Wild Card

by Karina Halle

  He starts to pull me out of the house and I’m fighting him, needing to help.

  “Rachel please,” he says, pushing me out onto the grass. In the distance, the fire from the ponderosa pine is spreading along the grass toward the barn. Sirens ring through the air, coming from town. But none of it matters, none of it sinks in.

  I have to get to my mother. I have to, I have to.

  We’ve come so far, it can’t end now.

  “Listen to me, Rachel.” Shane is in my face, shaking me back to him. “Go into the house, wake up dad and grandpa, get the hose, buckets of water, get as many thick and big blankets as you can get.”

  I shake my head, swallowed by panic. “I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving my mom.”

  “I’m getting your mother out, okay? But it’s not going to be easy. It’s going to hurt. Do you understand?”

  “Shane, please,” I cry out.

  “I’m getting her out. I promise you that. Now go, now!”

  He yells at me and then turns, running back into the inferno.

  I can’t even move. I’m just staring at him as he goes, disappearing into the burning building without even any clothing to protect him.

  “Rachel!” Hank’s voice rings out from behind me, barely audible above the flames. “Jesus, the barn! Dad, call 911, get the hose.”

  I can’t even turn around. I can’t breathe. My lungs feel closed up with soot and the heat from the cottage is growing deeper and deeper until it feels like my hair is burning.

  I stumble backward, right into Hank’s arms.

  “Rachel, is Vernalee in there?”

  “Yes. And Shane’s in there,” I gasp. “He went to get her.”

  “Oh dear god. Oh god,” he cries out. He looks at me. “We need a first aid kit, blankets. Under the sink.”

  I blink at him, my eyes are burning.

  “Rachel!” he yells in my face. “Do it!”

  I snap out of it. A jolt to my heart.

  Everything I love is at stake.

  Everyone I love.

  I start running toward the house just as Dick is running out of it, moving fast for his age.

  “I called 911, they were already on their way,” he says, heading for the hose by the barn.

  There’s too much to do at once. I know that no horses are inside the stable right now but even so, Dick has to protect it and get that other fire under control. Meanwhile Hank and Shane are trying to get my mother out.

  I grab the heavy-duty first aid kit from under the kitchen sink, then pick up a stack of thick quilts that Jeanine made ages ago, stacked along the backs of the couches, and start running back.

  The sight nearly ruins me.

  The whole cottage is up in flames and rafters and pieces of the room are starting to fall down, sending sparks up into the dark sky. Against it is Hank’s silhouette and only Hank’s.

  He stares at the building and I know what he’s thinking, what he fears.

  In the distance, the sirens get closer.

  I manage to walk forward until the heat blasts me like opening an oven. I drop the blankets at my feet and go to Hank, grabbing onto his sleeve, holding on for dear life.

  “What do we do?” I croak. “What do we do?”

  “We pray, sweetie,” he says to me, his voice choked. He puts his hand over mine and presses down. “We pray that they’ll make it out.”

  How can this be happening?

  How can everything I love possibly be gone in a second?

  I hold onto Hank and watch and wait as the flames jump into the sky, as the seconds tick down, as it looks like they might never come out.

  They might never come out.

  21

  Shane

  Hell.

  I'm in Hell.

  There's no other way to describe it.

  This is a place that most men would run away from, a place where all living things flee. Even now I can see a spider on the ceiling, moving rapidly, trying to escape the flames that threaten it.

  But I don't have that luxury.

  Vernalee is inside here and I have to get her out.

  When I woke up, it was to Rachel yelling, screaming and I was so sure that it was a horrible nightmare that I almost went back to sleep. Then I remembered that she had fallen asleep in my bed and when I opened my eyes and looked for her, she was gone.

  In fact, the whole room was bathed in a horrible, flickering light, my ears finally tuning into the sound of thunder and crackling flames and that's when I knew something terrible had happened.

  I got out of bed and saw the burning house, saw Rachel's figure inside, her silhouette so stark against those red, hot flames. For a sickening moment, I thought maybe it was too late, maybe she was burning alive right in front of me.

  She wasn't.

  I ran in and got her out and went back in to get her mother.

  Only now, as I stand here and the world is collapsing around me, my body boiling to a million degrees, my eyes feeling like they're being sucked out of my skull, I know that I might not make it back out there.

  Vernalee might not either, but that won't stop me from trying.

  "Vernalee!" I yell but my voice is caught and I cough, the smoke filling my lungs. I squint, hovering down close to the ground, trying to find the cooler air. "Vernalee!"

  There's no answer. Or if there is, I can’t hear it over the roar of the flames. The sound of the wood being consumed is a deafening, alien-like crackle that floods the ears.

  Both sides of her door are covered in flames and they are spreading inside the room like a violent disease, intent on getting her. I know I have to go in there if I want to get her out and already I feel the hair on my bare arms and legs getting singed, my eyelashes too.

  The couch is starting to smoke but there's a doily resting on the arm, so I grab that and hold it over my nose and mouth, trying to filter out the smoke.

  Here it goes.

