Cause to Burn

by Mairsile Leabhair

  The fire cam panned around from Scott’s body to a pile of rubble stacked up in front of the window. Swirls of white smoke danced around the light shining through the opening. Then the camera tilted down sharply, jerked and moved again until it came to rest on Jordy’s face. Even covered by her mask, I could see the apprehension in her eyes.

  “What’s that medal she keeps rubbing?” I asked, leaning closer.

  “Probably her St. Florian Medal,” the chaplain replied, pulling out a necklace from under his shirt and showing it to me. “Most firefighters wear them. St. Florian is the patron saint of firefighters.”

  “Chief,” Jordy said into the camera. “There’s too much blockage for me to get past and my mask won’t reacquire. The building is shuddering again, and I think the floor is about to collapse. Do not risk sending anyone else in here; it’s a death trap.” She paused and drew a raspy breath and then coughed it back out. “So, I think this is it for me. All my notes on the serial arsonist are on my desk. He’s probably not involved with this fire, but I don’t think it was started by accident, so make sure someone picks up the investigation and catches that son of a bitch.” Another pause where I heard her struggle for air. Tears cascaded down my cheeks as I held onto the chaplain’s arm. “Uncle Joe,” she continued, “it’s been a real privilege to have served beside you. Tell my mother that I love her and…” The radio crackled and then fell silent, the monitor went black.

  “Jordy! Hang on, damn it!” Joe shouted into his radio, but no response came back. With tears in his own eyes, he took a few steps toward the building, then turned and shouted to be heard above the noise, “I need volunteers—”

  Every hand shot up in the air, including my own.

  Chapter Five

  Jordyn Stringfellow

  Death is an inevitable part of life. You can’t escape it. It’s going to happen. The trick is to be in your eighties or nineties when death comes, after having lived a purposeful life. Not in your sixties when you’re about to retire, like Scott. Or in your twenties when you’ve barely tapped into your purposefulness, as was my case. But, at that moment, as I sat beside his body, I was sure I was going to die.

  My mask wouldn’t reacquire, allowing the precious air to escape, the floor was creaking and cracking, and I couldn’t move any further because the path was blocked. Of course, I was going to die and the only ones who would grieve for me were my mother and Uncle Joe. Maybe Tina would shed a tear or two, on her flight to Germany. Not that I wanted people grieving for me, but I remembered feeling comforted by the mourners at my father’s funeral. It meant he was well liked and respected.

  When you're sixteen and you see the department chaplain walking up to your front door, in full dress uniform, you know right away what that means. Your dad is dead. I remembered that day like it was yesterday. As we did every morning, we ate breakfast together before Dad went to the station, Mom went to the bank where she was a compliance officer, and I went to school. That morning, Dad was yelling at me about the B- I got on an algebra test. Then his cell phone rang. It was the fire chief. Dad kissed Mom, patted me on the shoulder, and rushed out the door. That was the last time I saw him alive. It was a closed-casket affair, but I went to the funeral home, alone, and asked to look inside the casket. That image of his charred remains was seared into my mind, and I had nightmares for months afterward. It was also the reason I became a firefighter. I wanted to carry on in my father's stead. Now, as I sat here trying to catch my breath, the only thing I could think of was my mother having to go through this all over again. I'm so sorry, Mom.

  I could see the fire spreading across the ceiling of the third floor even as the water from the hoses outside chased after it. Luckily, I guess you could call it luck, I was on the second floor sitting under a portion of the ceiling that had not collapsed so I wasn’t being drenched by the water.

  I looked at my father’s picture, silently asking him to help me, then I put my helmet back on, tightened the straps, and sat back against a piece of wooden beam to wait. Would I see angels? God, please, let it be angels from heaven and not those other guys. I closed my eyes and listened to the muffled sounds of sirens in the distance, knowing how much I was going to miss that sound. Then I realized it was my cell phone ringing. God, I hope it’s not my mother. I can’t… I just can’t tell her goodbye. In answer to my prayer, it wasn’t her.

  I almost didn’t answer it because I didn’t recognize the number. Then I answered it anyway, thinking maybe someone was calling to tell me that I’d just won the lottery. That would be just my luck. It wouldn’t be surprising, considering the way my life had been going lately. I yanked my helmet off and then my mask and air tank. Damn thing wasn’t working right anyway. Coughing from the dirt I had just breathed in, I answered the phone.

