Fake Me To Church

Chapter 15.1 - Easy Like Sunday Morning

- STEVEN -

I stood still until Ahmed got in the car with James and Katherine, waited in the pale lights flickering from the firetruck still flashing outside Marissa's apartment. The air was heavy, unforgiving, and sooty clouds billowed ahead of the row of firemen who stood their ground on the building's front lawn.

Their work had been effective—it seemed all that remained of the fire was merely smoke, but the firemen weren't taking any chances; one of them still clutched a water hose close to his side, and they all kept their eyes locked on that wooden front door.

Another fireman, one who'd gone in earlier, appeared in the doorway and stepped out into the icy night. He fanned smoky wisps from in front of his face, then called to his comrades:

"No signs of anyone else in the house," I heard him say. "Good work, boys."

What? But Marissa—?

I shook my head, felt a slight throbbing behind my eyes. Then I noticed something odd. The fireman, the one who'd just proclaimed the scene all-clear—he was staring directly at me.

I gulped, felt my eyes grow wide. But I couldn't find the strength to move my body an inch, not even as he started taking steps my way. I just stood there, too afraid or intrigued or terrified or something—unready and unable to simply turn and walk away.

"You're one brave kid, Steven," he spoke in a deep and commanding voice.

I finally took a step back, shivering as I said my next words. "H—how did you know my name?"

"Hey, take it easy," he smiled, placed a single hand on my shoulder. "Charity mentioned it when she made the call. Said two boys were trapped in a flaming house, one named Steven and one named something foreign that I can't remember. I just figured you were the...uh, American one." He gave a small nod.

I nodded back. "Right," I answered slowly. "Well, th—thank you. Seriously. We would've been toast without you guys." This whole time, I was gathering the courage to take another step back, to spin around and run for my life, if need be. "I, uh...should probably get going."

He lifted his eyes past my gaze, up into the trees or maybe to the sky. I couldn't tell, and I couldn't care less. I forced a half-smile and turned to head for my car.

Once I got in, I started the engine and clicked on the lights, shadowed outlines of trees and their branches falling on the grass and pavement. I reversed out of the parking space and spun the wheel left before shifting the gear into drive and accelerating forward.

I shouldn't have, but I checked the rearview mirror again as I came to a halt at the stop sign bisecting the road.

I swallowed hard.

The firemen were huddled together, perhaps trying to stay warm in the invisible blizzard; all of them stood as a mini-mob, each one mere inches from the others—except for one, the one who'd somehow remembered my 'American' name and who now stared directly at my vehicle, at me, as my brake lights illuminated his chilling eyes and a glare that felt almost...familiar.

****

There was no way Marissa made it out of that house alive. Of that, I was sure. And the fire hadn't been burning long enough to destroy her remains.

They should've found her in that house, I kept telling myself as I drove home. They should have found her.

I stopped at a red light and shut my eyes, relieving some of the soreness in them. My heart thumped erratically, and my brain raced. It was too much—it was all way too much for me to process.