13 Days

My body jolts awake. My ears are ringing with the high pitched sound of silence for several long moments. Just as I close my eyes the room explodes with sound.

BAM BAM BAM

I roll out of bed and scramble for my safe under the nightstand. I press my face into the carpet and reach all the way back. My fingertips graze the cold metal edges and I drag it out into the dim light. My hands are trembling and I draw a complete blank as the numbers dance in front of me.

BAM BAM BAM

"Los Angeles Fire Department! Open the door! You are in immediate danger!"

My hands stop fumbling as the words settle into my soul.

Fire.

I rush to my bedroom door and fling it open then freeze as I take in the truth of the situation. Every single one of my floor to ceiling windows is a burning yellow orange. The entire hillside is tangled in bright tendrils of fire suffocating the life out of everything in it's path. I force myself to move across the foyer, but every single step feels like pushing against a wall of running water. "I'm coming!" I call out. Just as I reach for the door handle the door bursts open and I fall backward onto the hard stone floor. Standing in front of me are two yellow monsters with hoses protruding from shiny masks on their faces. One of them reaches down to touch me and I violently shrink back into myself.

I hear a hollow breathy voice say, "Are you alone. Is there any other people or pets that will need assistance evacuating the property."

My mind feels like jelly. I can hear the words, but they feel like they are disconnected. Like they are not to do with me or for me to respond to.

"Evacuate," I hear myself whisper.

Just then a giant gloved arm curls around me, yanks me up to my feet and slams me down. My head snaps back and I feel my teeth sink into my tongue. I can feel blood begin to fill my mouth.

The masked intruder, a firefighter I now realize, puts his rough gloves on my cheeks and says slowly and clearly, "I need to know if you are alone here."

I bob my head frantically trying to ignore the surge of pain in my mouth.

He says, "You have 5 minutes to pack some things in a bag. We're going to go outside and set up your sprinklers and do what we can."

I am still bobbing my head like a broken doll when he yells, "GO!"

I shuffle back in stunned silence and turn slowly to take in my new home. The uncorked bottle of champagne from my real estate team still sitting on the half wall. "I should have opened it," my voice croaks and catches in my throat.

13 days. My entire inheritance to purchase my mother's dream home. Her only request to me in her entire life. I closed on the house 13 days ago. Suddenly, I snap into action as the weight of the situation begins to penetrate my thoughts. I run to my bedroom and jerk open the closet. I grab the only bag that I have unpacked, my little high school gym bag. I dump it on the floor and race up the stairs. On top of my desk I have a box of my mother's things. I rip open the box and carefully remove the beautiful heart shaped ceramic box with two golden doves on top. I trace my finger over the doves and then place the little box into the bottom of the bag. I reach back into the box and frantically shove the items around until I feel the envelope with moms photos and necklace.

"TWO MINUTES!" a voice bellows through the house.

My heart is beating in my throat as I take the stairs two and three at a time going back down to my bedroom. Once there I tear a sweatshirt off of a hanger and pull it on. Then I slide my feet into an old pair of sandals with blue paint drops on the top. The last time I wore these was when I was helping my mom paint her bathroom. It was the most hideous shade of blue and I teased her relentlessly. I can still hear her laughter echoing in the bathroom when a hand grabs my shoulder and turns me around.

This time it is a man, not a mask that is staring into my eyes. I can feel my cheeks hot with tears. His eyes soften for just a moment and the damn breaks. I feel an enormous sob choke out of me and my shoulders begin to shake. Then, we are moving.

As we move through the house my eyes are drawn to my beautiful kitchen with the brand new granite countertop that took months to settle on. Then to the artwork that I spent every lunch for over a year choosing. Casually leaning up against the wall waiting to be put in just the right place. My mom's sofa. Bundled in protective bubble wrap. I spent years on that couch. First growing up, then 8 months of late nights watching mom in her recliner as her chest rose and fell with every beep of the machine. Then the last night when the beep never came.

With a shove I am standing outside being hustled to a truck at the end of the driveway. As I am being boosted into the seat I see a snake of flames slithering it's way up the trunk of the Giant Oak at the edge of the yard. I clutch my bag to my chest and fight to watch my mom's sofa through the window as long as I can.

"How long have you lived here?" a voice shouts over the engine noise.

13 days I mutter out of numb lips as we turn the corner and my house disappears into the smoke.