Fireproof

"When we were outside on the porch, you said nothing was off the table. Did you mean it?"

"Anything you want, but I have to tell you, I'm drained."

"Oh, no, not that. I want to ask you something."

"Ask away. Whatever you want to know, if I can, I'll tell you."

Amanda moved her hand over Ben's arm. So strong, so lean. The sun bleached the hairs on his arms silver-white, and she ran her fingertips through them. "I like it when you brush my hair. It feels good. But why do you need my top and bra off when you do?"

Ben lifted his right shoulder. "I don't know how to put it into words. How do you describe a feeling?"

"As much as I love you, Ben, sometimes I'm not in the mood for sex. Sometimes I need a shower, my legs are furry or I could be tired."

Ben shook his head. "It's not sex. Did you think? Oh, god no. I didn't do it to initiate sex with you. Is that what you thought?"

"Huh-huh. I mean bare breasts and sex go together."

"Oh, no. No. That's not what it was about."

"What is it then?"

Amanda watched Ben as he tried to form the words he needed to say. The seconds ticked by. "I guess it was our third date. It was at Walker's Point. It was late autumn, and the grass had a frozen-crystal layer of dew. It crunched when we'd walk on it.

"I took so many girls up there, from the head cheerleader to the band majorettes. We'd go to Walker's Point, and we'd be at it like rabbits within seconds.

"But that night. You were so scared "

"I remember now," Amanda replied.

"It was cold inside the Jeep, but I slipped off your jacket anyway. You had your hair up and I remember telling you how pretty you looked when you wore it down. I slipped a few pins out and allowed it to fall over your shoulder. Oh, god you looked so good."

"You have quite a memory."

"Some things you never forget." Ben continued. "I asked you to take your shirt off. You never said a word; your fingers fumbled you never said a word with the buttons 'til it was open." Ben pulled Amanda tight, and his hands moved over her thigh. "I slipped your shirt off. I palmed your breasts, hidden from view by a small blue bra. Then for the first time in your life, a boy reached behind your back and released your bra. It fell loose and I took it in my hands; it was so warm and curved to your body."

"I cried when you took it off "cause I wished I had more to offer you. I was afraid you'd laugh."

Ben's breath warmed her ear. "You were perfect. You still are." Ben watched a teardrop trickle down her cheek.

"You were the first, weren't you?"

"Yes, those guys that raped you don't count."

"They don't, do they?"

"Not in the least. I was the first and you looked at me with such innocent eyes."

"You said I had the most beautiful blue eyes you ever saw."

"You still do. I planned on having sex that night. But when I looked at you, your hair flowed down over your breasts. In the stillness of the night air, the silence surrounded us. I could hear my blood rushing through my brain. You pulled a small white hairbrush from your purse. You told me that since I liked your hair so much, I might like to brush it."

Ben slipped his hand behind Amanda's head and held her in his grip. Their lips were a whisper apart. "In the back seat of my old beat up Jeep I fell in love for the first time. I knew I was going to marry you."

"Ah, Ben."

"Amanda, nowadays, I reach out grasping at a reality that lies just beyond my reach. There are times I need to feel your hair flow through my fingers. The fragrance of sage and jasmine in your hair fills me instead of the acidic smell of burnt flesh. In place of mangled bodies and severed limbs, I look at your breasts and revel in their softness. I see you as I did on that chilly backseat so long ago: your innocent and youth, your smile, the warmth of your body. I want to catch that splinter of time and hold it, but I can't, so I brush your hair across your shoulders and over your breasts, and my mind takes me back. You're my soft spot and—"

"For twenty-five years I didn't know," Amanda whispered.

"I didn't think you'd understand."

Amanda clasped Ben's hand and placed it between her breasts. "Anytime, and I mean anytime, you need me, I'll be here."

Ben nodded. "We had one hell of a night, didn't we?" His voice was low and seductive. His thumb stroked her cheek, and then he looped Amanda's hair around her ear and gently spread it across her bare shoulder.

"As golden as a Kansas wheat field; eyes as blue as a Kansas summer sky."

********

The sun quickly burned away the morning haze when Ben stretched and stood.

"Time to get up," Ben said as he shook Amanda's shoulder.

"All ready?" Amanda moaned.

"I'll cook breakfast. There's a shirt in the hallway for you to wear."

The tiny apartment quickly filled with the aroma of bacon and eggs while Amanda retreated to the bathroom. She emerged wearing one of Ben's white shirts. She walked barefoot over to the small stove and draped her arms around Ben's neck.

