Whore.

Chapter 29: Hemoglobin

I felt pain in my chest. My mind flashed to the crying woman. Oh God, there were casualties. I ran hurriedly to the school. People were being held back as firemen went into the school, coming out with teachers and some children. Most of them looked unharmed, except for a few who were coughing. Where's Bradley? Where's Bradley. I spun around, searching the crowd with my eyes. Where's Bradley? Where's-

"Is Bradley your son?"

I turned to the voice. A scared looking woman was looking up at me. No doubt she was one of the parents. I wanted to say that Bradley was Swash's son and I was only here to pick him up, but I didn't see the need to explain those irrelevant details to a stranger.

"Yes. Have you seen him?"
"No. You were just talking to yourself. They've not found my little Portia either." She began to sob. I wanted to console her, but I didn't think I had time to waste. Bradley could be anywhere. He could be in the building. He could also have come out and was probably waiting scared in some corner. I pushed through the crowd, trying to watch both the emerging firemen and the area around me. A young girl who had just been rescued was coughing. She looked into the crowd and her eyes washed with relief as ran into the arms of a scared-looking parent.

"Daddy!"

The man hugged his daughter tightly and a tear escaped his eyes. My mind blanked for a few seconds and I was left with only one thought.

Swash.

I had to let him know. But I didn't want to until I was sure Bradley wasn't already safe. Still, if I wasted time, he would get mad that I hadn't informed him sooner. I felt torn. Call him, Michael. The voice in my head again. But what if Bradley is okay and Swash flips out for no reason? He's already in trouble at work. But what if he isn't? You could still search after you've informed him. I sighed. Superego-Michael was right, as always. I reached for my phone.

"Swash?" Stupid question. Who else would answer his cell phone? Still, I had to be sure.
"Michael, I'm about to enter a meeting."
"There's a fire at Bradley's school. I can't find him."

Silence. Then I heard the sound of running.

"Michael, stay right there, I'm on my way."
"I'm not going anywhere. I'll keep searching."

He hung up. I put my phone back into my pocket and resumed my search. Bradley, please be alive. You're too young to die. Nobody's too young to die, Michael. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. You can't shut me up, Michael. And you know I'm right. Bradley could be just as dead as he is alive. Shut up. Please, I'm begging you, shut up. Tears welled in my eyes. He was right. Scratch that, I was right. Nothing prevented tragedy from coming to Bradley. Maybe this was the world's sick way of working. Take one child, make him brilliant and absolutely lovable, make me meet him and form emotions for him within a week and then burn him to a crisp. I slowed my progress through the crowd. My legs felt weak. I made my way out of the mass of panic and worry and slumped to the floor. I was shaking. I couldn't help the tears. The crowd around was oblivious to my pain. What more could I expect? They were only worried about their own kids. I continued my silent cry as I knelt in the street. Slowly, the crowd began to thin. Happy parents took their children home. A few anxious parents waited, even after they had received their children. One child had emerged on a stretcher with severe burn injuries, but he was alive. The firemen had killed the fire and were searching the rubble. The school was still grossly intact, except for a blackened left side and broken windows. The firemen were trying to ascertain the cause of the fire. I moved from my kneeling position and sat on the sidewalk, staring at the ground. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw a fireman.

"We've cleared the building. No body was found."
"Are you sure? Have you searched everywhere?"
"We have. The source of the fire was a gas explosion. It came from the school's cafeteria. Thankfully, it was empty. But the cafeteria was beside the boy's bathroom. One child got burned, but he was at the bathroom door when the explosion happened. If anyone was in the bathroom at the time, I'm sure they would have-" He stopped himself as my grief began anew. It was very possible that Bradley was in the bathroom when it happened. I felt tears run down my cheeks. The fireman looked apologetic, but said nothing. He excused himself and went back to his team. A few teachers were being questioned. I looked around for Mrs. Perry. She was talking to another fireman. I had never seen anyone look so scared. I wanted to wait for her to finish, but the thought of Bradley seemed more important than anything.