Snapshot (36 page)

Marti gripped the balcony railing. She’d have to jump. It was the only way down. She quickly did the calculations in her head. The first floor ceiling was probably sixteen feet high with its floor to ceiling windows. The second floor was the same. That put her at over thirty feet up. Way too high. Could she survive the fall?

The cement slab below was cluttered with wrought-iron furniture, trash bins, and lawn equipment. None of it looked like a safe landing. No soft grass.
 

If she jumped, she’d break a leg, maybe her neck. A small flowering tree grew to the side of the patio, but was too far for her to reach and too small to land in, anyway. She returned to her room, closing the door tight, and, checked for other escape options.
 

Tendrils of smoke curled in under the door. The fire was spreading fast, or at least the smoke was. She needed to keep the smoke out if she wanted to survive. She grabbed pillows off her bed and jammed them against the bottom of the door.
 

Kahlua mewed, unhappy with the smoky stench. The sight of her cat, crying for help, set Marti into action. She would not let Kahlua die in this fire! This was one thing she could control.
 

She hoped.
 

Marti approached her beloved cat. Kahlua tried to dart away, but Marti scooped her up. “Gotcha!”

She pulled Kahlua close. “This is going to be scary, but you’re smart and stubborn and I know you can do it!”

Marti opened the balcony door and scorching air blasted her. New terror hit as she edged her way into the volcano-like winds.
 

“You better have nine lives, ‘cause I think you’re going to need them.” She kissed Kahlua on the head, then gripped the cat by the nape of the neck. With every ounce of nerve and strength she possessed, she flung the cat as far as she could toward the distant tree.
 

Kahlua screamed and disappeared into the tree branches. Marti prayed she hadn’t just killed her. Her tears welled. She would never be able to erase the snapshot of her cat flailing through the smoke-filled air.
 

A spray of sparks flew at her. She jumped into the bedroom, yanked the door closed and dropped to the floor. A couple sparks made it inside and burned holes in the carpet. She grabbed a shoe and furiously rubbed them out, frightened by how quickly the carpet burned.
 

Marti’s throat tightened. She swallowed back her newfound panic. No one even knew she was up here. Rosa did, but Rosa wasn’t here. Her dad would have no idea. For all he knew, she was at the party.
 

Smoke seeped into the room from air ducts like the hands of death. Oh god. She would die alone, and they might never find her. Adam would hear about her death on the news.
 

She wanted to call and hear his voice one last time. She picked up her phone, about to dial, but realized her only hope might be to call 911 and tell them her location. She refused to go down without a fight.

She entered the number and the first ring took forever. Outside sparks flew by like the fireflies at summer camp.

“Hello, 911, Emergency Call Center. What is your emergency?”

“My house is on fire, and I’m trapped!” She tried to stay calm and not freak out.

“What is your name, please?”

“My name is Marti Hunter, and I’m at my dad’s house.” She recited the address. “I’m trapped, and I can’t get out!”

“Marti, try to calm down. We have units on site. Where in the house are you?” The woman used a slow, patient voice. Marti wanted to scream at her that this was life or death!

“I’m on the third floor at the far end of the south wing. Please have someone help me.” Marti spit the words out as fast as she could.

“I’m alerting them now. Exactly what room are you in?”

Marti gave her all the details of her location and the entrances. The smell of the burning mansion overpowered her. Outside, flames reached the balcony.

“The fire’s at the balcony door!” she cried.
 

“Marti, I need you to stay low to the ground and try to calm down. Help is on the way. They will find you, but you need to keep your wits,” the dispatcher continued in a soothing tone.
 

Marti wanted to scream. The woman wasn’t trapped in a burning building. “I am. I will.” She fixated on the flames outside her patio door dancing higher and higher. She thought of Adam and how badly she wanted to see him and now she might not, if the firefighters couldn’t get to her in time. She coughed as the air thickened.

“Marti, are you doing okay?” the woman asked, keeping tabs on her.

“I’m okay, but I’m gonna hang up.”
 

“Don’t hang up! I want you to stay on the line.” A sense of urgency now laced the woman’s voice.

“I need to call my boyfriend. I have to. I’m sorry.” She ended the call as the woman protested. The air in the room darkened. Marti looked up. Smoke now poured through the air vents like a waterfall.
 

“Oh no!” She quickly pressed Adam’s number and waited an eternity she didn’t have as his phone rang. And rang. And rang. Her heart sank. He wasn’t going to pick up. His voicemail answered and she thought about hanging up, but then decided not to.
 

At the sound of the beep, she cleared her throat and tried to sound normal.

*
 
*
 
*

The wheels touched down at LAX. Adam wanted to whoop with excitement. Instead he drummed his fingers on the armrest until he could finally deplane. He turned on his phone and saw he had twelve messages.
 

No big surprise. By now his family would be livid. He had missed the SNL performance. Funny thing, he didn’t even care. He meant it when he said he quit the band. He didn’t need their overbearing manipulation any more. He could do whatever he wanted.

Walking through the terminal with a cap pulled low on his brow, he fought to hide his grin. Freedom! Soon he’d be with Marti. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he showed up at her door.
 

He passed a sports bar and noticed people crowded around the TVs. He paused for a second to see what national disaster had struck this time.
 

The news network reported on a major fire in the Hollywood Hills. He began to walk away when he noticed the message feed at the bottom of the screen. “Live footage: Steven Hunter’s Hollywood Hills Mansion In Flames.”
 

