by Kurt Gepner
Hank thrust out his hands and Salvador handed over the toddler. The child didn’t seem to be breathing. Once more, he tried to rouse the woman. Her eyes fluttered open. "You need to climb down the ladder!" He shouted. She was disoriented. "Your house is on fire!" She nodded and sat up, coughing. He took his mask off her face. "Go through the window and down the ladder!" She nodded again. Hank was there to steady her as she crawled through the low opening. Then she climbed down between his arms, coughing violently.
He wouldn’t be able to climb through the window while wearing his air tank, so Salvador took a few breaths from it and slipped it off. Sticking his head out the window, he looked for a clear spot and tossed the tank down into the grass, followed by his extinguisher. Then he extracted himself from the burning house.
Camille was there with Evie, helping the woman and children. Hank handed Salvador his tanks. Then with crowbar and kitchen extinguisher in hand, and another sopping wet blanket over his shoulder, he ran through a side gate. Salvador threw the straps of his air tank over his shoulders and chased after Hank.
The heat of the flames had broken out the windows of Dale’s house. Heavy rains hissed against the licking fire. Hank wrapped the blanket over his head and around his shoulders. The rain was so heavy that nothing could hope to stay dry after being exposed to it for only a few moments. He was going to plow through the front door, but Salvador stopped him and pointed out some key signs that it would be too dangerous a route.
"Their back door," Hank said, "leads straight down to their bedroom. I don’t think they have gas heat, but they got a mean dog."
Around the house, to the left, their approach was met by a large black and tan Rottweiler. It barked furiously at them from behind the side gate. "Hey there Shelby," Hank said in a sweet tone of voice. "We’ve got to get in there to save your daddy."
When he attempted to lift the gate latch, Shelby lunged and snapped for his finger. Hank jerked his hand back. "Son-of-a-bitch!"
"Use the extinguisher," Salvador suggested.
Hank grimaced. "I can’t get the gate open, or I would use it on her."
"No," Salvador shook his head. "I mean shoot her with it."
"Right!" Hank pointed the nozzle at the barking dog. The cold blast of carbon dioxide drove the dog away with a yelp. Hank opened the gate and they ran in. Shelby rushed them, barking and snapping. Another blast from the extinguisher again drove her away. Trying the knob, Hank said, "It’s locked."
Salvador didn’t hesitate to kick in the door and run in the house. While Hank held off the angry dog, he could hear his son-in-law’s extinguisher blasting a path through the flames. Shelby attempted two more attacks before giving up and allowing Hank the chance to go in. Pulling his wet blanket tight, he went to the door and took a deep breath of fresh air. As he was about to plunge into the darkness, his son-in-law’s yellow helmet emerged from the smoke. Over his shoulder was an arm and attached to that, wearing Salvador’s mask, was his friend and neighbor, Dale.
Dale was almost entirely disabled from smoke inhalation. Hank took the man’s free arm and threw it over his shoulder, helping to support his neighbor’s weight. Together, Hank and Salvador dragged the nearly comatose man across the street to the Shumway home. They sat him on the front steps, out of the torrential rain. "Is there any other house around here where someone might be inside?" Salvador asked, urgently.
"I don’t know," Hank said as he ran out to the street. Dale was beginning to cough and spit out thick, brown phlegm on the ground. Standing in the center of the road, where Salvador had left her, Hank saw his neighbor watching her house burn to the ground. "Pauline, I’m so sorry for you," he said as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She leaned against him, sobbing.
"Why?" she sputtered. "Why is this happening?"
"I’m not sure," Hank said. "Is Gerry home?" he asked, nodding toward the house at the end of the block.
"No," she shook her head. "He’s at therapy today."
"Where’s Pirate," Hank asked about his neighbor’s dog.
Pauline heaved another sob. "He keeps him inside when he’s away."
Hank looked over at the last two houses. Gerry lived on the corner and Debbie lived between him and Pauline. Debbie also kept her dogs inside while she was at work. All of the houses on that side of the street were spitting flames against the rain. There was nothing alive in those infernos. "Come on, Pauline. Come inside." He guided the older woman to his open door.
