Playing with Forever

Chapter 10: Fire

"I'm sorry you got so hurt," I said, genuinely sad for him. "You didn't deserve that."

He nodded in acceptance. It seemed like he didn't blame himself for the betrayal, which was good. It wasn't his fault he got hurt when all he'd done was love someone. The very wrong someone, apparently. "Thank you," he replied.

Things were awkward for a few minutes after that, but Sam eventually shook off his brooding and engaged me in conversation again. We chatted continuously, and I was surprised with how outgoing Sam was with me. Conversation flowed easily between us, and I was enjoying myself. At least until we came upon the fire.

It was right off the road we were driving down, a house set back from the street gone up in flames. Without a backward glance, Sam sped straight towards it, the car skidding to a stop at the end of the driveway.

Sam tossed me his phone as he darted outside the car. "Stay inside!" he said. "Call 911, and stay inside!" He disappeared, running off straight for the fire.

I quickly got out of the car to follow him, dialing 911 to report the fire. I wasn't sure what road we were on, but I described it to the emergency contact once I got through. I spied the numbers of the house for the address, and they said they'd send the fire department out immediately. 

I tossed the phone on the seat of the car, then followed Sam up to the burning house. A blast of hot air hit me as I ran up the driveway.

"Abigail!" Sam roared when I came up beside him. "I told you to stay in the car!"

Yeah, fat chance of that. I turned my attention the woman who hung halfway out an upstairs window. She was screaming, and it took me a few moments to make out what she was saying. "My baby!" she bawled. "Help me! I can't get to my baby!"

No, oh no, no, no. It wasn't happening.

"Help me!" she screamed. "Please, help me!"

"We'll get you out," Sam called back, voice firm and calm. "Climb down from your window, Abigail will help you down."

He pointed to a bench by the front door, and I knew what he meant—drag it underneath the window and help the woman get down.

"I'm not leaving my baby!" she screamed.

"I promise to get them. Look at me," he implored. "I promise."

"Sam," I protested. There was no way he could go into a house gone up in flames, but he intended to do just that.

Desperately, he grabbed my face. "I will come back out," he promised. "Abigail, I swear. I will come back out."

He kissed my forehead, then darted inside the burning house. I screamed after him, but he either didn't hear me over the roar of the flames, or he was ignoring me. Either way, I had to focus on helping the woman out.

"Please," I pleaded. "Your baby will be safe. Just climb down, please."

It took some coaxing, but eventually she lowered herself out of the open window. I'd pulled the bench over and put it underneath her, so when she dropped, it wasn't a big fall. She tumbled down anyways, so when I tried to catch her, we both tumbled down to the ground, a pile of flailed limbs and smashed heads.

We righted ourselves with groans of pain, then waited on Sam. He'd run inside, disappearing into the depths of the house in search of this woman's baby. Was he insane? Who was he to brave a fire?

The woman was half naked with shampoo in her hair—she'd clearly been in the middle of showering when this all went down—so I quickly shed my sweater and gave it to wipe the soap out of her hair and eyes. I had a camisole on underneath, so we were both covered.

Minutes went by, and there was no sign of Sam. The woman was wailing in fear, and as time crept along, tears started falling down my face as well.

"What's your name?" I asked the woman, trying to distract her.

"Catherine," she sobbed.

"Catherine, I'm Abby. That's my friend Sam. He'll do it," I told the woman. "He'll come back out with your baby."

I wasn't sure who I was reassuring at that point.

There was a huge crash within the house, sending sparks and wafts of smoke out the front door and renewed terror into my heart. "Come on, Sam," I cried. "You have to come back out!"

He couldn't die like that! I couldn't witness his fiery death!

Just as I was giving up hope, he appeared in the doorway, covered in soot. He held a baby on one shoulder, a singed cat over the other. As he ran out the door, his left foot ignited. Panicked, I grabbed the doormat and slapped it on the flames, putting it out before it crept further than his knee.

The woman was bawling as Sam presented the child to her, tears making streaks down the soot on her face as she clutched the crying baby to her. "Thank you," she was chanting to Sam, as if in prayer. "Thank you."

The fire department pulled up, a fire engine with an ambulance close behind in the dark autumn night. The firefighters went right to work, shooting water at the flames as soon as they verified no one was in the house that needed saving.

I pulled Sam into a hug, clinging on to him for dear life. "How could you be so reckless?" I demanded into his smoke-doused shirt.

"I promised you I would be alright."

I pulled back and slugged his arm. "Don't ever do anything like that ever again, do you hear me?"

He shrugged in non-commitment.

His jeans were burned away on his leg, fiery red skin beneath, but he didn't wait for the paramedics to check him out. Instead, he held his hand out to me. "Come," he said. "Let us go."

"But the fire isn't out yet!"

"It is alright. They do not need us here anymore."

I looked hesitantly over to the drama enfolding before us. "I don't know—shouldn't we stay and talk to people?"

"They do not need us," he repeated.

"Are they going to be okay?" I said, looking over at the woman and her baby as they were loaded into the ambulance with oxygen masks over their faces.

"They will be just fine. Come on." When I hesitated, he dropped his hand. "I would rather not make a big deal about being here," he admitted.

Oh. He didn't want to be lauded as the hero that he was, I realized. It was his choice, and though I disagreed, I would honor it. "Okay," I relented, and put my hand out to clasp Sam's before walking back to his car.

I was too shocked, too confused, to say anything on the drive home. Sam had rifled through the trunk of his car until he found an old sweatshirt and let me put it on. I'd blushed. I'd left my own sweater with the woman, and my pink bra was obvious beneath my white undershirt. I didn't think he could see any of the marks on my body that I hated so much, but the fact that I was so revealed in front of him made me anxious.

I didn't say anything until he pulled up outside of Birdie's house to drop me off. We walked up the sidewalk, but instead of following me inside, Sam stopped. "Goodnight, Abigail," he said.

"But—" I protested, coming back to my senses at his refusal to come in. "We've got to write our paper."

It was a stupid thing to say. Sam was obviously injured, and writing the paper was the least of his worries. He shook his head. "Do not worry about the paper. I will take care of it. You go rest, you are still pretty shocked."

I couldn't argue that. "Okay."

"See you, tomorrow," he said, reaching in to close the door.

"Goodnight."