Christmas Day Fire

Night had long since fallen. He'd allowed Anna to coax him off the sofa and to be. He sat and let her undress him, not even interested in taking that much effort. If it were up to him he would have just gone to bed dressed. He made his way back to the living room, the tree still gaily blinking and sparkling. He sat and looked at some of the ornaments, trying to remember when each and every one was purchased or made. So many were made by their children, more even than had been purchased. Though some of those were there girls favorites.

He was nearly asleep again, still sitting on the sofa. The light from the tree seemed to change slightly, something odd, something out of place. His mind took long seconds to drag him back from the brink of sleep, something wasn't right, something was tugging at his mind. His eyes blinked open like a shot. "Mary?" he asked, having sworn he heard her whisper his name from behind him. He twisted to look behind him, but all that was there was darkness. The darkness of the kitchen and dining room, the gentle-colored twinkle flashing on the walls from the tree behind him. The orange glittering on the kitchen wall. His mind struggled for a moment. That was what was out of place. Orange didn't belong. Red, green, blue, yellow, but not orange. He had no orange Christmas lights, either on the tree or the house.

He turned to look the tree, curious where the orange was coming from, then he saw it. It wasn't his tree. It wasn't the decorations on his house or even any of the other houses in the neighborhood. It was coming from the one non-decorated house on the block, the plain white non-decorated house across the street. In the corner of the roof flickering orange pushed through the black shingles, melting the growing blanket of snow that had collected. The orange flicker grew even larger in the few seconds he had been watching it in fascination. His mind seemed numb. He was so lost in his grief that it took precious seconds to realize what was happening. He had watched the moving van earlier. The house, having been vacant for almost two weeks was no longer so. He remembered seeing the young woman walking to the house. The small compact car was parked in the driveway, covered in the blanket of snow that was now at least two inches thick.

David really wasn't thinking clearly, if at all. His mind was working through the blur of his loss. "GO!" he heard his wife urgently say to him. He knew it was impossible, but yet he heard it very clearly in his mind. He reacted exactly as he would have if she had been standing there. Exactly the way he had for all the years they had been together. David got up from the sofa and ran to the front door. He didn't bother to get his cell phone from his bedroom, he didn't bother to dress, still wearing the pajamas that his daughter had helped him dress in, he didn't even stop to put on shoes, boots or slippers. David reacted and ran out the door into the falling snow. He was halfway across the road before the cold wetness of the white blanket seeped into his feet and made the mental connection. He chastised himself for not thinking about shoes, but continued to run, the sound of his wife's voice strong in his mind. "Hurry!" she seemed to coax. "Please hurry!"

He pulled the screen door open and pounded on the door. He didn't even know her name. He just knew she was in there. He beat on the door harder, hoping to wake her and alert her to the danger. In frustration he tried the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. He pushed the door open and shouted. "HEY! Your house is on fire!" He listened, no answer came forth. He could hear the fire crackling. He looked through the living room and saw the paint on the far wall bubbling and blistering as the fire inside the wall grew. The layout looked much like his own house. He ran past the stairs going up to find the master bedroom, only to find it stacked with boxes. No one would be sleeping in there. He ran back to the stairs and shouted up the stairs again. "HEY! ANYONE IN HERE!"

Smoke was already starting to creep down the stairway ceiling, slowly filling the upstairs. He pounded up the stairs, ducking low and gagging on the growing smoke. Three rooms, like his house. He headed to the furthest first, the closest to the fire. The door was closed. He felt it like he'd been taught since kindergarten. Make sure it isn't hot! It was. Hot enough to burn the palm of his hand. No one would be coming out of that room, and if he opened the door he probably wouldn't be coming out either. That left two rooms. His chocking dropped him to his knees, barely able to breath as the heavy smoke continued to build in the hallway, getting darker and heavier. The lighter smoke he could see through was already reaching the floor and pushing into the first floor. He knew he didn't have much time. He crawled back down the hall to the next room. The door was closed and he felt it. Still cool. He opened it and found only a few piles of boxes and some exercise equipment. Nothing else worth looking at.

