The fire across the way

It happened like this. Jon Dooks was making dinner at home in his third-floor apartment. He got around on a wheelchair just fine. It had been perhaps 30 years since the accident and by now he was quite used to living on his own, even though at times he wished he had someone there to cook and care for him. Not a maid or a mother (who fussed over him whenever she visited) but a young beautiful woman. Dooks, you could say, had just about given up on ever finding one. For people like him, he thought, you had to be grateful that you were just alive. Anything else, if it happened at all, was not to be expected.  

That evening there was no sign of what would come. They say animals can sense things before we humans can. Maybe it’s just things in nature, like storms or earthquakes, and not anything else, but whatever it was, even his Siamese cat, Minkie, didn’t see it coming. It was a cold evening and Dooks was in the wheelchair with a blanket over his legs. The electric heater was turned up to the max and he had the television on and was listening to the news. They were talking about the state of the economy, corruption and power cuts. It was the same thing every night. He wondered how anyone could care any longer about it all. It was all just background noise. And then there on the television that all too familiar and annoying icon appeared under the news captions, warning residents to turn off all unnecessary power. Typical, he thought.

Across from Dooks, in the neighbouring apartment block, June Henricks was just finishing making dinner for herself and her three-year-old daughter Julie. Her kitchen window looked onto Dooks’ apartment. It was bangers and mash tonight, just like it had been the night before, with a few carrots and greens on the side. It was a simple meal that she had learnt to make from her mother. These days when she got back from the hospital she wasn’t in the mood to cook anything that took a long time to make, especially when she needed to put Julie to bed early. The television was on in the background and she had Julie perched on the sofa. In the kitchen, she’d just finished peeling the potatoes and placing them in a small pot on the stove. She looked sullen, perhaps you could even say drained. The day had taken a lot out of her. The ward was so busy and she’d been kept busy attending to all the new patients. All she really wanted to do was put her feet up.

From out of the kitchen she put her head around the corner and into the living room to check on Julie, who was sitting quietly in front of the television. The news was on. It was the same thing every night. She wondered why she bothered to listen. Then there in the lower left-hand corner of her screen she too saw the icon. It was too late to turn off the stove, she thought. How else were they going to eat tonight. She hoped they’d at least have power tonight.

Then bang. The lights went off. She was standing in the living room in the dark. She heard her daughter murmuring and called out to her. “It’s okay Julie. Don’t move, mommy is just going to get some candles.” She hurried to the kitchen to find them, feeling her way down the passage with her hands stretched out before her as she went.   

In the apartment across the way, Dooks had also all of a sudden found himself alone in the dark, with the lights out and the TV off. Minkie barely budged. For them and their night vision, the darkness must be natural, he thought, as he pushed the wheels of the wheelchair off in the direction of the drawer where he kept candles. He thought he knew his apartment, but tonight furniture of all kinds appeared in front of him, hitting his knees or the wheels of the wheelchair. The cat sprung from his lap and disappeared. Finding the drawer, his fingers pulled at the handle. He pushed a hand inside and skirted it along the floor of the drawer, from left to right and back again. His hand brushed over all sorts of contents, all except the familiar shape of long, thin wax candles. Where were they? he thought.

In the apartment across the way, a light flickered, bathing the lounge in a soft glow. June held Julie in her arms. “It’s okay,” she said. “We’re just going to have to have some bread and cheese.” June saw the disappointment in her face and put her back down. She ran to table set off to the side, where June had left her cellphone and picked it up, then dashed back to the couch where she sat herself down and began trawling the phone to find the inbuilt games. “That’s okay, you just amuse yourself,” I’ll make us some sandwiches.”

“Can I have peanut butter on mine,” she heard her say, as she disappeared into the kitchen.

When she was done making them, they sat there on the couch together facing one another and finished eating them. She smiled at Julie. “Thanks Mom,” she said. June smiled back, she was still in her blue-and-white nurse’s uniform. After they had finished eating, she lit another candle and led Julie to her room. “It’s bed time,” she said. She helped her undress and put on her long winter pyjamas and then she helped her climb into bed. When she was all tucked in, June lifted the candle away with her to the bathroom where she took a shower. The water was still hot, and she began to feel more relaxed, and even a bit drowsy, so much so that she decided she’d have an early night and turn in. After all, there was no knowing when the power would come back on. Sometimes it lasted two hours, sometimes longer. She blew the candle out and got into bed.

