The Denver Chronicles

Chapter 8

Charlotte woke with a start, someone was pounding on her room door.

Boom boom boom!

It was so loud, she winced at the ferocity of the sound. Who could make such a noise with only their hand? Stumbling out of the bed sheets, she made her way to the source of the racket. As soon as her hand touched the chain lock at the top, the sound stopped. She fumbled with the regular lock and then pulled the door open.

"Oh good. I was hoping you'd hear. The building has a fire downstairs. We need to get out."

A very small woman stood staring up at her.

"Come, we need to hurry. The elevators aren't working, have to take the stairs."

Blinking, Charlotte tried to gather her thoughts. She quickly grabbed her room key card from the nightstand and a sweatshirt to cover the tank top she was sleeping in. The woman was still waiting in the hallway when she shut her door. Still feeling the effects of sleep, she wondered what time it was. They entered a stairwell through a side door down at the end of the hallway.

"I'm Clara. Room next to you. Sorry if I scared you."

"I'm Charlotte. You did, but thank you. Why aren't the fire alarms going off?"

The tiny woman bounded down the stairs. Charlotte had to labor to keep up.

"Don't rightly know. I got a phone call from the front desk."

They finally reached the ground floor and exited out of the stairway into a smokey filled lobby. Charlotte coughed and shielded her mouth with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Clara acted as if it didn't bother her, taking hold of Charlotte's arm and guiding them outside.

"Looks like we made it out just in time. That smoke is thick." She remarked, looking up at her auburn-haired neighbor.

Fire trucks rumbled up, their air brakes releasing a whoosh as they parked. They both watched as men clad in black and yellow heavy gear scrambled out. Charlotte wondered where the fire was at and how bad it really was. Another fire vehicle drove up and parked at a crooked angle by the door. She heard the captain who got out talk into his radio, "that's right, a kitchen fire. Suspected arson."

Amidst the chaos, Charlotte had forgotten to slip on shoes. Her bare feet felt cold on the hard cement sidewalk. She noticed her tiny neighbor was now chatting with another couple. The firemen ran a hose inside and began to work on the blaze. Turning her attention back to the gathered crowd of guests, she saw a familiar person.

Josh?

She began to walk closer to him but as she did, he turned and disappeared behind the side of the building. Something tugged her to follow internally, but a voice interrupted her.

"Charlotte, they got it put out. The front desk staff are saying we can go back in."

She frowned but stopped. Josh probably didn't want to talk so she let it go.

"We can go back in?"

"Yes, thankfully! It's freezing out here. I bet your feet are frozen!"

"Oh. . .yeah, yeah they are." Charlotte replied, absently.

They followed the flow of people back into the warmth of the hotel, stopping to gape at the now blocked off kitchen and dining area. The flames never reached the outer area. It was as if it never happened. Except for the smoke and the lingering stench.

"Enjoying Denver?"

Charlotte wondered what time it was, oblivious to the question being asked.

"Charlotte?"