  “Jordy! Jordy, can you hear me?”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s me, Robbie.”

  “Uh, I’m kind of busy right now, Robbie, can I call you back after I get to heaven?” I quipped, annoyed that it was the reporter calling to get the final words of a dying firefighter.

  “But I’m trying to help you.”

  “Okay, I could really use a stiff drink right now. Oh, and maybe some clean air. And could you stop my girlfriend from moving to Germany? Yeah, that would be a lot of help.”

  “Don’t be a jerk. Like I said, I’m trying to help you,” Roberta said acidly. “Volunteers are on their way up to get you out of there. You just need to hang on, okay?”

  I sat straight up and barked into the phone, “Damn it, I told Uncle Joe that it was too dangerous.”

  “They all know the risks and they volunteered anyway, so shut up and get ready. Help is on the way.”

  In spite of myself, I smiled at her determination. “Hang on a second,” I ordered and then put the phone on speaker and placed it on the floor. I pulled the regulator from my mask and then pulled the air tank closer to me. There was no regulator mouthpiece like a scuba diver’s apparatus had, so I needed to hold my hands over it to get a good seal around my mouth. I manually puffed air into my lungs a couple of times, then picked up the cell phone, holding it in one hand and the regulator in the other.

  “Okay, tell me what the plan is,” I said, grateful for connection to the outside world.

  “According to the chief, it’s a two pronged attack. From the second floor window and from the stairwell to the second floor.”

  “No, damn it. The stairwell is on the opposite side of the building and the flooring is unstable.” I took a quick drag from the regulator. “Put him on the phone; I want to talk to him.”

  “He’s busy getting suited up but he asked me to keep you company until they get there.”

  “Oh, God. No, please, Robbie. You have to stop him. It’s too dangerous.”

  “He said if you said that for me to tell you to give him a little credit,” she said lightly. “He’s not going in alone, Jordy. Every firefighter out here volunteered to go and he picked a couple of them to accompany him, while another group makes their way up the stairwell.”

  I shook my head, though she couldn’t see it. “No, not for me. I don’t want them risking their lives for me.”

  “Jordy,” she began softly, “you wouldn’t leave Scott’s body. What makes you think any of your brothers would leave you?”

  “I, uh…” She was telling me what I already knew, but I didn’t want to hear it. If anything happened to Uncle Joe, because of me, I couldn’t live with myself. But then, that would be a moot point if I didn’t get out of here. The heat was becoming intense, and the fire up above was eating away at the oxygen.

  “Jordy, are you there?”

  “What? Oh, yeah, I’m still here.”

  “So, can I asked you a personal question?” she asked.

  “Why not, I’ve got nothing else to do,” I retorted.

  “When you were drinking earlier. You’re not a…, I mean, you don’t drink all…”

  She tapered off, and I laughed w
hen I realized what she was asking.

  “No, I’m not an alcoholic. I haven’t had that much to drink since last New Year’s Eve.”

  “Then why were you? I mean, if it’s not too personal.”

  The kindness and concern in her voice and the fact that I was sure I would die, convinced me that I could confide in her. Besides, I realized how much I was craving the personal contact. It was keeping me calm. “It is too personal but it doesn’t really matter now. My partner dumped me, just as I was about to propose to her.”

  “Oh, no, that bitch!” Robbie exclaimed.

  I threw my head back and laughed until I choked on the dust. After a quick puff on the regulator, I was still chuckling when I said, “Thanks, I needed that.”

  “Had you been together long?” she asked.

  I wondered if it was curiosity on her part or if she was just trying to keep me distracted. Probably a little bit of both and, again I found myself grateful for the connection. “We were together for a year and I thought I knew what she wanted, but obviously I was wrong.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I thought you weren’t a reporter anymore,” I teased, watching as a piece of burning wood fell from the third-floor ceiling and sent sparks in every direction when it hit the floor several feet in front of me. It was a macabre sight, as the burning wood fell into the pool of blood where Scott had been killed and was extinguished. I looked at Scott’s body lying beside me. I owe you one, buddy.