"I'm not wearing panties." Amanda grinned.

Ben turned the frying bacon and cupped her butt. His fingers moved and with the back of his hand he passed it over her short curly hairs.

"What would you say if I wanted to shave you there?"

Amanda jumped. "Shave me?" Her fingers covered her pelt. "Down here?"

Ben grinned. "I was thinking about it, especially after what I did for you last night. I think that's a fair exchange. I want you bare and smooth in the shower after breakfast. Every. Single. Hair."

Amanda gulped loudly.

"I don't know about that." Amanda stammered. "I've never been shaved there before. I don't know about that."

"Well then, the alternative I had in mind would be simpler."

Amanda grabbed his wrist. "What alternative?"

Ben turned the burner off. He picked up Amanda's stockings, garter belt, and heels. "You put these on. You get on the bed and give me a show. Just like I did for you last night.

"You want me to do what?"

"Do I have to spell it out?" Ben handed Amanda a stocking. "All right then. You put on your stockings, wiggle the garter belt up you waist. You slip your heels on. You get on the bed and spread your legs. You work that tight pussy of yours into a climax while I watch. Or "

"Or what?" Amanda pulled the nylon through her fingers several times before she pushed it back down in one of her shoes that sat on the table's edge.

Ben rushed to the bathroom and returned with a bag of disposable razors and shaving cream.

"Or, I take you into the shower and shave your pussy until its baby smooth." Ben grinned. "You owe me for last night."

Ben slid two plates onto the wooden table. "What will it be?" Ben took a bite of his food. He pointed his fork to the bag of razors. "Your choice."

Amanda slipped into her chair. Taking small bites, she played with her food. She looked at Ben.

"You want me to masturbate while you watch "

"Like I did last night."

"Or shave my bush."

"That's the idea."

"And then?"

"I've made some plans for today."

"I see. Do those plans involve me?"

"I'm going to take you back to the old house, and I'd like to see you wear a certain white sundress I know is hanging in the closet."

"Anything else? Or am I suppose to bare under my dress?"

Ben slid Amanda's high heels and stockings next to her.

"Umm, I see. Tell me, Captain Meir, what are you planning with your woman on a lovely Saturday morning that requires a white sundress, stockings, heels and a bare pussy?"

Ben put his fork down and folded his hands. "You and I are going to see a realtor that I know and we're putting the house up for sale. I never did like that house."

Amanda stood so quickly she almost toppled the table. "Are you saying?"

"I'm saying... You're moving in with me. We're going to rebuild our marriage. Some things are worth rebuilding after a fire. Amanda, I am deeply sorry for what I did in Vegas." Ben knelt before her and held her hand. "I beg your forgiveness. "Cause I want another crack at making our marriage work, too. Amanda, please tell me that I'm forgiven."

Amanda dropped to her knees and sobbed. "I do, Ben. With all my soul, I forgive you."

They enfolded one another, and their kisses fought for dominance. Several minutes later, Amanda stood, un-buttoned her shirt and snatched the bag of razors in one hand and her shoes and stockings in the other. "There's a third option."

"And what would that be?"

"You get both!"

*******

It was Ben's week for the afternoon shift. He stood in front of the fire trucks with his arms crossed. He heard the muffled sounds of his crew checking their gear.

"What's up, Captain? You've been staring at the sky for hours," one of the new firefighters queried.

"It's dry. Way too dry. It won't take much. Not on a night like this."

The young rookie looked confused. But not Ben, for he knew a fire was brewing. The way it begins. He could smell it. It was something that Ben knew on an entirely different plane.

Fire Ben despised fire.

Like this father, grandfather, and great-grandfather before him, Ben was a firefighter. It was in his DNA: a rare breed of men and women who carry with them an arcane knowledge of fire.

He witnessed first hand the destructive power fire had. The families it changed and the lives it destroyed. To some, fire was only a chemical reaction but to Ben it was far more. It consumes fuel, reproduces, and reacts to its environment. It was alive. And all the reason in the world couldn't convince him otherwise.

"Double check the Scot packs," Ben called out. "We'll need "em tonight." Ben caught himself as he looked over his shoulder. Just like any normal person would when they pass a junkyard dog. Ben didn't trust the weather, or this night.

The remainder of the afternoon was routine. There were a few accidents, a trash fire, but nothing extraordinary. Evening fell and soon the firehouse settled down for sleep. Firefighters always sleep with one eye open, but tonight, Ben kept both eyes open.

