Fire Escape

Geoff’s phone kept ringing. He knew it was Madelaine, his hysterical friend… girlfriend? ‘Mad,’ for short. Who else?

He didn’t pick up. He knew what it was about. He didn’t need to hear, again, how foolhardy he was to move into the hills.

He was busy. Half an hour ago the evacuation order gave him an hour. Wind buffeted his house. Hundred mile per hour gusts were predicted. A siren wailed by.

No rain for months. Fire was racing down the canyon toward him, driven by Santa Ana winds.

Everything in his life had gone insane. He had minutes to choose what he couldn’t live without. Irreplaceable things. Survival things.

Despite the annual warnings, he always put off preparing. Too busy. Now he had no time. Still, Geoff considered it an empty exercise. ‘Good in theory but a waste of time. This stuff happens to people on the news. You think, how horrible. Those poor people. What a shame... It happens to others. Not me. Never me.’

Helicopters rumbling by rattled the windows. Must they fly so low? Doesn’t the backwash fan the flames?

He glanced out to see the Camphor tree branches whipping around like dancers at a rave. The constant roar of the wind made him edgy.

Geoff snorted. ‘What a waste. All this hysteria. The government loves herding everyone into shelters. Hope they have good movies there… What next? What do you take for an overdose of positive ions?’

Before the power went off, Geoff had checked online. The extensive list made no sense. ‘Where do I get an Apocalypse brand radiation suit?’

He’d piled his kitchen table with designated essentials. He inventoried while packing his rollaway.

·        An ax.

‘Right. Like I’m going to cut more firewood. Exactly who people at the shelter want, an ax wielding troll. Think I look like a lumberjack? Not happening.’

·        Weapons.

‘Likewise. Rambo, I’m not.’

·        Cash.

Finding his stash of twenties, he frowned at how few he had and stuffed them into his jeans pocket. ‘Take Mad to dinner and laugh about this.’

·        Food / water.

Geoff tossed some protein bars into the case. A gallon jug stood by. ‘Should be enough.’

·        Can opener.

‘Cause it comes with a bottle opener.’

·        Cooler.

‘If there’s room.’

·        Flashlight.

‘In the cell phone.’

·        1st aid kit.

He tossed a box of band aids into the suitcase.

·        Blanket.

‘Fancy schmancy. I’ll carry that.’

·        Sleeping bag.

‘Nope. Rather sleep in the car.’

·        Tent.  

‘Not a camping trip.’

·        Fire starter.

‘What I need, more fire.’

·        Changes of clothes.

He jammed a few rolled-up t-shirts, underwear and socks into the case.

·        Spare shoes.

‘Not Imelda Marcos. Traveling light.’

·        Pen and notebook.

‘Anyone even know how to use these anymore?’

·        Laptop.

‘Duh!’

·        Cell phone and charger.

‘More vital than air.’

·        Spare reading glasses.

‘Can’t forget those.’

·        Hand sanitizer. Soap. Shampoo.

Done.

Done.

Done.

·        Deodorant.

‘Top priority.’

·        Toothbrush.

‘Sheesh! Almost forgot…’

·        Toilet paper.

‘What did the Pilgrims do?’

·        Meds.

‘Nope. No prescriptions. Maybe aspirin…’

·        Liquor.

‘Not listed. But essential. All purpose for meds.’

He nestled an almost full fifth of vodka into his clothing.

·        Driver’s license / passport / car registration / insurance.

‘Well, duh! Just what you forget when racing around in a panic. Passport’s gone missing. Time’s up.’

·        Phone numbers.

‘In my head.’

·        Keepsakes and pictures.

He jammed a shoe box full of snapshots into the case. ‘Everything’s on my phone, or the cloud.’

He grabbed a framed photo of his parents holding his infant self. He cushioned it between clothing and zipped the case shut.

Geoff’s phone rang again. He didn’t answer. “Stop it, Mad. I’m on my way.”

His doorbell sounded.

‘Now what? Don’t waste my time.’

He opened the door to the acrid smell of smoke. Ralph, his neighbor, stood looking windblown and panicked.

He shouted over the wind. “Hey! Geoff, right? Can I ride with you? Car battery’s dead.”

Another fire truck raced by siren blaring. A line of cars crept downhill.

Since moving into his rental house two years ago, Geoff had lived next door to Ralph. They nodded when crossing paths at their mailboxes and pulling into or out of their driveways. One thing they had in common was their desire for privacy and wanting to be left-the-hell-alone. No loud parties. No gunfire. No drama. They got along fine. Geoff didn’t remember ever actually speaking to him.

‘Wait, someone introduced us down at the village store around Thanksgiving… He seemed okay.’

Geoff tossed his car keys to Ralph. The Corolla wasn’t huge but would accommodate a couple of small suitcases.

