The Fireproof Girl

by Loretta Lost

  There is no freshly dug dirt to guide me, so I just look directly beneath the letters. Grasping the handle of my shovel firmly, I plant it into the grassy earth and drive it in with the sole of my running shoes. I dig my first few shovelfuls of earth out aggressively before I begin to wonder if I’m crazy again. Is there really something physically buried here, or was it just symbolic?

  I plant the shovel in again, and press down with my sneakers.

  Removing several considerable scoops, I begin to wonder how deep I will dig before giving up. What do I even expect to find? A map to buried treasure? If the map itself is already buried, isn’t that kind of redundant?

  No. I want to find a map to Cole. It’s possible that he managed to come back here and hide something in recent months—a contingency plan of some sort. With Zachary stealing his letters, he needed to make sure that I would be the only one capable of finding his instructions. Whatever it is must be highly classified: copies of evidence he managed to gather on Benjamin, just in case? Something to do with his stressful project just outside of Karachi? I know there’s really big money involved with that.

  Whatever it is, I wonder how he decided to bury it? A USB key sealed in a Ziploc bag would be good enough for me.

  I just need some sort of direction. I need to know where to go next. What to do.

  When several minutes pass and I am still digging, I begin to grow frustrated. He didn’t bury it six feet deep, did he? That seems unnecessary. And what if it was a few inches to the right or the left, and I missed it? I want to scream and pull my hair out in frustration.

  “Damn you, Cole!” I shout into the empty field. “Why do you always have to be so dramatic? Why couldn’t you just send me to a wall safe concealed behind a painting or something? That’s a classic! But no, your death note has to lead me to the middle of a football field. And yes, I do know that Death Note is one of your favorite anime shows. Stop changing the subject!”

  At first, my rambling is kind of fun and relieves some of my stress, but then I am stricken by the idea that I might actually be talking to a ghost or spirit. I shudder and keep digging. That’s not it at all. I just know Cole so well that I can imagine exactly how he’d respond.

  What if there are bones buried here? I don’t know why this thought crosses my mind. It’s a stupid thought, because if Cole killed someone, I am sure he’d find a better place to bury a body than in our old high school football field. I keep digging, getting more annoyed with every scoop.

  It’s not Cole’s fault. Maybe I just misinterpreted his note.

  My emotions are wavering between hopeful and disappointed every time I dig a bit of dirt out. I clench my teeth together and dig faster, trying to make something appear with sheer will. When my shovel clinks against something, I pause, almost in disbelief.

  I toss the shovel aside and kneel down beside the hole I’ve dug, leaning forward and clawing dirt off with my hands. As I uncover a shiny item, I gently brush dirt away with my fingers, feeling a bit like an archeologist discovering evidence of ancient civilizations that lived beneath my high school. There should be a posh voice in my head doing a BBC voiceover for this dig.

  As Sophie carefully uncovers the urn, it looks to be made of a glass material that was popular for alcoholic beverages in the twenty-first century. This particular transparent cylinder is branded with the mark of its manufacturer, and logos celebrating libations, much like the designs seen on ancient Grecian jugs depicting Bacchus or Dionysus. Upon careful inspection, as she removes the bottle, it seems to contain a small item that Sophie estimates to be a digital key holding important data that could be used to incriminate…

  Oh, hell no.

  Sitting back abruptly in the dirt, I stare at the item in my hands. The first crushing realization is that it is not something Cole planted here recently. It’s an old vodka bottle belonging to Professor Brown. Cole must have left this here for me back when we were still in high school—before he was sent to prison.

  This shatters my hopes a little.

  There is no USB key. No flash drive. No SD card. Just a few pieces of paper rolled up. A message in a vodka bottle. If it was written in 2003, around the time that Cole carved our initials into the goal post, it probably won’t have any useful information. It won’t lead me directly to Cole, or to the person who made an attempt on his life, or to any of the reasons behind any of this.

  It’s going to be useless.

  And Cole might actually be dead.

  I sit on the ground for a minute, with the vodka bottle lying in the grass before me. I almost wish that it still contained some vodka. It takes several deep breaths before I can gather the courage to reach forward and unscrew the rusted cap. The paper inside is yellowed with age. I think I know what this is.

  Someday, when we’re both ready, let’s promise that we’ll come back here. Then, if we’re both confident that we are strong enough, we’ll take the pin out of the grenade.

  Whatever is contained in this letter is so overwhelming that Cole had to keep it locked up for over a decade. We were supposed to be dealing with all of this together, but now I’m here—alone. At least he remembered.

  I bet you’re going to forget all about this in a few days.

  Although we have been through so much together, we never really went back to that moment and reconsidered our decision. Sliding my fingers into the vodka bottle, I carefully retrieve the tender old paper and remove it from the bottle. I unroll it so that I can read the words, and use my camera flash to help me in the darkness of the field.

  Holding my breath, I try to prepare myself for this. But you can never be prepared for unleashing emotional grenades; especially when your emotions are already in turmoil.

  Dear Scarlett,

  Do you want to know a secret? Everything I’ve ever done in my life, from the moment we first, has been for you.