The klaxon shattered the stillness of the firehouse. The radio blasted out tones: "Engine 51. Squad 51. Ladder 97. Squad 23. Apartment fire. 91 South Ave. Cross roads Duke and East Chester. Time out: 22 hours 18 minutes. KAD913."

The firehouse exploded into action. The engines of the fire trucks belched diesel fumes as they rumbled to life. The automatic doors were almost open when the first truck roared out.

The young rookie buttoned his jacket. His fingers shook slightly and Ben noticed. "You're not one of my regular guys, are you?" Ben asked as the truck rocked and swayed through the streets.

"No sir. I'm ah, from another squad. We rotate, ya know."

"What's your name, son?" Ben yelled over the wail of the sirens.

"Williams, sir."

"Well, Williams, is this your first big fire?" Ben said as he smiled at the rookie.

The young man nodded. Ben smiled deep down. He remembered his first big one, too. It scared him to death.

As the fire trucks blasted through intersections, the yellow glow lit up the sky. Ben knew their destination. It was the Grant Apartments. A firetrap when they were built in the 70s, and now with the hot dry air, they were standing piles of kindling waiting for one overloaded electrical circuit.

Ben picked up the radio's microphone as the fire truck slowed to a stop. "Lay down two and half to the forward hydrant. Drop two three-inchers to the north hydrant. Ladder 97: west side, out of the smoke. Dispatch, engine 51."

"Go ahead 51."

"Grant Apartments are fully engulfed. Call in second alarm."

"Copy 51. Second alarm. Engine 51. 22 hours 23 minutes. KAD913."

Ben jumped down and directed what seemed like chaos to the spectators gathered to watch the fire. The ladder truck radioed it was ready with outriggers poised and set. "Ventilate the west half of the roof," Ben radioed back.

A cop ran over to Ben. "Ben, I've got a family over there that says they can't find their daughter. They looked. They think "

"Ah, shit!" Ben said. "Engine 51, dispatch."

"51 go."

"Where the hell is my second engine company?"

"Engine 54. ETA ten. 22 hours 27 minutes."

Ben spat on the ground. "Too long—damn it, that's gonna be too fuckin' long. What apartment?"

Ben pushed the microphone on his radio. "Nick, you've got it."

"Roger, Ben," Nick radioed back. "Incident command will setup north of Ladder 97."

Ben took off his helmet, and slipped the oxygen mask around his neck. "Well, someone's got to go in. You can't live forever, can you?" Ben said to the cop. Ben placed the mask over his face and pushed the regulator button sending in a puff of air. Just then the rookie ran up. "Williams," Ben called out. "What're you doing?"

"Nick sent me back here for "

"Good. "Cause you and I are gonna find a lost little girl."

"Inside?"

Ben slapped him on the back, "That's where she is." Ben poked the young man in the chest. "And you and I are going in and get her."

They walked into the spray from the hoses. "It's just like your training, son; only for real. You take the lead."

"What if I burn?" The rookie stopped cold.

"Son, nobody is fireproof." Ben stopped and thought about Amanda and their life together. He heard Mrs. Frederick's voice in his head.

"You all right, Captain?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Ben slapped the rookie's back again.

The young firefighter smiled and together they walked carefully into the building. The sounds of their air regulators made a swish-snap sound as they fed oxygen to the men. Ben signaled they needed to get low; so low they ended up crawling. The rooms were filled with smoke so thick you could walk on it. Pictures were ablaze. The television melted into a distorted Art Deco design. Ben stopped and opened a small yellow pelican case, and then pulled out an infrared scanner. "This thing better be worth what we paid for it." On his knees Ben scanned the burning, smoked-filled rooms looking for the telltale image of a body. But Ben didn't need a high-tech gizmo. Twenty-seven years of experience told him a small child would hide in a fire; and that child would always hide in the place they felt the safest their bedroom.

The scared rookie soon depleted his air tank. Suddenly, the sound of the low-air warning device pierced the room. Ben reacted. "You're outta air. Get out."

"But "

"This isn't a debate," Ben barked.

"We go in together, we leave together. That's the rule."

Ben shook his head. "I'll be right behind you. GO!"