“Traveling light. Load up… Leaving in five…” He called after him. “Leave me room!”

Pushing against the wind, he shut the door. Returning to the kitchen he noticed the picture on the wall. Within the massive frame was a postcard sized print of a Victorian era painting.  It depicted a woman in a disheveled white gown lying on a storm-tossed beach. The silhouette of a sinking ship loomed in the distance.

The picture always amused Geoff. He’d seen many like it. ‘Those melodramatic Victorians loved drowning maidens…’ However skillfully painted, he always found the subject matter overwrought. ‘So beautiful, so tragic. So clichéd.’

Geoff’s great-grandmother brought it when immigrating a century ago. The real treasure, the gilded frame overwhelmed the image.

More sirens drew him into the present.

‘Should I take it? That gold leaf frame is worth ten times the picture. So ostentatious… Is there room?’

Inherited, it was his sole tie to his family’s history. The picture and a few family photos were irreplaceable.

Geoff lifted it off the wall and set it gently by the door.

He looked around and spoke to the empty house. “See you…”

Bracing against the wind, he walked out and stopped.

“What?”

His car was nowhere in sight. He walked down the hill to Ralph’s house. Debris flew by. Coming round the Camphor tree by the driveway, he spotted his Toyota, packed to the gills, and locked.

Ralph exited his house and seeing Geoff, stopped short.

Geoff said, “What are you doing? Give me my keys. I need to load my stuff.” His phone rang. Geoff ignored it.

Ralph said nothing. A helicopter rumbled overhead. Leaves swirled like a cloud of locusts.

Geoff raised his voice. “You kidding? Stealing my car?” Neither spoke as they faced off. “Think you’ll leave me here?”

Geoff knew he could beat him if it came to that. He wanted to slap him silly, to hurt him. But there wasn’t time. They needed to escape the approaching fire.                                                        

Geoff got close and Ralph back pedaled. Gusts of wind buffeted them. Geoff’s hat blew off. He didn’t pursue it.

“Unload your crap.”

Barely above the wind, he said, “I need it.”

“Keep it. But I won’t take it.”

Ralph froze. His eyes bugged. Geoff turned and lunged.

“Look out!”

They both fell behind the car as the Camphor tree crashed down just shy of the car. Their escape route was blocked.  

Desperate, Ralph grabbed a branch and pulled in vain. Screaming, he kicked the ground. The branches snapped back. Another gust forced them to fight for balance.

“No!”

Shaking his head in defeat, Ralph handed Geoff his keys.

“You have rope? Maybe drag it away.”

Despondent, Ralph said, “No. Never needed rope.”

‘What’s going on? Everything’s different.’ This was no longer a drill. The threat was real.

Another siren wailed by.

‘Where’s my peace? My privacy? My life?’

His phone startled him.

“Mad…”

She said, “Where are you?”

“Stop it Mad. I’m trying to meet a deadline…”

“I’ve been trying to reach you. You’re safe. The evac’s canceled. You’re safe…”

Geoff paused. “There’s been a setback. But I’m on my way.”

“Didn’t you hear? You don’t have to…”

“Thanks for not giving up. Sorry I’m so distracted. I owe you.”

“No. You don’t. I called because I care.”

“Got it... See you soon.”

Geoff disconnected and started walking.

Ralph called out. “Where you goin’?”

Geoff didn’t turn around. “Be right back.”

Leaning into the wind, he walked up and into his garage. The side door banged. Coming out, he walked back down.

He handed Ralph an ax.

Indicating the fallen tree, he said, “Start chopping. There.”

He pointed to where Ralph should concentrate. While he hacked away, Geoff unloaded Ralph’s luggage. He threw it toward the house.

The wind raged, but it didn’t affect him anymore. Fewer emergency vehicles went up the hill. Their sirens relieved him. The crisis had passed.

Out of breath, Ralph paused and turned to Geoff, who stood and nodded impassively.

Ralph resumed chopping. Eventually, the tree top creaked and settled. Geoff took the ax and finished the job. The tree broke apart. Grabbing branches, the two pivoted the tree top and opened a path down the driveway.

Geoff placed the ax into the car’s trunk. He got in and started his car.

Ralph protested. “My stuff… The fire… Abandoning me? What can I do?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

 Gunning the engine, he drove up to his place.

Once inside, Geoff rehung the antique picture. He took the rollaway out and locked the house. He slung it into the back seat and drove. He didn’t know how long he’d be gone.

He called Madelaine. “Mad. I’m about ten minutes out.”

“Geoff, you don’t have to come… it’s crazy out.”

“I’m not escaping, Mad. I’m driving to see you… you care.”

“Really…? Oh, good. I’ll see you soon.”

Traffic heading downhill only slowed for fallen debris. Geoff felt good.