  I don’t know how many years it will be until you open up this bottle, but I do know one thing. Everything I do from this moment, to the day I finally inform you of this letter’s existence—it will all be for you. And everything I do after you read this letter—it will still be for you.

  The question is this:

  Is it enough?

  I have to pause and look away, because all my airways feel suddenly very constricted. I try, but I am unable to breathe. Is it enough? Is he serious? He was always way more than enough. Even if he did the bare minimum he was capable of doing, it was more than most men giving every ounce of their effort.

  And when he really tried?

  He could build entire cities.

  Who does something like this? Something so impossibly romantic. Who buries a love letter in a time capsule for the girl he likes in high school? Who still loves that same girl, thirteen years later, and still writes her letters once a week?

  This is hard. I would love nothing more than to just put this letter in my pocket and walk away. Maybe I could look at it later when I am drunk and emotionally numb. It’s not important. These words are purely the sentimental ramblings of a fifteen year old boy, and can offer nothing to the investigation. But if Cole sent me all this way, I owe it to him to read it. I clench my teeth together as I allow the pin to slide out of the grenade.

  You are the love of my life, Scarlett. I knew that you were going to be from the first time I saw you. I know that it was destiny for us to meet, at precisely the moment we did. I know that you knew it, too.

  Do you know how broken I was? I was lost, and floundering, and pretending to function. I couldn’t sleep. But the day you walked into my world, I was instantly a better person. Just being close to you made me stronger. Your love gave me purpose, and I am always motivated and excited when I’m close to you.

  I will always remember how the earth moved when you touched my hand.

  That was all you, Scar. The earth shakes just for you.

  A chill runs through my spine at his mention of the event. Especially in light of what happened today, I feel like it is fate
that I should find this bottle now. Will this help me to understand what the earthquakes mean? Is there a key or a legend enclosed? Did I interpret the signs correctly? I am curious, and I want to know more. Cole always had all the answers.

  The words of this letter are shockingly relevant—pun intended—and I feel myself needing to pause every few sentences to process them and breathe.

  Maybe the first earthquake was our theme song, and the one today was just a reprise.

  This idea makes me smile.

  Most couples have a song, don’t they? We have a natural disaster.

  Please don’t hate me for waiting. Don’t hate me for not telling you all this today, or yesterday. I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. But the truth is that I don’t know what the future holds in store for us and I need to know that before I make any more promises.

  If I can’t be the person I need to be, then I will never tell you about this letter. But if you’re reading this, I hope you know that you’re in a lot of trouble.

  When I wrote these words sealed them away in this bottle, I also vowed to lock away some of my deeper feelings for you. Because frankly, I’m scared shitless about how much I feel for you, and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.

  Young love? Does that ever work out? You just turned fourteen yesterday, Scar. We’re both pretty smart, at least academically. But emotionally, I think that we know nothing at all.

  I just want us to last. I just want it to be us, at the end of our lives, together. If we started now, how high are the chances that we would fuck it up? Pretty high, I think. Neither of us has any experience with being in a relationship.

  I don’t want to be your guinea pig. I don’t want to be your crash test dummy. I want you to go out into the world and love others, and get your heart broken, and fail. I want to be there to pick up the pieces, every time. I want you to see what other men are like, so you never wonder if the grass is greener with someone else.

  We need to learn how to love, before we can love each other.

  If you’ve opened this letter, it means that I’m going to make you mine, Scarlett. I’m going to stop holding back and hit you with all of my passion and devotion. I’m going to make love to you tonight, and every single night from now on.

  It’s already killing me not to touch you, sometimes. I feel like once I started, I would never be able to stop. Do you feel the same, Scar? If you don’t, I’ll find a way to make you fall in love with me. I’ll dedicate my whole life to it, every waking minute.

  There’s no going back now. I’m never letting go of you, and never letting anything come between us. I would do anything to protect you, and protect our love. I would kill for us to be together. I would die.

  I would conquer the world for you.

  “You stupid, fucking bastard!” I curse, as tears flood my eyes. I look around for something to take out my frustrations on. Dropping my phone, I grab Mr. Brown’s old vodka bottle and slam it into the goal post. The glass makes a satisfying sound as it smashes into smithereens. “I hate you, Cole!” I scream into the empty football field. “You stupid asshole. Why did you do this to us? You wasted all the time we could have had. I was ready. I was always ready! I didn’t want you to conquer the fucking world for me. I just wanted you. Totally and completely, one hundred percent all-in.”

  At the same time, I know it’s true. He’s right. Cole was wise beyond his years, and if we had tried to begin, back then… there’s a good chance that everything would have been ruined. Cole might never have been able to accomplish as much as he did, and build so many great monuments in dozens of countries. I might not have an amazing job for the CIA.

  I know he did it to protect me. To protect us both.

  This letter is like an insurance policy for our hearts. By sending me here, Cole is cashing in his insurance policy. What does that mean? Who is going to reimburse me for all the love that has been lost over the years? All the love that was promised and never realized?

  Cole better be alive. When I see him again, I’m going to punch him right in his stupid face.

