by Davis, Mary
She coughed. The smoke at the ceiling crept lower and lower.
❧
Roger had to go back in for Jackie. But how with RJ so determined to go in too? He scanned the area and saw a dumpster. He snatched RJ and ran. It was empty. Not ideal, but it would do. He lifted RJ inside. “You’ll be safe here.”
RJ cried harder.
Ignoring him, Roger sprinted toward the burning building. He ducked through the back doorway. It was hot inside. He wanted to shed his leather jacket but knew it would give him some degree of protection.
Sweeny had said she was upstairs. He covered his mouth and nose with his arm and dashed for the front where a staircase went up, into the heart of the inferno. Flames completely engulfed the staircase. No doubt all routes upstairs were cut off.
“Jackie!” His anguished call was eaten by the ferocious blaze. He backed away. There had to be another way up. He began to move. His feet seemed to know where to go even though he didn’t.
❧
Jackie lowered herself to the floor away from the thickest smoke. Kneeling caused the throbbing ache in her right calf to explode with shards of pain. She gritted her teeth and tried to control the pain with her breathing. She coughed. The room grew darker, warmer.
It was time to do something drastic. She’d have to break a bone to make her hand smaller. Could she do that to herself? If she were just a little stronger, she could pull her hand the rest of the way through, flesh or no flesh.
Strength! That was what she needed, and that was exactly what she had.
She lay on her back and propped one sneakered foot on each side of the cuff. Lord, give me the inner strength to do this. Help me to endure the pain and not pass out. She took a deep breath and held it, ignoring the urge to cough. One quick thrust with her legs and her hand was free. She cried out in pain and gripped it with her good hand, the cuff dangling from her wrist. It was slick and warm with blood. She rolled to her stomach and wriggled herself to her feet. RJ! She had to find RJ! She wouldn’t leave without him.
❧
“Jackie!” Energized by Jackie’s scream, Roger’s feet moved him more quickly over the spongy floor. “Jackie!” He stayed to the wall and hoped the floor would hold him. “Jackie!” His throat burned, and it hurt to yell. She was alive, and he would call to her until she heard him. “Jackie!” Why wasn’t she answering him? “Jackie!” He coughed. Did her scream indicate the fire had reached her? Was it her last gasp of life? “Jackie!”
❧
Jackie leaned on the door frame, put her arm over her mouth and nose, and hugged her bleeding hand. The hall was hotter and darker than the room. The smoke thickened, making her drowsy. She shook her head to clear it. She had to find RJ. She coughed, gagging on smoke.
Her head jerked up. What was that? Was RJ calling to her? No. He’d call “Mama.” She hobbled across the hall and into the wall. She limped down the hall in the direction she had come. Or at least she thought she was moving.
❧
The heat inside the building made the rope burn on Roger’s hand hurt more. He closed it into a fist. Jackie was here somewhere. But could he find her in time? Was it already too late. “Jackie!” He slid along the wall and around the corner, feeling his way down the hall to an open doorway. “Jackie!” He coughed and covered his mouth with his coat collar. The floor beneath him bowed and crackled. He found himself in the room with the rope. He grabbed the rope. The sting in his hand intensified. He jerked his hand back. “Jackie!”
❧
That was her name! Roger was here and alive! “Roger!” She limped more quickly down the hall toward the smoke and heat. “Roger!”
She looked through the window of the fire door at the top of the stairwell. Flames licked up the stairs and at the door. They were all but gone. “Roger!”
“Jackie! Where are you?”
She coughed. “Here. Where are you? Where’s RJ?”
“Follow my voice.”
“I can’t.” It was so dark. She slunk to the floor on her knees and elbows. Roger must have RJ.
“Go to the apartment next to the stairs.”
Next to the stairs? On which side?
“Follow my voice.”