His head started to swim as breathing became more difficult. A chocking fit struck him as he pulled the door closed. He wanted to get out, his brain screamed that he needed to get away, but another part told him one more room. Just one more room. He crawled to the open door and found piles of boxes and a mattress. Lying on the mattress was a young woman. He crawled into the room, stopping half way to the mattress to choke again. He needed to get a breath, but every time he did, it burned inside. He tried to hold is breath and crawl to where she was, his vision blurred by the burning watering of his eyes. She lay covered with a sheet and blanket, which he jerked off. He tried to shake her awake, but couldn't bring himself to say anything without starting another choking spasm. He grabbed at her arm and tried to pull her with him. She wasn't large, she was actually fairly petite. His mind briefly flashed to how Mary had looked so many times, laying in nothing but a pair of tiny black panties when she wanted to tease him into action, and how similar the young woman now looked.

The thought only lasted a few fractions of a second before the next choking fit overtook him, seeming to chastise him for his thoughts. He rolled on the floor, the choking so hard it made little stars in his vision and he wondered if he'd been too rash, coming in here the way he had. Mary had always said he lacked impulse control, especially when it came to her. All she had to do was to show him her tiny black lace panties and she could count on his predictable response. It didn't matter where, out in the woods, at company parties, even at friends houses. She loved to tease him and feel him drive them both to ecstasy with his cock, even if it was in someone's bathroom or against a tree in the woods. She seemed to delight in keeping things fresh and new their entire marriage, even allowing him to give her a quick fuck in their daughter's dorm room once while they were moving her in. She seemed to never tire of finding ways to tease and coax him in that way. The one thing she never did, was to allow or invite anyone else into their game. It was for the two of them, and the two of them only.

He had no idea why all of the sudden these images and feelings overflowed him as he lay on the floor gasping, struggling to get another breath. His mind screamed at him that he needed to get out. He needed to get away from the burning of his lungs and the stinging in his eyes. He could see the heavy black smoke that was traveling across the ceiling of the room was banking lower and lower toward him. He knew instinctively that it was time to get out before he couldn't. but if he didn't, it would at least end the pain he was in. He closed his eyes and wondered if she was right, if heaven did exist. He was tempted to just let the blackness overtake him.

"MOVE!" he heard Mary scream in his brain. "NOT LIKE THIS!" He rolled onto his stomach and could see light where the dooway was, orange flickering light. He knew he was running out of time, but the same voice that told him to get out demanded that he not leave her. He pushed himself up and crawled the two feet to where she lay on the mattress. He pulled her to him, her bare breasts, each the size of a small coconut half, pressing to his chest as he tried to hug her to him. He wanted to check to see if she was alive, but knew that he didn't even have time for that. He tried to stand, the heat and heavy smoke forcing him back down again.

He started to back himself out of the room, crab walking on one hand and his bare feet, the woman laying on his chest, held there by one arm. He was out the door and he knew the stairs were close, he knew they had to be, but he couldn't see them. The smoke was getting too heavy and he could barely open his eyes for the acrid, burning sensation. He tried to blink away the tears and see where he was going, but all he could to was slam them shut again. He wanted to lay down and stop, but that voice just kept telling him to keep moving, one more push, one more pull, keep moving.

His lungs burned in his chest and he realized he was holding his breath. Maybe that was a good thing, but his body was starting to scream at him to breathe. He opened his mouth to draw in some air and fell into another gasping choking fit as he tried to keep crawling backwards. He felt the stairs, or more correctly, the lack of floor under his right hand. He felt himself falling, sliding, tumbling down the stairs. The two of them rolled and slid down the long stairway, bruising his back and body in multiple places, but he refused to lose his grip on the young woman's body. He held her tightly to him, their bodies squeezed together, her face next to his her cheek pressing to his as he held her to him with one arm. He lay on the stairs, his head lower than his feet. He could feel his feet tangled in something, but his brain couldn't work out what. He tried to kick it off as he slid the last few steps to the floor below. It was cooler, he could almost breathe, but not quite. He pried his eyes open for a moment and saw light behind him and knew it was the front door, still standing open. It had to be. If it wasn't he wasn't going to make it and he knew it. But that voice kept telling him to move, one more push, only a few more feet. He could make it. He was strong enough, he could do it if he tried.

