, and then handed the bottle to Donny Mack, who did the same. He took a bite of the egg with the hot sauce on it, and immediately felt sweat spring out along his hairline.
"Damn." Was all that he could say before taking a large swallow of water. Donny Mack, smiling and nodding, followed suit.
About halfway through breakfast, an elderly man came in, walked up to them and said "Excuse me, sir." He looked at the elderly man who said "I'm Ernest. Pleased to meet you." They shook hands, and then the elderly man told him what was wrong with his car. The whole thing sounded like he was talking in a foreign language. Ernest finished with "He says he can have it done in an hour, and it'll cost you three hundred."
He said okay, realizing that this one day on the road had cost him a tenth of his total stake, and then he and Donny finished breakfast as Ernest went back to the garage.
When Imelda brought the bill, Donny Mack grabbed it before he could and said "I was just joshin' about you buying breakfast. I can write it off as a business expense since we did business while we ate."
Donny Mack put one of the twenties that he had given him on top of the bill, and they walked back to Cranks and Nuts together. He noticed that all three bay doors were open now, and all three bays filled. Donny Mack shook his hand and walked back to the truck, while he went in to pay. Elvin was working on one of the other cars as he walked in and waved him a quick hello. Ernest was in the office, and he peeled three hundred dollar bills off his bankroll, and then, reluctantly, added another ten.
He got back into his car, and headed east.
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