She tried crawling on her elbows but couldn’t move very well. She relinquished her bleeding hand and did her best to crawl on one hand and her wrist. Ignoring the pain in her hand and her calf, she crawled along the wall to an open door. She hoped it was the right way.
“Are you there yet?”
She needed to rest but knew she couldn’t. She had to keep going.
“Jackie!”
Roger’s voice was closer. She had gone the right way. “Roger?” she choked out. “Are you in here?”
“Be careful—there’s a hole in the floor.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m down below. Find the edge of the hole.”
She crawled across the floor to where she could feel it tip down, dragging the cuff behind her right wrist. She moved around to the side where the floor sat level, and she could see a little. The smoke billowed up through the far side of the hole. She peered through. “Roger! Where’s RJ?”
“He’s outside. He’s safe.”
Roger seemed as relieved to see her as she was to hear RJ was safe. Roger had saved him. Her baby was safe.
“Grab this rope and climb down. Grab both ends of the rope at once.”
She latched onto the ropes with her good hand, and her mind flashed back to seventh-grade PE class. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t then, and she couldn’t now. She’d nearly flunked PE.
“Climb down, Jackie!”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
The room began to turn. “No.” She didn’t do well with heights. Looking down through the hole made her dizzy. Or was it the smoke?
“Let go of the rope. I’m coming up.”
“There has to be another way down.”
“No time.” He sent a ripple up the rope, and she let go. Roger leaped up the rope, ascending hand over hand.
Even with Roger, could she leave the floor and go down the hole? The floor seemed to shift, and with a crack and a crash something gave way. Falling debris rained down around Roger. A board struck him across the shoulders and knocked him to the floor.
“Roger!”
The rope swung back to her. She caught it without thinking and latched on with both hands. A bolt of pain shot up her wrist; but all she could think of was getting to Roger. Her injured hand was useless. She descended too quickly, burning her good hand. Part way down, her hand gave way, and she thumped to the floor. Pain exploded in her calf. She scooted to where Roger lay moaning, trying to move.
Roger slowly pushed to his hands and knees. “We have to get out of here before the whole place comes down on us.”
In answer, another section of the ceiling crashed down. Jackie screamed, and Roger curled his body over hers.
Fifteen
The force of the falling ceiling threw them to the floor, knocking the wind out of Jackie. She willed herself to draw in a gasp of air and coughed. She could feel the full weight of Roger’s motionless body protecting her. “Roger?” Nothing. “Roger!”
Roger moaned.
“Roger, are you okay?”
He tried to move. “What?” He raised his weight off her. “We have to get out.”
Lord, show us the way. She crawled free and helped him get out from under the debris. Jackie limped to the hall with Roger staggering beside her. She wasn’t sure who was helping whom.
“This way.” Roger steered them down the hall away from the heart of the fire.
She held her bloody hand against her stomach. “But the door—”
“—is eaten up in flames.”
She gritted her teeth to stave off the pain in her calf. It didn’t help.
At the end of the hall, they ducked through an open doorway. The smoke was thinner here away from the blaze. Roger dropped to his knees. �
��The window.”
The window was jammed shut. With her less injured hand, she picked up a board to break it out. She swung, and glass crashed. She ran the board around the window frame to clear the glass. When she turned back around, Roger was lying on the floor. She ran to him and shook him, pulling him to a sitting position.
“Just go. I’ll be along. I love you.”
He couldn’t really expect her to leave without him. “Not without you. I lost you for two and a half years. I’m not going to lose you again. Now get up!” She helped Roger to his feet and swung his arm across her shoulders. She could hardly bear her own weight let alone his too, but together they would make it—or not.
She helped him swing his leg out the window and put her hand on the back of his blood-matted hair to guide him through without bumping his head. He probably had a concussion. He rolled out and thumped to the ground. Jackie ignored the pain and swung her leg out and crawled through. She helped Roger across the wet grass and collapsed beside him. She took several deep breaths. The fresh air helped clear her head. Her lungs burned. She would need to be put on oxygen, as would Roger.