He blinked his eyes open again and could see the heavy black smoke that was now forcing its way down the stairs finding the open door and billowing out, the massive heat of the fire flowing out the opening with the smoke. It was painfully hot, but he had to keep moving. The voice in his head told him if he didn't he wouldn't survive, nor would the woman in his arms, and he had to survive. He didn't know why, but the voice insisted he must. He pushed himself back again, forcing himself to drag her to and then through the door.

He pushed hard, once, twice, three times with his feet. He finally pushed clear of the door and the heat was suddenly replaced with something else, cold! Almost unimaginable cold! He felt like he'd been pulled from an oven and thrust into ice water. His brain rebelled and instead of being able to breathe, his body made a massive gasp and then refused to let him breathe. He felt the cold flowing into his body as he pushed one final time, sliding across the rough concrete and away from the heat of the fire.

He was out, but he knew it was for naught. He told the voice in his head he had failed. He felt his vision fade hoped that Mary had been right, that there was a heaven. He'd failed to protect Mary. He failed to save the woman in his arms. If Mary were right, he prayed he'd see her soon. If not, he knew he was at the end of the line. If heaven existed, he hoped he'd find himself there. He wished at that moment he had the confidence she always did.

"Engine twenty-seven on scene. Two story residential, heavy fire showing through the roof. Heavy involvement," the Captain said into his radio as they rolled up. "Engine Twenty-eight, hit the hydrant at the end of the street and pull the four inch. This is gonna be an all-nighter. Dispatch, ring out a second alarm please." He climbed from the truck and looked at the house, only then noticing two bodies laying in the snow outside the house. "Damn," he groaned. He keyed the microphone again. "Dispatch, better send a box. We have victims in the front yard."

The captain walked to the two bodies, both of them almost nude, a woman wearing nothing but a pair of underwear and a man lying under her, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants that seemed to have come nearly all the way off his body, hanging on only by one leg. He felt and heard the two men running into the doorway with a hose line as he knelt next to the two bodies. Surprisingly they didn't seem to be seriously burned. The way they were lying, he'd expected much worse. Neither was moving, and he didn't see any signs they were breathing. He leaned toward them and felt for a pulse on the neck of the young woman. "SHIT!" he swore before keying the microphone clipped to his coat. "Rescue Twenty. Get me oxygen and a trauma bag!" He gently tried to roll the woman off the man's body, but he seemed to be holding her tightly to him, almost refusing to let go. Rigor couldn't have set in yet. It was too soon. He tried again, the man's arm actually pulled her tighter to him. "Dispatch. Get that box moving, we have two survivors."

He firmly coaxed the man to release the woman, his daughter he guessed, and eased her off his chest. He rolled her onto her back and was surprised to see her chest move. She was breathing, but not much. The rescue team didn't waste any time. In moments they had oxygen masks on the two victims and were checking for other injuries. Some burns, but not bad, mostly first degree. A lot of bruising. They looked like they had taken a beating of some kind.

White smoke started to pour from the house when Anna walked to the front room. It was cold in the Living room. The front door was standing open. She could see past the fire truck where several firemen were kneeling. She could see bodies. She suddenly had a feeling of dread overcome her. She ran to her father's bedroom. The door was open. She turned on the light and sure enough, his bed was empty. "Oh god no!" she gasped as she ran to the front door. The footprints down the driveway in the two inch deep snow confirmed her worst fears. She ran out the door, her own barefoot prints next to her father's as she ran across the road. A police officer stopped her before she could run into the yard.

"Hold on there. Where do you think you're going?" he said, grabbing her arms and stopping her.

"Let me go! I think that's my father!" she cried, trying to pull away from the officer. He looked at the fear on her face and let her go, allowing her to run past the fire truck and up to the two bodies lying in the snow. "DAD!" she screamed as she recognized her father laying naked in the snow. "DAD!"