  I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, running through the flames into her room. They lick at me, burning my skin but then I'm through, her room already filled with thick smoke, like something forgotten in an oven for too long.

  I cough violently, making my way over to the bed where she's lying in her nightgown.

  Motionless.

  "Vernalee," I try and croak before my lungs seize. I erupt into a coughing fit that nearly takes me out and I stagger forward, my fingers going for her neck. She's breathing, she still has a pulse, but she won't for long.

  I pick her up in my arms, carrying her around the bed. The door is completely engulfed now and there's no way we can get out alive that way.

  I move to her window, already open from earlier in an attempt to beat the heat, and see my father and Rachel on the other side.

  He pushes Rachel back and comes running forward, even as flames start spreading from the roof, coming down by the window, lashing out at him, attempting to block the only way out.

  But we have no choice.

  I can't speak but I hold onto Vernalee and push the window pane the rest of the way up, then as carefully and quickly as possibly I lift up Vernalee higher and pass her through.

  She collapses into Hank's arms and if I could breathe a sigh of relief I would. She's out of the fire. But from the way my father is staring down at her, feeling for her pulse, I'm not sure if she's going to okay after all.

  "Vernalee," he cries out, taking her away from the house as Rachel runs over sobbing. She looks up at me and says, "Shane, get out of there!"

  I nod, almost frozen, my lungs don't even seem to work anymore, there' s no air, just thick black smoke that fills me up and up until there's nowhere for it to go.

  I waver on my feet for a second, holding Rachel's eyes.

  My father is performing CPR on Vernalee.

  My world is just fire and flames and that horrible roar of consumption.

  Then I manage to snap out of it, slowly, like a sick man getting out of bed, and I try to climb through the window.


  Flames reach down from above, a blast of hellish heat that sends me backward onto the floor.

  Then there's a CRASH as the rafters behind me fall down, smashing onto the bed, sending up more sparks and smoke my way.

  Then there's another CRASH.

  A slice of burning pain on my shoulder as part of the ceiling falls on me.

  I try to scream but everything is singed and raw inside me. The impact knocks me to the floor, the cool floor, and I rest my cheek against it, closing my eyes, relishing this feeling. I know it will be the last good feeling I'll ever have, this beautifully cool floor.

  No.

  No, my last good feeling is of Rachel.

  Rachel who is so close but far away.

  Safe.

  I love you, I think to myself.

  My heart slows, my lungs start to slog.

  I don't have much more in me.

  Then I hear a yell, far off, a new voice. Low, commanding, in control.

  Fox.

  It's Fox.

  I hear the smash of wood and glass and then arms around me hauling me up, pulling me out of the fire.

  But I'm still so hot, so hot, every part of me is cooked.

  "Shane." A slap at my face. "Shane, can you hear me?"

  Somehow, I manage to open my eyes and at first all I see is white and maybe this is heaven and then Fox's face comes into view and I know he wouldn't be there, so I'm wrong.

  He removes his mask, peers down at me. "Hey little brother," he says to me. "Stay with me, okay? You're safe, you're going to be okay."

  His voice is completely steadfast and strong, confident. It gives me confidence.

  I open my mouth to speak but I can't.

  "Don't try," Fox says as a pair of hands give him an oxygen tank and he puts the mask over my mouth. "Focus on me," he says. "Watch what I do. Breathe in," he breathes in, "breathe out. Do it Shane. In and out."

  I try and end up coughing, my lungs as tight as a fist.

  "Take your time, okay?" he says, taking in a deep breath again to show me. "In and out. Slowly."

  I try again. Air, pure clean air starts to fill my lungs until soon I'm gulping it like water.

  "That's it," Fox says, resting his hand on my good shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "You're doing good. Keep it going."

  And I do, lying on my back, staring up at my older brother and the dark clouds above him. I blink. I swear a bit of water just fell in my eye.

  Fox looks up at the sky and then back to me, smiles. "You felt that huh? Rain. That'll make our job easier."

  Then Rachel's face comes over my vision, tears pouring down her face.

  I reach up for her and she takes my hand.

  I want to tell her I'm okay but I don't think that's why she's crying.

  She's crying from pure panic.

  I roll my head over to see a couple of firefighters giving Vernalee CPR.

  My father holds her hand as they do so.

  He's crying.

  Sobbing.

  "Please don't leave me," he cries out to her. "Please don't leave me Vernalee. I love you. I love you, I love you. This isn't the end. This is only the beginning. God, please, this is supposed to be the beginning."

  My breath hitches in my throat, not from the smoke, but from the noose around my heart.

  My poor father. My poor Rachel.

  "Vernalee," he cries out, kissing her palm as his tears spill down. "You can't go. You can't go. This was supposed to be our second chance."

  I look back up at Rachel. She's covering her face in her hands, my grandpa now beside her, putting his arm around her. I meet Fox's eyes and his are watering too.

  He gives me a tense smile. "Keep breathing, Shane. You're going to be okay."

  But even as he says that, I see him frown at me.

  Then my eyes start to roll back in my head as pain, exquisite pain, starts to tear through my body.

