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My apartment was on fire.
I scrambled out of bed as flames surged across the ceiling of my bedroom. Smoke burned my throat on every breath and I tugged the collar of my pajamas up around my nose and mouth.
Crawling on my hands and knees, I headed for the door. I couldn’t see anything beyond the flickering glow of the fire but I knew my apartment by heart. Since there were no windows in my bedroom, my only chance of escape was through the living room.
When I emerged into the hallway, it was pitch black with smoke. My eyes watered and my vision blurred but I put my head down, feeling my way along. Ashes dusted the carpet and made it gritty to the touch.
Then a noise made me stop.
At first, the screech of my fire alarm and the roar of the fire was all I could hear. Then a voice, muffled and distant, filtered through the noise. Unmistakeable. I would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Fire department! Call out!”
“Jay,” I croaked.
My throat was raw and my voice was barely more than a whisper. He couldn’t hear me over the noise. I kept calling anyway, kept saying his name as tears coursed down my face.
I wanted Jay.
A hand fell on my shoulder. The masked face of a fireman came into view.
“I’ve got you, baby. I’m here.”
Jay clasped my hand as he tucked me tight against his body, shielding me from the heat of the flames.
“Hold onto me, Rosie. Don’t let go.”
As he led me out of the apartment, I entrusted every step to him. I couldn’t see anything but he confidently navigated the smoke-filled rooms until the red glow of fire truck lights emerged bright and clear.
“Need a paramedic over here!” Jay barked.
He didn’t let go of my hand until I was seated on a gurney, an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth. I tugged on his sleeve and pointed toward the duplex.
“Mrs. Steinheim,” I rasped, my voice so hoarse that I could barely speak.
Jay frowned in confusion and shook his head.
“I don’t understand, baby. What’s wrong?”
I coughed and shoved the oxygen mask aside.
“My neighbor, Mrs. Steinheim. She’s in her eighties, lives alone. Is she safe?”
Jay touched my cheek, his gloves heavy and coarse but his touch achingly gentle.
“We’ll get her out, I promise.”
Then he turned away and gave a sharp whistle.
“Hackman and Keith, you’re with me. We’ve got an elderly woman still inside. Let’s go.”
As the paramedic situated the mask back over my nose and mouth, I watched as Jay ran back into the burning building, his figure swallowed by the smoke and flames.
Seconds ticked by.
The building groaned. Fresh sparks surged into the air. Ashes turned the white snow to a dismal gray.
“Come on, Jay,” I muttered.