They were stepping past the open gate, when a deafening shriek screamed over their heads. Eyes snapped to the sky in time to see the tail of a passenger jet clear the house by about thirty feet. The right wing severed the Douglas fir on the corner of the next lot and sent the top fifty feet spinning like a twig. Less than a second later, a thunderous explosion rocked the ground under their feet. Hank ran to the corner of the block.
"Holy shit!" Salvador exclaimed, suddenly beside him.
"That was the hospital," Hank said in a daze.
"Holy shit!" Salvador again exclaimed.
A ball of oily, thick flame climbed high into the sky. Everywhere around them, house fires burned. But now, a few blocks west, there was a wall of burning Hell. The heat from the jet fuel could be felt over that of the house burning right next to them.
"What the fuck is going on?" Salvador asked.
"I think we’ve been attacked," Hank said with cracking voice. "Maybe somebody took advantage of the screwy weather. I… I don’t know for sure, but I’d say we’ve just been nuked."
"What the Hell?" Salvador stood back from Hank. "You can’t be right! There was no flash. Where’s the blast?" he demanded.
"We wouldn’t have to see it," Hank said in response. "If it was high enough, it could be a thousand miles away."
"How could it have caused all this from that far away?" Salvador asked skeptically.
"I’ve read about it. A high-altitude nuclear blast would cause an EMP," Hank said.
Looking at his father-in-law with confusion, Salvador asked, "A what?"
"A… An Electro-Magnetic Pulse. It would cause a huge power feedback, destroy circuitry and blow out any electronics plugged into the grid," explained Hank.
"That’s what it looks like," Salvador dismally observed. "Who would do this? Why?"
"How the Hell should I know!" Hank threw up his arms. "I’m sure we’ve pissed off somebody enough to nuke us. But I’m not even sure that’s what happened."
Salvador sat down in a puddle of water and held his head. "I can’t believe this," he said.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Help!" A woman screamed from the direction of the plane crash. Hank yanked Salvador to his feet and they ran toward the scream. "Help! Somebody, help!" The woman called over and over. They ran a block up 33rd Street, toward the fiery blaze of the crash. They were less than a block from the Hell-fire and the blanket Hank still wore over his shoulders was beginning to steam from the intense heat.
Up Hydrangea Street they ran toward the scream for help. Halfway up the block, a dark haired woman dressed in a lilac blazer and skirt was desperately tugging on a jagged length of steel that had skewered a man to a large ancient tree. The man struggling to escape the steel lance was grossly obese.
Pain creased the man’s face as his feet scrambled on the wet roots. Every time he slipped, his full weight pressed on the piece of jagged steel that held him aloft. The blast, or the force of the hurling spear had lifted him high enough that his feet were only able to reach the portion of the trunk where the tree widened near the roots.
When the woman saw Salvador and Hank running toward her, she let go of the jagged rod and ran toward them. "Thank God!" She yelled and threw her arms around Salvador. He pushed her aside and ran to the man pinned on the tree. Grabbing ahold of the thick iron lance, he gave a mighty pull.
"Hank!" He called, but Hank was already panting up to him. Salvador quickly looked the impaled man over. As he inspected, he asked the man, "What’s your name?"
"Brian!" The man grunted through his pain, kicking his feet to keep his weight off the metal spike.
"Brian," Salvador said in a matter-of-fact tone. "If I had the right kind of equipment, it would hurt a lot getting you down. But it would be quick. It’s just Hank and me and we don’t have the right equipment. Are you ready?"
Brian cried, "Just get me off! I don’t wanna die stuck to a tree."
Salvador nodded and gestured for Hank to grab the jagged metal shaft protruding from the side of Brian’s torso. The two men pulled. When the spear wouldn’t yield, they counted and yanked. Brian howled in pain. Still it would not let go. "Let’s push up and then pull down," Salvador suggested.
When they pushed up, the steel rod budged, just a little. "Now down," Salvador grunted. "Up… Down… Up… Okay, lets pull." Brian’s teeth ground together and he screamed against the pain. The woman vomited. Salvador and Hank pulled. They paused and tried again.
