My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 38

"Somebody did notice. They called 9-1-1."

"On my phone."

"The fact he was on your phone proves to me that he was at least in close proximity to you."

"Oh, come on! You know damned well that would never happen."

"I've seen stranger things than that," he said holding his gaze on me, his feet propped on a chair.

So that's where I was sitting at 1 a.m. when the door opened and Sam Jones walked in. I never imagined I could be so happy to see Sam Jones.

When I told Sam what I'd seen, he was only slightly more willing than the chief to give me the benefit of the doubt. Ten minutes later he, Simmons, and I were cruising up the island toward the beach house. They rode in front and I rode in the "cage." My hands were cuffed, but not behind my back. Two other officers followed in a separate car and the chief radioed two more with instructions to head that way. Traffic had thinned and the ride took no more than seven or eight minutes. I pointed out the house and the chief pulled up the winding drive stopping just short of going under the building. The second car pulled in behind us.

Jones and the chief left me in the cage and climbed the long staircase to the front door. The other two made a wide circle around the house. A third police car pulled onto the grass at the end of the drive and parked. Laying my face against the side window, I could barely see Chief Simmons knock at the front door and Fat Albert step out, but could hear nothing. The clock on the car dash read 1:21 a.m. I sat back in the seat and waited.

One of the roving officers—a tall, muscular black man with a two-day beard—strolled up under the house and studied a wet spot on the cement. He looked up at the source—a drip under the edge of the house—then stooped, touched his finger to it, and smelled it. He then called the other roving officer over who also stooped and smelled it. Together they shined their lights up at the underside of the house. The black officer pressed the button on the microphone attached high on his shirt and spoke into it. A moment later, Jones and the chief came running down the front steps to examine the puddle. Something was wrong.

I sat forward gripping the bars separating me from the front seat and watched as all four men backed away then charged up the stairs and disappeared into the house. The clock read 1:27 a.m. I pressed my head far back in the rear window, looked up, and saw lights coming on throughout the house.

One of the officers staggered out the front door carrying a limp young female in his arms followed by Fat Albert struggling to carry another. They carted them down the stairs, away from the building, and placed them on a patch of grass halfway to the road. Detective Jones and the chief together were attempting to carry a third female down the steps when a massive explosion blew the roof off the house and rattled the car knocking Jones, the chief, and the girl off the steps onto the front lawn.

A huge fireball bellowed high into the night sky carrying with it pieces of the building that shot skyward then fell back to earth, some up to a hundred feet away. Flames leapt through windows that had been blown out and cracks that had appeared in the walls. Jones shoved an officer—whose hair and clothes were on fire—to the ground, rolled him, and beat out the flames.

A section of second story exterior wall gave way and crashed down on the hood of the police car smothering it in sparks, embers, and splintered construction materials. The impact crushed the hood of the car and bounced me against the ceiling. Flames spread up the windshield and I could instantly feel the heat through the glass.

There were no door handles in the rear to open the doors. I pressed a button there to lower the window, but it didn't work. I tried the one on the other side, and it, too, didn't work. I waved my hands in the back window and shouted, "Hey! Hey!"

Smoking debris lay scattered throughout the front yard and surrounding empty lots. Two of the officers dashed up the steps and into the house. A third helped the chief to his feet and a fourth began dragging the unconscious girls farther from the inferno, one at a time.

The temperature inside the car was rising. The inspection decal on the windshield bubbled, curled away from the glass, and dropped onto the dash. With sweat beading on my face, I kicked at a side window, again and again, but the window refused to break. Another chunk of debris smashed onto the hood of the car and sparks spewed past the windows. The air was getting hot, and thick with the taste of ashes and glue. I pounded the glass with my elbow and screamed, "Get me out of here!"

Cars had begun pulling off the road and there were people running back and forth seeming not to know what to do. A man was giving mouth-to-mouth respiration to one of the girls. The plastic padding on the dash began smoking, then bubbled like boiling water. The mirror mounted to the windshield wilted, slid down the glass, then dropped off. I lunged to the floor and looked up under the front seat. There was nothing there but paper trash.

Smoke now filled the interior of the chief's car and I could no longer see the windows. Perspiration soaked my clothes, and my lungs choked on the thick cloud. The fire had moved under the car and now totally engulfed it in flames. The heat was unbearable.

My God! Is this how my life is going to end? What is Mom going to think? And Dad?

I sucked at the cooler air under the seats, gagging and choking on the smoke. Another massive crash hit the car and I felt glass scatter over me. I tried to rise up, but couldn't move. The heat was too intense to even breathe. I held my breath listening to the rumble, hiss, and sizzle of the fire. Outside, I could hear the wail of fire trucks and the shouting of the crowd, then pounding on the car.

"Baimbridge!" The pounding continued. "Baimbridge!"

I felt the spray of cool water douse my hot skin. I heard the pounding of metal against metal and more glass shattering. I felt the pressure of the water as it washed me down and heard the sizzle of it as it turned to steam. My mind was awake, but my body was asleep. I felt myself being lifted and watched as though I was a witness—as though I was outside of my body seeing myself pass through the back glass into the arms of the firemen.

I saw myself carried to the patch of green grass and watched an EMT perform resuscitation. I saw the flames leaping a hundred feet in the air and the walls of the building collapse. Then everything turned white and faded away.