by Alex George
We had set the fireworks out in parallel ranks across the hilltop. The final phase would, Lewis had promised me, set the sky alight in a blaze of red, white, and blue—a suitably patriotic finale. As we turned to address the last line of rockets, out of the corner of my eye I caught some movement in the shadows to my right. The far side of the hill, out of sight from where the crowds were sitting, was untouched woodland. It was on the periphery of those trees that I saw something move. I wanted to shine my flashlight down there, but I couldn’t leave Lewis scrabbling around in the dark. Seconds later, the next rocket exploded high above us and illuminated the sky in shimmering cyclones of brilliant white. I glanced back down toward the edge of the forest. There, captured in the fleeting light as clearly as if it were the middle of a summer afternoon, I saw Faye walking backward, her arms stretched out in front of her.
Advancing toward her with sinister, lumbering intent was the dragon.
At that moment the sky returned to darkness and Faye and Nathan vanished back into the shadows. I stood staring at the spot where they had been.
“Robert!” called Lewis sharply.
The flashlight was hanging limply in my hand, forgotten. I directed the beam back at Lewis. He struck another match. Seconds later the next rocket shot into the sky. My eyes were already fixed on the edge of the woods. When the explosion came, Faye and Nathan were caught in the flickering constellation of light, their bodies casting faint shadows across the grass in every direction.
Nathan had caught up with Faye. He was standing in front of her, his wings raised toward her in supplication. Then, to my horror, he stepped forward and tried to grab her. Faye pushed Nathan away with both hands, and he staggered back under the force of her shove. Then the two of them disappeared again into darkness.
I pointed the flashlight at Lewis. “Keep that beam on my hands!” he called. “I can’t see a damn thing!”
“Sorry,” I muttered. I clutched the flashlight tightly, trying to make sense of what I had just seen.
When the next firework exploded high above us, I looked down toward the forest again. Faye had disappeared, and Nathan had fallen to his knees. The dragon’s snout was pressed into the ground. It looked as if he was praying, but it was too late for that.
“Damn,” muttered Lewis. He was glaring at the next rocket in line. “Nothing’s happening.” He began to move back toward it.
“Shouldn’t you wait?” I asked. Lewis had told me countless times never to return to a firework once it had been lit.
“We don’t have time!” he said. “Come closer, will you, and shine the light over here.” I directed the flashlight at the base of the inert rocket. Lewis squinted at it. “I think we got ourselves a dud,” he sighed. He pulled out another match and struck it. “Let me see if I can—”
He never finished his sentence. The rocket exploded with an enormous bang, snapping Lewis’s head back as if he had been punched on the chin. It missed his face by inches. His instinctive recoil caused him to stagger backward, and as he tried to regain his balance, his fingers let go of the burning match. The naked flame arced through the air until it landed inside a cardboard box that lay a few feet behind where we were standing.
The box was full of extra fireworks.
“Aw, shit,” said Lewis.
There was a noise like a very loud cough, accompanied by a muted flash. Then the air was filled with a furious screaming sound as a rocket tried to launch itself out of the box. A second later there was a brilliant eruption of white light.
“Move back!” cried Lewis.
But I could not move. I watched, hypnotized, as the chain reaction of detonations continued to rage, pummeling the insides of the box. Within seconds the cardboard was obliterated. Without the box to contain them, rockets began to explode in every direction. They had been stacked horizontally, and so shot out a few inches above the ground, rather than flying into the sky. Some scudded harmlessly into the nearby grass, but one or two disappeared over the side of the hill and exploded just above the heads of the watching crowd, dangerously close. There was a chorus of frightened shouts as parents dove to protect their children. More rockets escaped from the box and flew in unpredictable trajectories over the crowd. People began to scatter, heading for the safety of the trees as coruscating whirlwinds of fire showered down on them.
“What should we do?” I yelled to Lewis.
But Lewis didn’t seem to have heard me. He was standing very still, and then his right hand shot up to his chest. He frowned, tilting his head to one side. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. Then he fell to his knees.
“Lewis!” I shouted.
He turned toward me, an expression of untold sadness on his face. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed forward onto the grass.
TWENTY-NINE
It was the same hospital.
On my last visit we had exited slowly through the front entrance, blinking into the cold winter night. No more could be done for us. This time, though, there was still a life to save.
A phalanx of orderlies in green scrubs was waiting for the ambulance as it squealed to a halt in front of the ER. I watched as Lewis was slid onto a waiting gurney. He was gone within seconds, and I was left alone in the harsh neon glare of the ambulance’s interior, staring numbly at the space where my friend had just been.
—
AFTER LEWIS COLLAPSED on the grass I tried to revive him. I rolled him onto his back and began shouting his name and shaking his shoulders. Fireworks were still shooting haphazardly out of the cardboard box. I tried to haul Lewis away from the danger area, but he was too heavy for me to shift. As I swatted helplessly at his chest, yelling at him to wake up, I remembered squatting down next to Nathan’s father after his fall from the Tillys’ roof. I was determined not to let life slip away from Lewis in the same way.
