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I fumbled with the keys from the coffee table and got it in the hole on my third attempt. The lock undid with a click, and I pulled the door open to black smoke filling the hallway. Fire alarms blared through the air with the one exception:
Mine.
I’d never replaced the batteries.
Mr. Jennings’ door was closed opposite mine, and I dashed back inside for my phone. I had no idea where the fire had started or what was going on, but I had to call nine-one-one and see if my neighbor was okay.
With a shaking hand, I tapped the number and hit call. The operator answered and I had no idea what I was saying. I was on my knees, banging on Mr. Jennings’ door, trying to stay as low as I could to avoid taking in too much smoke.
I was halfway through saying I was trying to get my neighbor when the door opened. “Hold on! He’s here!” I almost shouted to the operator.
“Good grief!” Mr. Jennings shouted. “What’s going on?”
“Ma’am? Do you have him?” the operator asked in my ear.
“I do. Yes!” I got up as far as I dared.
“Both of you inside the apartment. Shut the door.”
“Arthur, we have to get inside. I don’t know where the fire is but the fire department is on their way.” I crawled into his apartment. “Come on!”
“Yes!” He shoved the door shut and came in with me.
“Are you inside?” The operator—Polly, her name was—asked.
“We’re inside,” I confirmed, moving for his fire alarm. I’d never hear her with it blaring, and we already knew there was a fire in the building.
“Get a damp towel and block the bottom of the door to stop the smoke coming in, okay, Reagan? Get as low as you can to the ground.”
Panic built inside me. “Arthur has a bad hip. He can’t get down.”
“Okay. Block the door like I said and go to the room that is the furthest away from the apartment door, do you hear me?”
I nodded, putting her on speaker.
“Do you hear me?”
“She’s nodding,” Arthur replied, taking the phone. “Towels in the bathroom.”
Right.
Of course.
I ran through his apartment to the bathroom and grabbed three towels. I soaked them under the taps in his tub before squeezing them and running them back through to the door, dripping water everywhere.
Arthur was talking to Polly. She was telling him the fire was on the ground and the first floor. We were to stay put as the fire department was there. They were getting it under control and would be there to rescue us soon. She took his apartment number three times while I blocked the bottom of the door and helped him over to his bedroom which was the furthest from the front door.
Yes, it was hot. Yes, we could see the smoke outside the windows. No, we wouldn’t open a window, but I was pretty sure there was smoke forcing through the front door now.
I couldn’t see it, but I could smell it. It was thick and acrid, and I wrapped my arm around a shaking Arthur.
Polly kept talking to us, but it was all a blur. The smoke outside the window was getting thicker and thicker as it billowed into the sky. I was afraid to open the bedroom door just in case the fire had spread to the third floor now. I swore I saw the flash of flames licking at the sides of the building when I looked outside the last time.
What if I’d replaced those batteries like I should have? What if? What if I hadn’t been in the shower? Would I have noticed it sooner? What if I hadn’t been in my own little world—was there a chance I’d have heard the other alarms sooner? Smelled the smoke sooner?
Call me dramatic, but I couldn’t believe this was how I was going to die.
In a fire.
In my oldest cotton panties where the fabric had bobbled and braless.
Awesome.
Joking was the only way I could stay calm. If I didn’t, I was going to panic, and that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Arthur.
“Reagan? Can you hear me?” Polly voice cracked as the line broke.
“Yes!” I shouted.
“You need to go to the door and bang, okay? Smoke can obstruct the apartment doors. Use a wet cloth over your mouth to support your breathing. They’re entering the building now to get everyone out.”
I confirmed I would and took the phone from Arthur. One quick trip to the bathroom later and I had two cloths for us both. I handed one to Arthur to protect his mouth with and used the other for me.
He assured me they were clean, but I honestly didn’t care if they weren’t. If it was between a dirty face cloth or death, I’d pick the cloth.
I might regret it later, but at least I’d live to regret it.