“Mah-mah-mah-mah.” RJ’s ragged crying cut through her fog.
She followed his small, raw voice to the dumpster.
“Sweetheart, Honey, here I am.”
RJ looked up at her from the filthy floor. “Mah-mah, Mah-mah.” His pleas became more frantic as he stood and stretched out his arms to her.
How was she going to lift him out with two injured hands? Her left hand was not only useless; the blood could scare RJ. She reached her burned hand in and grasped her son’s upper arm. The dangling handcuff clanked against the side. She knew she shouldn’t pull him up by one arm, but she had no other choice. “Climb, Honey—climb.” She couldn’t do this alone.
RJ grabbed two fistfuls of her bulky sweater sleeve and scrambled up, desperate to get to her. He clutched her around the neck, making it easier for her to pull him the rest of the way out. She took a slow breath and coughed. Her son was safe.
She knelt back down next to Roger’s still body. RJ wouldn’t let loose of her so she had to examine Roger with RJ clinging to her. He had a gash on the back of his head that was still bleeding but not too badly. It was the concussion and smoke that worried her most, but she couldn’t do anything about either of those at the moment. She gently separated his hair with one hand to get a better look at his laceration. A two-inch diagonal cut dripped blood. She needed to get Roger’s head above his heart. Sitting in the wet grass, she tried to wiggle his head and shoulders onto her lap without luck.
Roger moaned and rocked his head to the side. “Ow!” His whole body tensed.
“Roger, can you sit up?”
“Sleep.”
“No, you can’t sleep. You have a concussion. I need you to sit up.” She wrestled him into a sitting position against her with his help. She lifted one of his eyelids, then the other. Fixed and dilated. She took his pulse. Steady and strong.
“I’m so tired.” His brain was fogged by a bruise and smoke.
“I know, but you can’t go to sleep.” How was she going to get him to a hospital? “Talk to me. What happened to that man who brought us here?”
“He got away.”
“The CD?”
“That too.”
“Oh, Roger.” It was all her fault.
“It’s okay. You and RJ are safe.” Roger seemed to become more lucid the more he talked. The fresh air was helping them both.
Sirens whined in the distance. She willed them louder and closer. A portion of the building behind her crashed. A fire truck and rescue truck screamed to a stop. They’d be okay. Firemen rushed around, and two EMTs ran toward her.
“He has a concussion, pupils fixed and dilated. His pulse is strong and steady. He has a laceration on the back of his head, and he needs oxygen for smoke inhalation. We both do.”
One EMT started on Roger. The other stared at her. “Are you a doctor?”
“Nurse.”
“Is the boy hurt?”
“I don’t think so. He wasn’t in the building, but he should be checked.”
A fireman rushed over. “We need to get these people farther away from the building.” The fireman helped Roger up and over to the emergency vehicles. One EMT grabbed the medical equipment they had brought over, and the other one helped her and RJ. RJ wouldn’t let the man carry him so the EMT supported and half carried her to safety.
They wrapped Roger’s head and carefully strapped an oxygen mask to his face. They draped a blanket around Roger’s shoulders and one around hers and gave her an oxygen mask to breath into.
Three police cars and a ladder truck pulled up. Two police officers came over. The officer with the name Stanley on his badge asked, “Are they okay? Can either of them talk?”
“Make it quick. I want to get them out of here as soon as the ambulance shows up.”
“What were the two of you doing in a boarded-up condemned building?”
“A man kidnapped my son and me and brought us here. Roger came to rescue us.” The air was damp and heavy, but it hadn’t started to rain yet.
“Where is this man? Can you give us a description?”
Roger reached for the oxygen mask while the EMTs proceeded to remove his coat, with his coat sleeves and arms tangled together. They freed the coat. Roger finally managed to wrestle the mask off.
Suddenly both officers reached for their guns but didn’t draw them. They stared at Roger, and the EMTs slowly moved back.