"Okay, let’s pry it up and down some more." Another explosion resounded somewhere nearby. Wind was picking up, throwing the heavy rains at Brian’s face and swirling around cinders from the wildly burning houses across the street. The heat was raising steam on the pavement and the fires hissed against the drenching downpour. "Really heave this time. On three…"
Hank and Salvador pushed up with great growls of force and Brian wailed out his pain. They raised Brian off his footing and then pulled down. With knees bent, Brian sobbed. "Don’t let me die. Don’t let me die!"
"Up!" Salvador commanded. They heaved, again. "We’re not going to let you die, Man! Just don’t give up." Salvador looked at Hank, uncertainty flickering in his dark eyes. Hank returned a look of absolute conviction. Giving his attention back to Brian, Salvador said, "Now listen: We’re going to pull down and give this thing another yank. I think it’ll come out this time. You gotta fall to your right, when it does. You hear me?" Brian panted in delirious agony. "Listen up, Man! If you fall forward, or to your left, this thing’ll kill you! Got it?"
"Yah," Brian said with a margin of lucidity. "Fall right."
"On three…" Salvador and Hank jerked on the shaft with every shred of their might. It let go suddenly and Brian lurched forward. The two men tried to catch him, but he was too large, with too much inertia. All three men staggered, but just as he was pitching forward, Brian twisted himself to his right, landing hard on his right shoulder. Nearly two feet of jagged metal stuck out of his back.
Brian gasped and convulsed like a dying fish. Hank knelt next to him and bundled the wet blanket under his head. Salvador waved the woman over. Her eyes grew larger and she shook her head. "Come here, damn it!" She hobbled over, favoring her right foot. Salvador leaned close to her and said, "Talk to him. Keep him awake." He turned to his father-in-law. "Hank. Come here a minute."
"Try to steady your breathing," he said to Brian. "I’ll be right back." He got up and the woman took his place. Walking over to Salvador, he said, "What do you want to do?"
"Do you have a knife?" Salvador asked.
Hank reached back and opened the sheath on his belt. He pulled out a worn multi-tool and opened it to the knife blade.
"Is it sharp?" Salvador asked.
"I keep it that way," Hank answered.
"Let me have it," Salvador said, holding out his hand. Hank obliged. "If we pull it out, it will tear him up even worse inside. I want you to hold his arms. I’m going to cut his side, right down to the metal. Can’t tell for sure, but I think it’s just through his fat, next to the ribs."
"What if it’s not?" Hank asked.
Salvador just looked at him a moment and strode over to Brian.
"Lady, what’s your name?" the ex-fireman asked the woman who had called for help.
The woman answered with programmed ease. "Candice. Candice Caerson."
"All right, Candice, I want you to do just what I say, okay?" she nodded. "Come over here and sit on his legs. He’s gonna kick and scream and you gotta hold him still." She looked as if she was going to decline, but then knelt daintily next to Brian’s legs and put her hands on his calf, which had a circumference equal to her waist.
Salvador ground his teeth and said, "No! Straddle his legs and hold him tight!" She hesitantly did as ordered, looking ungainly and inept with her lilac skirt riding up her thighs. Her grape-colored, high-heeled shoes, which coordinated perfectly with her frilly blouse, were almost useless for traction.
Hank was already kneeling on the ground in front of Brian. Salvador squatted and looked Brian in the eye. "What are you going to do to me," Brian asked, faintly.
"Brian," Salvador said with that same matter-of-fact voice that he’d first used with him. "This thing is bad and there’s no way to pull it out. The hospital is gone, blown up, and there’s nobody to help. I have to cut it out of you."
"No!" Brian thrashed. Candice knuckled down and held his legs and Hank pinned his wrists. "You’re not a doctor! I’ll sue!" His voice was pitching high with renewed panic as he yelled. "I’ll sue! Don’t cut me!"
Salvador got up and said, "Okay. Let go of him. We’ve helped all we can." Then he started walking back home. He turned and vehemently spat at Hank and Candice, "I’m serious! Leave him! He doesn’t want our help!" Hank looked down at Brian, who looked back with wild fear in his eyes. "Hank! Come on! There’s other people we can help." Salvador began walking again.
"He’s right, Brian," Hank said with compassion. "There’s a lot of people who can use our help. Nobody’s coming to help you, but us." Hank got up.