“Lewis!” I shouted. “I’m going to get some help, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.” I put my hand in front of his mouth and could feel the faintest breath on my fingers. He was still alive, at least. I stood up. My nose was running and my eyes had filled with tears. I ran down the hill. The crowds were still scurrying to safety, away from the rockets that were exploding just over their heads. The air was thick with the cries of frightened children. Staff were trying to usher people safely toward the exit. My father should have been directing operations and reassuring anxious guests, but he was nowhere to be seen. I tore through them all and flung open the door to his office. The number for the Haverford Fire Department and Rescue Squad was taped to the wall immediately above the telephone. My voice cracked as I explained what had happened.
Next to the side entrance that Nathan and I used at night there was a bigger gate for delivery trucks. I grabbed the ring of keys that my father kept in the top drawer of his desk and ran there. It took me seven tries to find the key that opened the padlock. I hauled the gate open so the ambulance could drive right in.
By then all the fireworks in the box had finally detonated. Crowds were moving toward the parking lot, grumbling and confused. I ran against the current of people, back up the hill to where Lewis was lying. He hadn’t moved. I knelt down beside his body and put my hand on his chest. He was still breathing. I suddenly knew with absolute certainty that as long as I kept talking, Lewis would stay alive. My words would be his life support. And so I began to babble. I told him that he was going to be all right, that the ambulance would be there soon, that I wouldn’t leave him. I told him about the panicked crowds at the bottom of the hill. I told him about the silent confrontation I had just witnessed between Faye and Nathan. Words spilled out of me, jumbled by fear. I couldn’t tell if Lewis could hear me. I watched his face as I spoke. Occasionally his lips moved a fraction but he let out no more than a faint sigh.
Finally I heard the wail of a siren, and moments later blue lights were flashing at the bottom of the hi
ll. Then there were people swarming around Lewis’s body. A paramedic hurried over to me and asked me what had happened. I did my best to explain. By then Lewis had been strapped onto a stretcher, his mouth hidden beneath a plastic mask. I looked down at him and thought of Liam. My brother’s body had been so tiny and frail by the end. Lewis must have weighed five times as much, but size didn’t matter when you were fighting for your life. The men hoisted Lewis off the ground and set off toward the ambulance.
“Is he going to be all right?” I asked.
“We’ll see,” said the paramedic.
“What happened to him?”
“Looks like your friend had a heart attack.”
Lewis had predicted that he’d have a heart attack that morning, as we had carried the fireworks up the hill. Maybe he had known more than he was letting on. The paramedics let me climb into the back of the ambulance with them. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I didn’t take my eyes off Lewis. I wanted to remember every last contour of his face, each well-worn wrinkle.
—
AFTER LEWIS HAD BEEN bustled through the doors of the ER, I leaned back against the wall of the ambulance. Abandoned on the floor of the vehicle lay Lewis’s enormous boots. I picked them up. The cracked leather was gnarled, the thick brown laces stiff with mud and dust. Their weight was astonishing. No wonder Lewis huffed as he marched through the park, I thought. It must have been like walking with a block of concrete attached to each foot.
Just then a face appeared at the back door of the ambulance. A woman in medical scrubs was smiling at me. “Hey, mister,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“Is Lewis going to be all right?” I asked her.
“He’s in the best hands,” she answered. “They’ll scoot him in, fix him up, and he’ll be right as rain before you know it. Your friend looks as tough as those old boots you’ve got there.” She pointed at Lewis’s footwear.
I smiled at her gratefully. “He is.”
She looked at me. “Does your family know you’re here, honey?”
I shook my head.
“You’d better come inside,” she said. “Let’s find a telephone so you can call home. It’s late.”
“I’m staying here until Lewis is feeling better,” I told her.
“Well, okay. But we still need to let your mom and dad know where you are.”
I followed the woman into the hospital. She led me down a corridor to a small office.
“Here you go,” she said. “Call your folks, okay?”
I picked up the telephone and called the park. After a few moments there was a click, and I heard my father clear his throat and start to talk, relentlessly upbeat. He thanked me for calling Fun-A-Lot, explained that the park was presently closed, and asked me to leave a message. Just before the machine beeped, he urged me to have a wonderful, fun-der-ful day! Tongue-tied, I let the tape run for a few moments. Finally, cautiously, I began to speak. I explained what had happened and told him we were at the hospital. Then I called home. After several rings I heard my mother’s voice, breathless and confused.
“Who is this?” she demanded. In the background I could hear the low drone of voices on the television. I’d woken her up.
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Robert. What time is it? Where are you?”
“I’m at the hospital.”
My mother had suffered through her share of medical emergencies in the middle of the night, and her old instincts kicked right back in. “What’s happened?” she asked, instantly awake. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Is it Dad?” I heard the catch in her voice.