“Sir, we need your gun.” Though Officer Stanley spoke calmly, there was authority behind his request.
Still dazed, Roger looked to his side. A brittle silence stretched out around the group, touching each one. Roger groped for his gun and pulled it out.
The officers tensed and remained ready to draw their weapons. “Easy, Sir.”
Jackie moved her body in front of Roger, uprooting RJ next to her. She could feel the tension from the officers. They had no idea if Roger was a threat or not. “He has a concussion and isn’t completely aware of his surroundings.” She put one hand on top of Roger’s and the gun. In his state, he could be thinking anything and mistake the officers as a threat. “Give me the gun.”
Roger looked at her confused.
“Just give me the gun,” she said gentler.
Roger looked her directly in the face. “I can do it.”
Her only thought was trust, and she moved aside.
Roger kept his glazed eyes fixed on her as he stretched out his arm with his gun hanging from his index finger.
Officer Stanley took the gun. “Hope you have a permit for this.”
“I do.”
The officers relaxed, and everyone seemed to breathe more easily. The EMT who had latched onto RJ released him. RJ ran back to her. “Chocoe? JJ good.”
“Yes, I’ll get you some chocolate.”
“So that’s what that means.” Roger held out his arm for the EMT to wrap the blood pressure cuff on him.
“Can you tell me who this man was?” Officer Stanley pulled out a small key and unlocked the cuff still on her wrist. She wanted to rub her wrist, but Kevin, the EMT, was gently wrapping her other hand.
“I don’t know his name. He was wearing a blue coat and pants and had short, curly, light brown hair.”
“His name is Martin Sweeny. He’s about five ten, a hundred and seventy pounds.”
“Is he armed?”
“Not anymore right now. Lost his gun inside.”
“What was he driving?”
Roger shook his head. “I don’t know.”
But she did. “A silver Ford Taurus, the license number is WSG 174.”
“I’ll put out an APB.” Officer Stanley walked away.
RJ tugged on her arm. “JJ chocoe.”
She looked up at Stanley’s partner, Cardozo. “You wouldn’t have a chocolate bar, would you?” It was worth a try.
“No, but Tom might.” He left and returned a momen
t later with a crunchy chocolate bar. “Tom has a sweet tooth that won’t end.”
She thanked him, unwrapped the candy, and gave it to her son. He had braved the terror of Martin Sweeny and was already bouncing back.
An ambulance pulled up, and the EMTs lifted Roger onto a stretcher and loaded him into the back. “Aren’t you coming?”
The first drop of rain hit Jackie’s nose. “I’ll catch the next bus.” She could feel a portion of the tension drain away. They were away from this Martin Sweeny, and Roger was on his way to be treated.
“I don’t want to let you out of my sight again.”
She felt the same way. “I’ll see you at the hospital.” Another ambulance pulled up as Roger’s drove away.
❧
“Where’s my husband?” Jackie lay on the ER bed with an oxygen tube at her nose. No one would tell her anything. RJ wiggled and squirmed next to her. She’d never given him a whole chocolate bar before. He probably wouldn’t nap until late and be cranky all day. One of the technicians had shown RJ how to use a tongue depressor, then gave it to him to play with. He had already checked her mouth a dozen times.
“Ma’am, just relax. The doctor will be with you soon.” An ER nurse in panda-bear scrubs took her blood pressure and wrote it down.
“Can’t you tell me anything about my husband? Where is he? Anything?”
“I’ll see what I can find out.” She swept around the curtain and tugged it shut behind her.
That nurse wasn’t going to check on anything, Jackie told herself. It was a pat answer. Say whatever it took to keep a patient calm. She knew the game, and she didn’t want to be placated. She wanted Roger!
A curtain separated her from the ER beds on either side of her. It was a thin veil of privacy, but right now it was too much. She wanted to throw back all the curtains so she could see what was going on in the whole ER.