"You’re lying!" Brian accused. "You’re lying. They’ll be here." Brian looked at Candice. She returned a stricken expression of her own. He looked back up at Hank. "You’re just a couple of freaks who want to cut on me!" He coughed and arched his back, in pain. "Call the cops!" He demanded of Candice. "Call the cops!"
"My phone melted." She said with a surreal drifting lilt.
"You’re in on it, too!" He pulled a leg loose and kicked at her. "Get away from me! Get away!" He kicked like a frightened mule. "Help!" He shouted. "Help! Somebody help!" He kicked Candice away from him and she fell on her back. Brian kept screaming for help.
Assisting Candice to her feet, Hank said, "Come on. My place is just a couple blocks over. It’s dry and safe." He looked down a Brian. "You’d have a chance, if you let us help. You’re just going to die here, if you don’t."
Brian kicked at him. "Get away from me! Somebody help!" He screamed to the burning world around him. Hank walked away and moments later, Candice followed.
Hank trotted up to Salvador and asked in a low voice, "You don’t really mean to leave him there, do you?"
Salvador looked grim. "No. But I don’t want to waste my time with him, either. There’s gonna be a lot of people who need help."
"So how do you want to do this?" Hank asked. "He’s in shock. Not thinking clear. But you can’t…"
"What’s wrong with you guys?" Candice demanded as she hobbled up to their meeting. "He’ll die, if you leave him there!"
"You’re right!" Hank spun and growled the words at her. "What do you suggest we do? Force him to accept our help?"
"You can’t just leave him!" Candice screamed.
"Are we gone?" Hank said, turning his attention back to Salvador.
"No, but…" Candice could only leave the thought hanging. She looked like a drowned clown. Her dark hair was flat, with bangs hanging over her brow. Her mascara streaked down her face until it faded near her jaw line. She stood with her arms crossed and implored the two men with her large brown eyes, as the rain spilled down her face. "He’s a fireman." She said weakly, and pointed an accusing finger at Salvador.
"Yep." Hank concurred. "And he’s rescued people from two burning houses, already." He looked her squarely in the eye and said, "I’m not trying to be cruel, but you’re wasting our time. We are going to help that man, if he’ll let us." Hank opened his mouth to say more, but couldn’t bring himself to say what would be the obvious alternative. He looked back at Salvador an
d asked, "Are you ready to try again?"
Salvador nodded and they all went back to Brian, who had given up calling for help and was just crying into the saturated blanket. Hank knelt in front of him and said, "I’ve convinced my son-in-law to come back and help you. Do you want us to get that thing out of you?"
Brian was pale. The shock of injury, loss of blood, and complete flood of rain, had sapped him. "Can’t you just pull it out?" Brian asked, his voice thin and meager.
Hank pursed his lips, as if contemplating the option. "We can sure give it a try. There’s about two feet of gnarly steel sticking out your back. I can’t even tell what it might have come from. I’d say you got a fifty-fifty chance that it won’t tear you up inside when we yank it out of you."
Pausing to look across the street at the inferno of houses, he went on. "I’m not a doctor, but I’d bet your odds are a whole lot better if we just take that thing right out of your side." He said the words as if he’d done such a thing dozens of times, but he wasn’t sure that Salvador was right. His uncertainty, he knew, would not help the situation. He had no better ideas, so he bluffed. As an afterthought he added, "It’d probably hurt less, too."
Brian weakly asked, "Can’t you get help? Shouldn’t an ambulance be here by now?"
Hank grimly frowned at him. "Do you hear a siren, or see any paramedics? Do you see anybody, but us?" Taking that moment to look up and down the street, Hank was truly surprised that he spied no other soul. "You got three options, Brian, and you need to choose right now. One: Let us cut it out of you. Two: Let us pull it out of you. Or three: Stay here, in the middle of the road, and die."
"Cut it out," Brian said without hesitation.
"Okay!" Hank snapped his fingers at Candice. "You get on his legs and I’ll take his arms. Quick! Quick!" Hank pulled out his wallet and held it to Brian’s mouth. "It may taste like ass, but it’ll keep you from breaking your teeth."