Across the way, Dooks had given up looking for the candles, even though he could’ve sworn he’d bought new ones recently. It was early still, but without any light what was there to do but to call it an early night. It was cold anyhow, and with the power out it was only going to get colder. He backed out of his lounge and wheeled himself towards the bedroom with extra force. When he was finally lying in bed under a heap of blankets, he felt something land between his legs. It was Minkie who had come to look for a warm spot. His head sunk back and he closed his eyes to go to sleep.

The way June may have remembered it, it was some hours later when she woke suddenly from her sleep and fumbled for the bedside light. It went on. With a sigh of relief, she clambered out of bed and wondered into the kitchen for a glass of water. She had barely rubbed the sleep from her eyes but before her, she could see an orange glow flickering in the kitchen window across from her apartment. At first she imagined the bright light to be a candle, or a number of candles, but something did not look right. Thick black smoke was coming out of the kitchen’s fly light window, billowing out in great big folds. Could this be happening? Had a fire broken out in the apartment across from her? Who was inside? Outside everything was quiet. She listened and thought she could hear a faint crackling sound as the glow of the flames ebbed and flowed behind the window in the apartment across from her.

She raced back to her bedroom. Googling the number of the emergency services she called. The phone rang and rang. Someone finally answered. “There’s a fire at Twickenham Court in Russell Road. Come quick,” she panted into the phone. Without a further thought she found herself pulling on her clothes – a pair of three-day old jeans, a t-shirt from her cupboard and hoody with a surfing brand’s logo on the front of it. Dashing out, she stopped at Julie’s room and looked at her briefly, curled up and sleeping there. She’ll be safe, the fire was in the other block, she thought to herself. Heaven forbid something was to happen to her. But would she, June, be okay?

It was too late to think of that. She rushed out and down the steps and out of the apartment’s front door downstairs. Outside the smell of burning plastic or chemicals lay thick in the air. The entrance to the apartment across the way lay on the road behind her block. When she got there panic set in as she stared at four rows of buttons on the intercom. Which one should she press? Without a further thought, she began pressing all of them, one after the next. She heard a ringing sound as the bell sounded in the various apartments across the block. She waited. Then she heard a voice, a woman’s voice, all groggy from sleep, emerge from the speaker of the intercom. “Can I help you?” the woman said. “There’s a fire,” June replied, her voice shaking. “It’s coming from your block.” There was a brief silence and then she thought she heard a sigh and a murmur, before the voice exclaimed, “what, really?” The gate unlatched.

Inside, the toxic smell of burning plastic grew stronger, as she made her way down the entrance passage. As she climbed the stairs she saw a thick blanket of fumes clinging to the ceiling above. Where were the fire rescue people? she thought to herself. Where were the neighbours even? She heard a voice coming from somewhere above her, in the stairwell. She climbed to the third-floor, it had to be here she thought to herself – the same level she lived on. “Up here, it’s up here,” she heard the voice shout. Figures had emerged from their apartments. Some were standing at their doors. When she got to the third level she saw that thick black smoke had filled the landing. There in the smoke, to the one side, was an old woman, signalling with an outstretched hand, while she held another hand over her mouth and nose. “It’s over here,” she called out. “You better hurry. I’ve called the fire brigade, they should be here any moment now.”

“Is anyone in there?” asked June, as the old woman just stood there.

“It’s a man. He’s in a wheelchair.”

There was no one else with her, when she passed the kitchen window where she had seen the glow of the blaze. It was impossible to see anything inside. Everything behind the window was covered in a thick black cloud. The glow of flames was still visible. She coughed. The fumes were getting heavier. She looked out across the walkway, at her block and could make out the outlines of her own apartment, which was partially lit up by an outside security light. She briefly thought of Julie. What if it had been her inside, with all that black smoke?