But Ben wasn't right behind. He checked his air tank. Ben knew how to breathe, how to get the most out of his Scot pack. He tapped the dial; ten more minutes of air. He crawled toward the last room to be checked. He moved the scanner side-to-side but it saw nothing but flames hidden in the smoke. Swish-snap. He saw on the scanner's screen what looked like a small bedroom. The paint on the wall blistered and popped. The scanner showed temperatures over 500 degrees inside a closet. The smoke boiled in layers on the ceiling and looked like an angry cloud ready to explode. Ben knew the room was near flashover. One last sweep. There. He moved the scanner back. There it was; the unmistakable outline of a human foot. Ben searched for the girl's foot. Swish-snap. The bed she hid under was burning. Ben swooped her up and wrapped her inside his thick coat for protection. He moved only a few feet, still almost on the floor; he pushed on the regulator and sucked in as many breaths as he could hold. He placed his mask over the girl's face and held the button.

"Come on, breathe—"

He took a lung full of air then pinched her nose and blew the air into her mouth. Another breath; swish-snap. He heard the building moan; he knew that sound. It was the building's death throe. He heard the child's first cough.

The shriek of air horns attempted to cut through the pandemonium. Three long, sharp blasts. Ben knew that was the signal to evacuate. Again they sounded. His G3 screaming it was time to leave. The ceiling started to fall. "We gotta go!"

Ben wrapped her tightly in his coat and on his knees crawled toward the door. He put his arm up, shielding his face from the flames. Swish-snap. Three long blasts. The door. He could almost see it. Then the building in one loud, final shriek of death came tumbling down. "Oh, Jesus!" Ben leaped toward a doorway.

*****

Sharon pounded on the door of her dad's apartment. "Mom!" she yelled as she continued to slam her fist on the door. "Mom!"

Just as Sharon was about to hammer once more, it opened. Amanda stood rubbing sleep from her eyes. "I was in bed, what's wrong? Why all the shouting?"

Sharon exploded into the apartment and pushed her mother to the side. "Get some clothes on. Mom, hurry!"

"What's this all about?" Amanda asked while she jerked on a pair of jeans. "What's wrong, Sharon?"

Sharon wiped tears from her face. "It's dad. There was a fire. They tried calling here. A really bad fire and dad "

Amanda suddenly felt Sharon's apprehension. "Is dad all right?"

Sharon tilted her head and held her lips closed as she shook her head. Tears slid down her cheeks. "No Mom, he's not all right."

The two women exploded out of the house.

*****

Amanda burst into the corridor of the emergency department, her white shirttails billowing behind her. She saw Nick, Ben's second in command, standing with his arms limp at his sides, his face dirty and smoky. She raced up to him, panting.

"Nick! Is Ben "

He grabbed her shoulders. "He's in surgery. We tried calling you. The department called his sister and parents."

"Surgery? Family?"

"A building collapsed and— Ben— We pulled him out. We got to him as quickly as we could."

"Is he going to be all right?"

Nick turned his face away. "Answer me, Nick!" Amanda grabbed his arm. "Is he going to be all right?" She pounded her fists on his chest. "God damn you, Nick, answer me!"

But Nick remained silent. Amanda took a few steps back. "Oh no! Don't you dare do this to me. Don't you—"

Nick pulled Amanda close and she rested her forehead on his chest. Tears soaked through his shirt as she wept for her husband.

"He saved a four-year-old tonight. She was snug inside his coat. She's in surgery, too, with several broken bones and burns. She's torn up, but nothing serious."

It was going to be a long night the longest night of their lives.

****

Where does the love of God go when the minutes turn to hours? Amanda sat in the waiting room, Sharon next to her, as they watched the sun's first rays slowly burn away the fading shadows.

It wasn't quite eight in the morning when a doctor walked into the waiting room, and his eyes sought Amanda. The doctor led Amanda into the hallway.

"How's Ben?"

"He just came out from step down. "His right leg is badly crushed and he might lose it. He's banged up something awful inside, with lots of internal bleeding. I'm surprised he's still with us. If we can control infection—and the bleeding. Well, a lot depends on him. Right now, he's stable."

"May I see him?"

"I don't "

"Just for a few minutes— Please?"

The doctor's eyes darted around and finally settled on Amanda. "All right. Two minutes just two. Follow me."

Amanda followed the doctor with Sharon hot on her heels. The doctor wove in and out of a few corridors to Ben's room. The doctor tapped his watch. "Two minutes—"

Amanda walked precariously in his room, her fingers slid along the smoothly painted doorjamb. It was worst than what Amanda's mind could conjure. An oxygen mask covered his black and blue face. Plastic tubes were down his throat. Ben's right hand was bandaged and several plastic bags hung from a post dripped into an IV tube. Aluminum pipes and braces held his right leg immobile. A monitor softly beeped with every heartbeat. Amanda turned away for a second, and then she walked over to his left side away from the IVs and monitor wires. She gently touched his hand.