Agoraphobia

Day 834 (Tin Foil Hat)

Uncle Peter was a smart man, but he was a circuitous thinker who was often the last to come to a realization. He jumped to his feet and turned to where we keep the living room's fire extinguisher, but Jimmy had already taken it. Uncle Peter ran to the garage and returned with two extinguishers, carrying them under his arms like footballs. 

I could smell the smoke clearly by then and continued ringing the bell.

Uncle Peter ran into the hall, as wisps of smoke crawled across the ceiling. Penny was still there, wailing, wringing her hands, and blocking his path. He elbowed past her, and the twit fell over with a shriek.

Soon there was a crowd of people bottlenecking the hall. Some were trying to help. Others were trying to get away.

"The fire is in Beth and Jeannie's room!" shouted Mom.

"We can get in through the bathroom on the other side!" yelled Dad.

Over the sounds of people yelling, screeching, and coughing I could hear wood snapping, smoke detectors blaring, glass breaking, and the fire's low roar. 

For the agoraphobs, the Main House was their WHOLE world. For piratical purposes, nothing else existed. And the whole world was on fire!

As I continued to sound the alarm Jeannie continued her divinely-inspired exhortation. "...for doubt is the dark ichor running through the veins of the faithless; fire is God's tool of cleansing. So I call on all of you to embrace his final judgement!" Jeannie turned in my direction. "You, child!" she said, looking directly at me with eerily empty eyes that sucked in light and gave nothing back. "Why do you resist?" I stopped ringing the bell when I noticed her gliding toward me. Under her gaze my very bones froze within me. "The end of all things is at hand. This apocalypse is evidence of the righteous judgment of God." Jeannie's rapturous voice eerily cut through the cacophony of shrieks and shouts from the hall. "You should welcome this release from your life of defilement. Let's surrender to the raging fire with serenity in our hearts." Jeannie had closed the space between us and put her arms out to hug me. "Embrace the Lord as I have, and take your place at his side," she preached, looking up at the ceiling. "For in heaven, we—"

That's when I sucker-punched Jeannie, square in her stomach. She doubled over, but remained standing with her knees drawn together, clutching her midsection. Jeannie winced in pain, gritted her teeth, and grabbed my shoulder for balance. I slapped her hand off my shoulder, and she tipped over, crashing to the floor like a felled tree. Then she puked.

I grabbed Jeannie's legs and drug her outside. I left her in the yard, writhing in misery.

I heard glass breaking, looked up, and saw a partly broken window with smoke pouring out. I grabbed an axe from the chopping block, ran to the windows, and started smashing away. Out billowed dark smoke woven with sparks. I kept smashing until all of that room's windows were out. The smoke cleared a bit, and through it, I could see silhouettes of people spraying chemical foam at ungovernable flames.

I grabbed a slop bucket and scooped up water from the hogs' trough. When I ran back, Lenny was by the window, fanning the air with his hands, straining to see through smoke and tear-filled eyes. "Help!" he croaked, then yielded to a coughing fit. I offered him the bucket of water. He took it, disappeared into the opaque smoke, then returned the bucket to me empty. I filled it, and we repeated this process several times. The smoke became less and less intense. Eventually, we were throwing water on the scorched remains of what was once a stack of pillows.

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After the fire, Uncle Peter and I duct-taped Jeannie's hands behind her back.