  “Jordy?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. So, anyway,” I continued, not wanting to worry her with the fact that the sky was falling. “I wanted to settle down and make a commitment. She wanted to go to Germany and advance her career.”

  There was a moment of silence, and I thought the connection had ended. Finally, she said, “Then go to Germany with her. If you love her enough to marry her, you’d give up everything to be with her, wouldn’t you?”

  Robbie had a point. One that I probably would have considered if I hadn’t been so busy feeling sorry for myself. “Well, that works both ways, you know?” I rebutted. “She should have wanted to stay here with me.”

  “So, it comes down to neither of you wanting to give up your careers. Okay, now, please don’t be upset by this, it’s strictly my opinion, but if it was true love, a love so deep that the thought of not being with her caused your heart to cry out, you’d quit your job and go with her. I mean, at least I would.”

  “Even if it were one-sided?” I asked trying to defend my reasons for staying.

  “I’m confused,” she said. “Even if it were one-sided, wouldn’t you two still be together? Wouldn’t one of you have given up everything for the other?”

  Yeah, I feel like an idiot.

  “I mean, when you love someone,” she continued. “You love them without hesitation. Without thought or purpose other than to love her. Otherwise, it isn’t true love.”

  “Hold on a second…” I mumbled, placing the phone on my lap and taking a deep breath from the regulator so I could think. Is she right? Was it just a comfortable place that Tina and I had built together to fill a need? Otherwise, why didn’t I go after her? I didn’t even ask her not to go because I was afraid of her answer. Would she have stayed if I had?

  “Jordy? Jordy, are you there?”

  I grabbed the phone up. “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “So, when you get out of there, how about I buy the first round?” Robbie asked, thankfully changing the subject.

  “You got a deal,” I replied, gasping for air. “As long as you turn your reporter switch off first.”

  “Well, okay. But just for the first round,” she teased.

  Suddenly, I heard shouting and then the roar of a chainsaw. “Robbie, I can hear them out there,” I shouted to be heard over the noise. I felt a surge of adrenaline at the thought of getting out of here. “I’m going to hang up now, Robbie.”

  If she replied, I couldn’t hear her because of the saw. I ended the call and tucked the phone into my pocket. Then I shrugged into the SCBA gear and, leaning on my haunches, I began pulling debris from the blockage. If I couldn’t keep them from risking their lives for me then I had to help them rescue me. With renewed hope, I grabbed planks and splintered boards from as high up as I could reach and tossed them to the side. I’d hold my breath and remove two or three boards, whatever was loose and accessible, and then I’d take a puff of air. My tank began beeping and flashing a red LED light. It was telling me I was running out of air.

  “Damn it!” I shouted, frustrated and afraid. People were trying to get to me and I run out of air? How hilarious was that. Help was just a few feet away and I needed to find a way to stay alive until they could get here. What would Dad do? Ironically, Dad was a bad example because he died in a fire.

  “Well, Scott,” I said, without looking at him. “I always wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps.” I laughed at the ludicrousness and for an instant, I thought I heard Robbie telling me to stop being a jerk. Strangely, I found comfort in that. She was right; I needed to focus. I looked around, hoping for an idea when I looked back at Scott’s body. “Scott!” I shouted, spotting his SCBA tank and the regulator entangled in his arms. His mask was shattered but maybe his tank was still working.

  I pulled the regulator from his mask and pumped the manual button as I brought it to my mouth. Air! Inhaling deeply, I held my breath as I unfastened my tank and set it to the side. Then without forethought, I rolled Scott’s limp body over and took off his tank, untangling the regulator from his arm. Thanks, Scott. You saved my life. I hooked the tank to my back and inhaled.

  “Jordy!” Uncle Joe called. It sounded like he was talking through a bullhorn. “We’ll be there in a minute. Hang on.”