"Hang on," one of the firefighters said as he grabbed her, inches away from her father. "Take it easy. He's alive," he said, trying to calm her. "We're working on him. Do you know who the young woman is?"

Anna stopped struggling and looked at the second body, only now realizing it was indeed a young woman. She too had a mask on her face and she could tell that the woman was breathing. "Uh, no. Someone just moved in today. It must be her. My dad must have seen the fire and tried to wake her."

"Well, he managed to get her out, but both are unconscious. Probably from the smoke. We have an ambulance on the way. There isn't much you can do here at the moment," he said as another fire fighter stepped over to her father with a backboard.

"Can you cover him with a blanket or something at least?" she begged, tears streaming down her face both from fear and relief.

"We will. Just as soon as we get him on a backboard. Now you can't do anything here. Why don't you go home and get some clothes on. You'll want to go to the hospital and meet him there."

"Clothes?" she asked only now fully hearing what he was saying.

"You. Go get dressed. You don't want to go to the hospital that way," he said, nodding at her body, most of her showing through her sheer nightgown. "Go on. I'll stay with him all the way to the hospital. I think he'll be alright, but we wont know for sure until we get him there. His lungs could be injured."

"His lungs?"

"From the heat and smoke. He apparently went in to rescue the young lady. Now go and get dressed before you freeze out here."

Anna only then realized that she was indeed freezing, her feet tingling from the cold as she stood barefoot in the snow. She wrapped her arms around her body and walked quickly back to the house, waking the rest of the family and doing what the fireman suggested, getting dressed.

David sat on the bench on the wooden platform, the willows hanging down around it, secluding it from the gravel path that led past it. He looked over the water, the light breeze rippling the surface. He just sat, looking, waiting, but for what he didn't really know. The wind was warm, which was a surprise, given the snow he had been in, what, moments before?

"Hello David," he heard Mary say from behind him. She stepped around the bench and stood in front of him, naked except for a tiny pair of black lace underwear.

"MARY!" he exclaimed as he stood up. He stepped to her and took her in his arms, pulling them together and kissing her eagerly. "You didn't die! It was all a mistake!" He gasped as he hugged her after breaking the kiss.

"No David. I did." she whispered.

"I don't understand. How can you be here then? I don't understand."

"I'm here because of you."

"Me?"

"You did a stupid, wonderfully, terribly, heroic thing tonight. You saved a life that wasn't meant to end yet. I knew you could. You were the only one that could."

"I don't understand."

"Emily, the young woman that moved in today. You saved her, from the fire. You were the only one that could. And you did."

"I don't understand. Am I dead? Is that why I can see you? That you were right and heaven exists?"

"You, my love? No, but you're hanging on by a thread. Right now it could go either way. He won't tell me which way it will go, though I know he knows. He said if I wanted to, I could have a choice. You could join me here, or you could go back. I want to be selfish, but you have too much to live for yet. Our children, seven grand children."

"Seven? We only have one."

"I know," she said softly. But that will change. Even now Anna is growing number two. Time here, it's not the way you and I know it. Past, present, future, are all the same. So yes, seven."

"My god."

"Shhhhh. You shouldn't do that."

"I miss you so much," David whispered before breaking down into sobs. His wife held him as he cried for what seemed like hours, to him, before he could gather himself again. "I'm sorry. Not very dignified," he finally managed to sniff out.

"No my love. But I understand," she whispered, still holding him. "I'm going to send you back. You have too much life to live yet. I can't say what all will happen, but I can see that you have a lot yet to give."

"I don't know if I can live without you," he whispered.

"You can. And you will. I want you to be happy. Sitting and letting life pass you by because I'm gone is not what you should be doing. He doesn't like wasting life. He gives us life to live according to his will, but we still have to live it. Tonight you took a step. A big step. You saved a life that needed to be saved. She, like you, was giving up because of her own loss. Your saving her will bring her away from that, just like your saving her will bring you away from your loss of me."