  I cough and gulp for air, my heart beat slowing and slowing until I think it's covered in quicksand, and then Fox is yelling for someone, sounding panicked now.

  I take in a breath but I don't think it does any good.

  Everything goes black.

  My world goes quiet.

  And cold.

  22

  Rachel

  I remember when I was nine years old and my parents first told me that we were moving from our suburb outside of Edmonton down to a tiny town in the mountains of British Columbia.

  They told me over dinner and like usual, I didn’t react. The most I would do was nod my head and silently agree, no matter what it was. At that time, my father wasn’t sexually abusing me. That started when I was about twelve. But I was still frightened to death of him, probably egged on by the fact that my mother was too.

  He would often pull me aside when my mother wasn’t looking or listening and tell me wonderful things only to knock me down at the end. He would do this repeatedly and I would believe it because I didn’t know any better. He was my father. He was my protector and provider, my ruler, my world. What he said was gold. It was the last word and the only word.

  The day he told me we were moving, that he’d gotten a new important position at the RCMP station in North Ridge, was the day I first felt hope.

  I thought, maybe, maybe if we went to North Ridge, that life would get better. I thought maybe he would love his job and be happy and if he was happy, he would be nicer to me. I thought maybe my mother would smile more. I thought a lot of things.

  The drive down to North Ridge took two days and a lot of driving and I knew better than to ask for any restroom breaks or to take pictures of the elk on the side of the road and we kept going and all I could think about was pulling into town (at the moment I think I had a picture of a Swiss alpine village in my head) and having my life really begin again. New friends, new school, new parents, a new life.

  North Ridge was my second chance.

  And I remember it still felt like that, even as we moved into our new house. It even had a white picket fence, just like the movies, and the house itself was painted a brilliant blue with red trim.

  That day I truly believed that everything was going to be better.

  My parents were all smiles.

  They even looked in love.

  That night I went to bed and my father came in.

  He normally didn’t tuck me in at night and I guess I should have thought it was odd but I thought maybe this was the new dad, the one that cares.

  “Rachel,” he said to me, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  I nodded because I still wasn’t brave enough to speak.

  “I hope you like your new town. I think we might fit in here just fine. You’ll have new friends and new teachers and it will be like starting fresh, don’t you think?” I kept on nodding, smiling even a little. He cleared his throat and his piercing eyes swung to me. “Just remember one thing. It’s a fresh start but it’s our only fresh start. I’m in charge of this town now and people will respect me. They will. You’ll see. I’ll have all the power and the privilege a little place like this will give me. So don’t you dare screw anything up for me.”

  I blinked at him, scared at the tone of his voice.

  “If you’re going to be my daughter, you have to do as you’re told. You have to work hard and keep your head down. You don’t need friends, you don’t need distractions, you don’t need anyone but your mother and your father. You need to stay out of my way. You need to not exist, you understand what I’m saying?”

  My father didn’t want me as a distraction.

  But I became a distraction anyway.

  I tried so hard to not exist.

  And I failed.

  Until I met Shane.

  When I sat next to him in class, my world changed.

  Slowly, very slowly, day by day, Shane pulled me out of my shell. He was the only person in the world I could truly be myself with, even when I didn’t know who I was. He helped me discover everything I could be.

  He taugh
t me how to exist.

  I owe him the world.

  I owe him my life.

  And now I’m sitting in the North Ridge hospital waiting room and waiting for the news about him and about my mother.

  The fire burned the worker’s cottage to the ground.

  Even a whole team of firefighters and a spattering of rain did nothing to stop it from happening. The only thing they were able to save was the stable, though the ponderosa pines are just charred skeletons.

  I knew that when Shane ran back into the house, that I might not ever see him again.

  I can’t describe the terror that gripped me, a dark, malevolent fist gripping me from the inside out. The fact that I might lose both of them.

  They were both rushed to the hospital. At first it seemed like Shane was doing okay. While Hank was crying over my mother, pleading for her not to leave him, Shane was looking up at me. Fox had revived him.

  But then his eyes rolled back in his head and he was gone.

  Just like that.

  One team was trying to revive my mother, the other was trying to revive him.

  And if Dick wasn’t holding onto me, I’m sure I would have had to be revived as well.

  Now, I’m waiting.

  Waiting for good news, any news.

  My mind wants to run away on me, it wants to focus on the dark, and I have to fight it tooth and nail to keep it out of the shadows. I can’t think about those horrors, so I do my best to stay calm, to keep everything at the surface.

  I’m not alone. Everyone else is here: Hank, Dick, Fox, Maverick, Delilah, even her mother Jeanine. We’re all waiting in this damn room, our breath held in our throats, trying so hard to not fall apart.

  Finally, a doctor appears with a nurse beside him. He looks grim.

  It’s at that moment I realize that everything is lost.

  One of them is gone.

  Maybe both.

  We all get to our feet, though I’m hanging onto Hank as I do so and he’s hanging onto me.

  The doctor clears his throat and looks at the two of us. “Hank Nelson. Rachel Waters.”

  I make a breathless sound, like all life is draining out of me.