“No, it’s Lewis. He’s had a heart attack. We came here in an ambulance.”
“Oh no,” said my mother. “Poor Lewis.”
I felt tears spring to my eyes. “Nobody’s told me how he’s doing.”
“Where’s your father? Is he there with you?”
“He’s not here. I don’t know where he is.”
“What about Nathan?”
The last time I’d seen Nathan, he had been facedown on the grass in his dragon costume. “He’s not here, either,” I said.
“You’re all on your own,” said my mother. “I’m coming to get you.”
“I’m staying here until I know Lewis is going to be all right,” I told her.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “All right, then,” she said. “We’ll wait together.”
When my mother appeared in the waiting room a half hour later she was laden down with blankets, magazines, and bags of food. “We don’t know how long we might be here for,” she explained, offering me a bar of chocolate. I devoured the candy hungrily. As I watched her lay out provisions, it occurred to me that my mother had already spent far too much time in this hospital. And yet here she was, settling down for another long haul without comment or complaint. I reached out and held her hand tightly.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said. She smiled at me and handed me a blanket.
“Here,” she said. “You’re going to need this.”
—
I SUPPOSE AT SOME POINT I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I felt was a hand on my shoulder. It was my mother. A man in a white coat stood next to her.
“Robert,” said my mother. “This is Dr. Paxley.”
I struggled to my feet, shaking the stiffness out of my bones. “Is Lewis going to be all right?” I asked.
The doctor smiled. “It looks like he’s going to be fine.”
It felt as if I had been waiting to hear those words for my entire life. I stood in front of this kind stranger and began to cry.
Dr. Paxley watched me for a few moments. “Robert, what you did was very brave,” he told me. “You saved Mr. Jenks’s life. If you hadn’t reacted as quickly as you did, we might not have gotten to him in time. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Can I see him?” I asked.
“Well, he’s asleep right now,” said Dr. Paxley. “But he’ll be awake in the morning. I think you should go home with your mother and get some rest until then.”
I shook my head. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”
Dr. Paxley looked at his watch. “You must be exhausted.”
“Can I stay by his bed?” I turned to my mother. “Can I, Mom? Like we used to with Liam?”
My mother and the doctor exchanged glances. “We are used to sleeping in those hospital chairs,” she said.
Ten minutes later we were ushered into a small, dimly lit room. The bed could barely contain Lewis. He lay in an ungainly sprawl beneath the sheets. His face had the same restful look that I had seen in the ambulance. We settled down beside him.
I watched the minute hand of the clock above the door, silently marking off time with each slow sweep of the dial. Now that Lewis was out of immediate danger, I had plenty of things to think about. I looked at my mother, asleep in the chair next to me, and wondered where my father was. He should have been there, not her. With every hour that passed without him, twin knots of shame and disappointment grew, thorny and entangled, in my chest.
And Nathan, where was he?
THIRTY
At about six o’clock in the morning, the silence of the hospital room was broken by a wet, rasping cough. I turned toward the bed and saw Lewis watching me.
“Lewis,” I said softly.
“Robert. What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. Then he saw my mother, who was still asleep in her chair. “And what the hell is she doing here?” He paused for a moment. “Scratch those two questions,” he told me. “I’ve got a better one. What the hell am I doing here?”
“You had a heart attack,” I said. “Don’t you remember?”
“That was a heart attack?” said Lewis.
“The doctor says you’re going to b
e okay.”
Lewis winced. “The last thing I remember, I was standing on top of the hill. That box of rockets—”
“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Nobody was hurt. Well, except for you.”
Lewis lay back in his pillows and sighed. “I should know better than to drop a burning match around fireworks,” he said, and then he erupted into another fit of coughing, loud enough to wake my mother.
“Lewis,” she yawned, “how are you feeling?”
“A little beaten up, to be honest, Mrs. Carter,” said Lewis. He coughed again, grimacing as he did so. “There was no need for you to stay.”
She smiled. “Robert wanted to be here when you woke up. I was happy to keep him company.”
Lewis’s eyes fell back on me. “Thanks, Robert,” he said.
I beamed at him. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”
My mother got to her feet. “I’ll go and tell someone you’re awake.” She pushed open the door and was gone.
“I guess they’ll keep me in here for a little bit,” said Lewis, looking around him. “Can you do something for me?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Dizzy will be busting for a pee and wondering where the hell I am. Could you take him for a walk and feed him? There’s dog food in the basement.”
Just then the door opened. I turned, expecting Dr. Paxley, but it was my father who stumbled in. He looked ten years older than when I’d seen him the previous afternoon. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn the day before, and there were streaks of dirt across his forehead and cheeks. Most of all, he stank. A pungent cocktail of sweat and stale alcohol rolled off him. He sat down heavily in the chair my mother had slept in. “Jesus Christ, Lewis,” he breathed. “What happened?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” said Lewis.
My father looked down. “It was a rough night.”
