Stay Tuned

Chapter 57

As we screamed across town, Rick doing eighty in the news van, we rounded corners almost on two wheels. The locket on my necklace from Candace swung from side to side wildly. I grasped hold of it and squeezed as tightly as I could.

Believe. Believe.

As we listened to the static from the scanner, the dispatcher confirmed my worst fears. Structure fire…Magnolia Woods. Rear building fully engulfed.

That was better news. The rear building—which connected to the main residence area through a short hallway—housed the kitchen, dining room, and the beauty shop. The residents’ rooms were in front.

I bowed my head, and prayed. Please Lord, let Mother and the other people at the nursing home be all right. I know I haven’t been the best daughter, mother, and wife, but if it is Your will, please spare her life. I need to tell her I love her.

Rick gripped the wheel. “Just hang on, Melissa. We’ll get there.”

I counted back from one hundred to keep calm. Trees and houses flashed by the window. Sirens wailed a few blocks away. People were standing out in their front yards, craning their necks for a glimpse of what might be causing all the chaos.

“Tell you what,” Rick said a calm voice. “You just go on and find out about your mother. I can get the video myself until we get a handle on things. You call in and give Drew updates.”
 
Rick pulled up, tires screeching. He threw the news van into park, jumped out, and ran to the back to grab equipment.
 
“Oh, no!” For a second, I couldn’t move my arms or legs. The scene paralyzed me.

Even as a new reporter, I had always been awe-struck by the power a fire commanded over a house or building. It defied anything trying to stop it. Today was no exception.

Red and orange flames leapt high into the air from behind the main building. Smoke billowed in dark gusts through the trees, whose overhanging limbs were charred. At least a half-dozen fire trucks were parked haphazardly around the grounds of the nursing home. Firemen, in shiny yellow suits and black hats, scrambled to unroll miles of water hoses.

Spray was already shooting from one truck, white froth bursting from the nozzle. Rick, a safe distance away, had the camera already rolling. He was bent over, watching through the viewfinder and talking on his cell phone.

The fire chief stood at the open door of his SUV, barking orders into a walkie-talkie and directing the action. A few police officers had arrived on the scene and were holding back the gathering crowd of onlookers.

Finally, I saw what I was looking for. Three ambulances, lights flashing, were parked on the far side of the lawn at least five hundred yards away. I jumped out of the news van, and sprinted in that direction. So many people lived in Magnolia Woods. At least a dozen others worked there on any given shift.
As I ran, I counted only a handful—maybe ten—elderly people in wheelchairs being attended to by paramedics.

None were my mother.