  A large grin spread across my face as I got back to removing debris. I wasn’t sure what Uncle Joe’s plan was other than to cut a path through the rubble to me. With renewed motivation, I carefully moved broken boards and ceiling panels away from the top of the pile, inching closer to the wall where the window was. Finally, I could peer over the top of the drywall and splintered, broken joists. I didn’t like what I saw. The third-floor window that Scott and I had climbed through was hidden behind another wall that was wedged against the outer wall. There was also a load-bearing beam leaning against the new wall, bracing it and what was left of the third-floor ceiling up. I didn’t think that I would be able to move it by myself and even if I could, it was holding up the section of ceiling over my head. Cut into it and the rest of the third-floor comes crashing down on top of me.

  “Shit,” I grunted to myself. I took a deep draw on the regulator and then pulled my cell phone out of my pocket again. I started to call Uncle Joe and then realized he wouldn’t be able to hear me with the chainsaw running, so I called Robbie by clicking on the recent call tab and hitting her number. Then I put it on Facetime.

  “Hello?”

  “Robbie, can you see me? I need to show Uncle Joe something. Hurry, it’s urgent.”

  “Yes, I can see you. Hold on a second.” A moment later I could see her face on my cell phone. Thank God. “Okay, let me get you over to Joe,” she said, and held the phone out as she took off running, but I could still see her. I was trapped in a life or death situation, hurting from a breakup not of my doing, and all of that was forgotten as I watched Robbie’s breasts bounce as she ran. I must be delirious, or worse, a pervert… and at this particular moment, I am okay with that. At least I’ll die with a smile on my face.

  Robbie handed the phone off to Laurie, who handed it up to Donny, who gave me a thumbs-up before he climbed the ladder and handed it over to Uncle Joe. I could see that he was in full bunker gear, ready to come in here after me. He tapped on a shoulder of someone I couldn’t see and ran his hand across his throat. The chainsaw sputtered and stopped.

  “Jordy, are you all right?” Uncle Joe said, holding the camera up to his nose.

  “I’m okay, Chief. Could you hold the phone out so I can see you?”
<
br />   “Oh, right,” he said, moving the cell phone back from his face. “Okay, what’s the situation?”

  “There’s a wall, approximately six feet by seven, wedged in front of the window with a load-bearing beam holding it up. Here, let me show you.” I panned the cell phone camera over the debris and up the wall to the third-floor ceiling. “If you cut the beam, the whole damn thing will cave in.”

  “Oh, shit,” I heard him say, and then he cleared his throat. He was worried, I could tell, and now, so was I, even more so. “Okay, don’t worry, I’ve got a plan B.”

  “Do you mean coming up through the stairwell?” I asked. “Because it was blocked.”

  “No, that plan didn’t work out,” he said as he climbed down the ladder. “Keep pumping water on the ceiling up there.” I heard him say, but could no longer see him. The camera was moving all over the place as he climbed down. “Donny, I need you,” he yelled, hurting my ears. He finally brought the camera back to his face and I could see he was back on the ground. “Okay, so plan C it is,” he quipped, smiling at me. “We’re going to cut a hole in your floor from underneath and you’ll climb through it.”

  “Wait, what? Isn’t the first floor compromised?”

  “You let me worry about that,” he answered.

  “Damn it, Uncle Joe, I won’t let you—”

  “That’s Chief Tripp to you and you’re in no position to stop me, so shut up and point the camera at the floor. I want to see the best place to cut.”

  Reluctantly, I did as I was told. After taking a breath of air, I stood up and took a few steps forward, pointing the phone at the floor. I could hear him talking with someone and I knew he was probably looking at the blueprints to the building.

  A cloud of smoke wafted past me so I squatted down, just as a loud cracking and popping sound overhead drew my attention. I looked at the ceiling two stories up and a burning, load-bearing chunk of wood was barreling straight toward me. I jumped, diving to the side and landing hard on my stomach. Dirt and debris filled the air, choking what little air I had left in my lungs after hitting the floor so hard. Grabbing the regulator, I inhaled quickly, which caused me to choke even more. When I trained as a firefighter, they put me in exactly this kind of situation. They taught me that controlling my mind, my breathing, my panic, would save my life. I forced myself to calm down and breathe slowly, deliberately, until I could breathe in enough air to stop the tingling in my oxygen-deprived body. Once the dust had settled down, I looked up and there was a gaping hole in the roof. I could see that the sun had come up. Normally, that would be a welcomed sight, but in this case, it meant the building was coming down piece by piece. I was out of time.