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Cutting his clothes off.
Gabriel fought. Hard.
Then hands were pinning him down, men yelling that “whoa, whoa, whoa” they did when someone was absolutely out of control.
“Take it easy.” A fireman was kneeling over him, adjusting the oxygen mask now that he was pinned to the ground. The woman’s voice again, but he couldn’t see anything but her eyes.
“We’re trying to help you. Is anyone else out there?”
He shook his head fiercely. “Let me up. Let me up. I need to get my brothers.”
She glanced up at the woods, where fire still raged. “In there?”
“No. Home.” He fought again, but there must have been a lot of guys holding him down. He couldn’t get purchase. “Please.
The fire . . . spreading ”
“We’ve got it,” she said. She put a hand against his face. He could smell smoke on her palm, but it felt nice and reminded him of his mother for half an instant. “Just settle down and let us see how bad the burns are.”
“They’re not,” said a guy near his feet.
“What?” She turned her head.
“They’re not,” the guy said. “Hannah, this kid doesn’t have a mark on him.”
“Please,” said Gabriel. He sounded pathetic, his voice croak-ing like an old smoker. “Please let me up. I’m okay.”
She was staring down at him with something like disbelief.
“Sit him in the back of the bus,” said another guy. “Let him get some more oxygen in there and we’ll reassess.”
“The bus” turned out to be an ambulance. Gabriel sat, wrapped in a blanket, breathing oxygen he probably didn’t need, watching his flames turn to smoke, flashing lights from the fire trucks bouncing off the billowing darkness.
They’d taken his name and address, and then left him alone so they could deal with more important things.
But then that girl firefighter was back, her helmet off, a spill of blond hair tucked into her reflective coat. She was younger than he’d thought, early twenties maybe. Her expression was all business, no compassion now that he wasn’t dying.
“What happened?” she said.
I started a fire. Gabriel shook his head, looking at anything but her face.
“They found a lighter in your pocket,” she said. “Were you smoking out there?”
He coughed. “No.”
“Did you start a fire on purpose?”
He shook his head again and felt his throat tighten. His eyes burned. He had to swallow twice. No way he could lie right now; she’d see right through it. He couldn’t even think straight to come up with a story. “I was just walking.”
“Did you see anyone?”
He shook his head. At least that was the truth. “The leaves were on fire.” He coughed again, and it hurt. Maybe he did need the oxygen. “It spread fast.”
She took the mask out of his hands and pressed it to his face again. That compassion was back. “No kidding.”
“Gabriel.”
He jerked his head up. Michael stood a few feet behind her, the emergency lights flickering off his hair and clothes, turning his eyes red and his expression frightening. It was an intense look, a fierce look. A grown-up look.