She thumped on the door. Harder and harder. “Hello, is anyone in there?” she shouted. No one opened. Then a figure, perhaps one of the residents appeared before her, with a small fire hydrant. Still holding it, he flung it against a window. The glass shattered and they both jumped back. She in fright and he to avoid being injured. Another figure, a man, arrived with another fire hydrant and together these men began to smash each window, pane by pane. Black smoke poured out each time the glass fell away, so much so that the men were left choking on the fume, struggling to breathe. June watched as they men together began attacking the remaining broken glass, clearing it away from one of the windows. “Quick, get me in there. Lift me up,” she called out to the two men. They were both shaking their heads. But before she knew it she had a foot on the mantelpiece, her body bent and angled as she hopped down to the wooden floor. She wasn’t thinking of anything.

Inside you couldn’t see a thing. She didn’t know where she was. A thick black smoke covered everything. She remembered her training as an emergency responder, to hit the ground and crawl, because smoke rises. But before she could get to the floor she ran into a cupboard, a table and chairs. She thought of turning around. But before she knew it she was in the hallway. The fire it seemed was coming from a room off the hallway. Perhaps she could open the front door. But her hand shot back as soon as she touched the handle, which was boiling hot. She resolved to find the man in the wheelchair. She began calling out, “hello, is anyone there”. There was no answer. Off the hallway she found another door. It was closed, but this time she took off her hoody and wrapping it around her hand like an oven glove, she opened the door. It swung open and she fell back to the floor. From inside she thought she heard a cat howling. She moved inside. There folded up and propped up against the wall was a wheelchair. Crawling around on all fours, something landed on her. It was the cat, Minkie that had leapt from the bed and had made for the open door. She shot out an arm in surprise, to try to catch the animal and brushed against the bed. She crawled onto the bed and hung onto the blanket and duvet, as if it were a rock outcrop she was clinging too. No sooner did she edge forward, then she felt the body of a figure, that lay beneath the blankets. It had to be him. She could just make out faintly, the man’s head as he lay there on the pillow as if in a deep sleep, his eyes closed. Instinctively she shook him to try wake him. “Hey wake up,” she shouted. “Get up, there’s been a fire.” She continued, rocking him to and fro. More and more violently, the longer he didn’t react. She slapped him on his face and yet he lay there, motionless. She continued to shout and hit him. He should feel the blows, for he was only paralysed from the waist down. And all this time the smoke was growing thicker and blacker. Her coughing was getting heavier. She was struggling to breathe and her body was growing fainter and fainter. She held on, because what else could she do. She would just rest, just a little, she thought to herself. He would soon wake. They would soon be out of there.

Outside, the fire brigade had finally arrived. A whole team of men sprung out of the fire truck bringing with them water hoses, a medical kit and fire axes to break down Dooks’ front door. The figures were still there standing anxiously at their doorways, the two men who earlier had smashed open all the windows with fire hydrants and cleared the glass so that June could get inside to help were dispensing of the last of the fire retardant from their fire hydrants as the firemen raced up to Dooks’ apartment. “There’s a woman in there and a man in a wheelchair,” they said, as they pointed to the window they’d helped her climb into. The cat had sprung through the window earlier and had kept running, even when they tried calling after it. The two men stepped aside and watched as two firemen, clad all in red uniforms took turns in a kind of synchronised relay, the one having a go, then the other, to hack away at the front door. They wrenched away large slabs of wood that they pulled from the door and flung to the side. Men stood behind them with long hoses that lead down the stairs and to the road outside. They aimed the hoses at where the flames were coming out of the apartment. The figures of residents stood by watching the scene unfold.

When they found them, June and Dooks were together on the bed. He lay there frozen beneath the duvet and blanket, as if asleep, her arms around him, as if still hoping to hear his breath. The firemen, sweat pouring from their faces marked with black, stood there not saying a word. In the next room, the men with hoses had already doused the flames. The fire was over. It was an electrical fault, they would later discover, likely from the electric heater, likely a power surge. In the apartment across the way Julie slept soundly, wrapped in a deep sleep, while two black body bags left the apartment across the way, together.