Adam nearly dropped his bag. He pushed closer. A newscaster reported: “Steven Hunter, lead guitarist for the legendary rock band Graphite Angels, was hosting a party when flames broke out. We still don’t know if all attendees made it out safely, but will bring you an update you as soon as we have it.
 
The cause of the fire is yet unknown, but high winds have caused the fire to spread quickly, making it more difficult to contain.”

Marti!
 

He pushed out of the crowd and called her as he rushed for the airport exit.
 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he muttered.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded raw and tense.

“Marti! Oh my god, I’m so glad to hear your voice. I just saw the news. Is that your house? Are you okay?”

“Oh Adam, I’m so sorry.”
 

He heard her sniff back tears.

“Why are you sorry, what’s wrong?”

“I wanted to see you so badly.”
 

He heard her sniffle and cough. He stopped dead in his tracks. “Marti, where are you? Are you safe? Answer me right now!”

“I’m trapped in my room. I can’t get out! And the smoke is getting really bad.” She coughed again.

His blood ran cold. “Marti, I’m here! I’m in LA. I’m coming right now.” He started to run.

“Really? You came early.”
 

He pictured the smile on her tear-streaked face and wanted to cry. “Tell me, where in your room are you?” He ran through the baggage claim area, out the doors to the taxi stand and rushed to a random cab.

“I’m on the floor, near my bed.”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay. It’s getting hard to breathe, and it’s really hot. It makes the heat in the sauna at camp seem like air conditioning.”
 

He detected the panic just under the surface of her voice, as if she was fighting to stay calm.

“Marti, can you get to a bathroom?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Marti said.

“Do it!”
 

The cabbie turned to him, annoyed. “Sorry kid, you’ve got to wait in line like everyone else. I can’t take you ‘til I get to the head of the line.”
 

Adam pulled the phone away from his mouth. “This is a huge emergency. I can’t wait in line. Please take me!” He pulled a bunch of bills out of his wallet and tossed them on the seat.
 

The surly man nodded. “Let’s go.”

He told the driver the address. “Marti?”
 

“I’m here. I’m in the bathroom.”

“Close the door! Now fill the bathtub with water.” Adam ignored the cabbie’s curious look in the rearview mirror.

“Get a towel wet and block the bottom of the door.” He couldn’t get the image of the burning mansion he’d seen on TV out of his mind. Flames engulfed half the building.

Marti coughed some more. “Okay. Done.”

“Now get in the bathtub. You’ll be safer. And cover your mouth with something so it’s easier to breathe.”

“You want me to take my clothes off too?” She laughed and then started to hack.

He smiled. “You’re such a smartass. That’s what I first liked about you.”

“And I liked the way you kissed. Little did I know you were a virgin.”

“So were you!” For a moment he forgot the danger surrounding her. Her coughing brought reality crushing back. He could tell it was getting harder for her to speak.

“Adam, I’m gonna hang up now,” she wheezed.

“No! Don’t. I’m on my way, and I want you to stay on the phone with me until I get there.” He feared that if he let her hang up, he’d lose her forever.

“Adam.” She coughed harder. “I’m scared.”
 

She sounded small and distant. “I know. I’m scared too, but it’s going to be all right. It is, I know it is.” He prayed it would be. The cabbie glanced in the rearview mirror and then averted his eyes when Adam caught him.

“I’m having trouble breathing.” She coughed uncontrollably. He pictured her struggling to find clean air. “After I hang up, call 911. Tell them I’m in the bathroom. They know where the bedroom is, but not that I’m in the tub.”
 

Her voice sounded resigned, and he knew she was trying to say goodbye. He wouldn’t let her.

“I will.” His voice broke. She tried to say something, but was wracked with more coughing. He gripped the phone like a lifeline, like if he only held on tight enough, she’d be okay. He waited for her to catch her breath, but all he heard was uncontrollable coughing.
 

The phone went dead.

“Marti! Marti!” He yelled into the phone, but she was gone. He dialed her back, but she didn’t pick up. His hand dropped to his side. He stared out the window, his world falling to pieces.

*
 
*
 
*

Marti’s phone dropped over the edge of the tub as she choked out cough after cough. The air, so hot, burned her lungs. She wrung out a washcloth and held it over her face. That helped. She concentrated all her energy on trying to breath.
 

The house crackled and roared as the fire ate through it. Outside the bathroom window, flames grew higher and higher, threatening to close in. Marti clung to the sides of the tub, trying to blink through the thickening air. The fumes made her nauseous, and her throat burned.
 

She didn’t want to die. She was too young. The water pressure slowed, but still ran. Maybe the water in the tub would save her. Each breath scorched her throat raw. She hacked, trying to get air, but each breath provided less oxygen. She clawed at the washcloth, desperate to breathe through it. Too much soot coated her throat. She dipped under water where the cool liquid soothed her body, but still starved her of air. She burst up from the water gasping, the cloth still over her mouth.
 

She couldn’t breathe.
 

*
 
*
 
*

Trapped in the cab, Adam was going insane. He kept telling himself Marti would be okay, she had to be. He wouldn’t accept anything less.
 

“Please hurry,” he said again to the driver.

“Doing the best I can,” he replied, and Adam had to agree, the man drove like a maniac.

He scanned his phone, hoping Marti would call back and say this was all a big misunderstanding and that she was fine and relaxing by a pool somewhere. He glanced through all the missed calls from his family and zeroed in on Marti’s. She’d left him a message! From what he could tell, she had called right before he landed. He played the message.