  Against my better judgment, my eyes are drawn back to the letter. My hand shakes as I retrieve my phone flashlight.

  I keep on reading.

  There are going to be dark times ahead. But if you’re reading this, it means that I am absolutely certain that we can get through anything. I never enter an arrangement unless I feel that success is guaranteed, because I cannot abide failure.

  I don’t know if I’ve already said these things out loud, because you were just so beautiful and brilliant that I couldn’t resist. But here they are anyway, in writing.

  Are we older now, Scar? Are we strong, and rich, and stable? Are we still best friends?

  Okay. At the time of writing this, maybe we’re not best friends yet, but we will be soon. Like, maybe tomorrow. I’m going to be the best friend you ever had, for the rest of your life.

  There’s no getting rid of me, my love.

  I hope to god that something critical didn’t change, that could get in the way of my plans for us. But it doesn’t matter. I am ready, and it is time to give us a try. To really give it a try. You let many buried truths out of the bottle when you opened it. You’ve released them, and they are spoken, and they are real.

  And they cannot be denied.

  I will wait for you. I may only be two years older than you, but I feel like I have lived a lot more in some respects, and I know what I want. What I want is you. Even if it takes you a decade to find this bottle under the football field, I will wait for you. One decade, or two, or three—but please don’t make me wait that long. I will lose my mind.

  Because from now on, you’re my end game. You’re the girl of my dreams, my partner in crime, and my muse.

  Someday, Scarlett Smith, I’m going to marry you. I hope you don’t mind. I’m going to be the father of your children. I hope that sounds cool. We are going to be a family. A real family, like the one I once had. Like the one you should have had. Who, other than us, deserves this more? Who, other than us, can value this more?

  We will have the greatest love you’ve ever known. The greatest love you’ve ever seen. It will be just like those books you’re always reading, except better—because it’s truth. I can feel it already, right here, between us, brimming, teeming, bursting at the seams. Can you feel it, Scar?

  And if somehow, life is cruel enough to separate us… rest assured that there is nothing to worry about. Nothing can keep us apart for too long. Not hell or high water, meteor showers, the rapture, or the goddamned apocalypse.

  You can look for me at the end of the earth, if it ever comes to that.

  I’ll always be there, waiting for you.

  Unconditionally yours,

  Cole Hunter

  He signed it with a bloody thumbprint. I bring the letter to my lips, and hold it there for a moment, like a fourteen-year-old girl.

  I did not realize how tightly I was clenching the paper and my cell phone until I read the final words, and the muscle tension in my hands disappeared. Exhaling, I allow my whole body to sag and collapse backward onto the grass. I look up at the stars and l feel a laugh rumble in my throat. The laughter grows until I am laughing loudly, hysterically with my arms stretched out.

  “Fine!” I say with a smile up at the sky. “I’ll look for you at the end of the earth. But you better be alive, buddy. You better be. You can’t just give a girl a letter like this and die.”

  Alone in the middle of the football field, I hug the yellowed paper against my chest. I forgot the way that everything Cole says and writes sounds like wedding vows. Maybe that’s the reason I barely noticed that Zachary was trying to suggest spending our lives together. When I’ve already had one man in my life who made such honest and devoted vows of loyalty—vows that he never broke—how could I even notice the efforts of anyone else?

  I inhale deeply, and somehow, the air tastes fresher than it has ever been.

  No one can see, so I can just be h
onest with myself in this moment. As the clouds drift across the sky, a bit of the moon peeks out and illuminates the sky, highlighting the outlines of the clouds.

  Staring up at the moon makes me feel so peaceful and complete. I don’t get much time to look up at the night sky anymore, at home in DC. But now, precious childhood memories come rushing back to me. I used to go for walks by myself and talk to the moon when I had no home, no friends, and no family. The sense of companionship this gave me was incredibly comforting. The moon always made me feel important, and connected. She made me feel loved.

  How could I ever feel lonely? The moon is the best friend a girl can ask for. How could I ever feel abandoned, or care about the fact that I have no human family? The moon is the best sister a girl can ask for. She always listens, and she always seems to care deeply. Sometimes, I swear she even tries to help out. As I got older, and busier, I forgot the wisdom of my youth.

  “Please let him be okay,” I ask the moon softly. “Wherever he is, please watch over him for me.” Reorganizing the pages of the letter and folding it up carefully, my finger grazes against something cold. I am surprised to feel a metallic item that I hadn’t noticed before, taped to the back of one of the pages. I guess I had been too focused on the words themselves. Getting out my phone camera, I shine a light on the paper to reveal a delicate gold chain with a crescent shaped pendant. There looks to be a diamond in the center of the crescent moon.

  It is a familiar symbol, and I get a little shiver of amazement. How does Cole know exactly what would mean the most to me in every moment? Being psychic or telepathic is one thing, but adding time travel to that is way too overpowered. I had just been speaking to the moon an instant before finding this! My fingers caress the pendant lovingly. This is more than déjà vu. This is more than magic. This is more than coincidence, fate, or divine intervention. This is more than anything imaginable, other than the most elusive and precious power known to man: