Page 58 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

Less than a mile from home, Tommy could smell smoke in the air, and he thought about how nice it would be to sit down in front of a warm hearth and thaw out. He decided he’d sneak into the kitchen and turn the oven on as soon as he got through the door.

Sirens in the distance were the first thing to catch his attention. That wasn’t smoke from a chimney. It was getting thicker with every step. As he rounded the corner at the end of their street, Tommy could see the fire engines, EMT units, and cop cars. The dark night was flashing with color as the emergency vehicles’ lights danced against the orange glow of a large fire.

Tommy broke into a run then, slowing just long enough to duck under the yellow tape sectioning off the block. His chest was tight as he dug his feet in with every slippery step. It couldn’t be their house. It was a neighbor. It was a bad dream. It was anything else.

Tommy had learned at a painfully young age to expect a few things out of life. He expected to be used and treated badly. He expected that his family would always teeter on the razor’s edge between survival and oblivion. He expected that things would never go his way for long. And he’d learned only three things mattered: keep the kids safe, keep them fed, and keep a roof over their heads.

His legs gave out from under him when he got to their house. Flames were lashing out of every window on the top floor, crawling up the walls and over the gutters, eating the shingles. Billows of thick black smoke were swirling and pushing out of every crack. It looked to Tommy like the devil himself had finally claimed them. Hell had risen up out of the ground and taken back what belonged to it.

As he watched a stretcher covered in a white sheet being wheeled in front of him, Tommy felt like he’d suddenly lost his mind. He knew he was screaming. He could feel tears running down in hot tracks against his skin, now warm from the heat radiating off their home. He could hear glass breaking, but he wasn’t sure if it was the windows falling from their charred frames or if it was the sound of his own life exploding in an inferno of heat and terror in the dead of winter.

He hadn’t realized he was moving again until he felt two firemen pulling him back. He was trying to get inside, trying to find someone—anyone—who was still alive in there. If they weren’t, he wanted to be left alone. He wanted to disappear into a pile of hot ash and scorched rubble with them.

“Tom!”

He recognized the voice, but in the chaos of his mind, Tommy didn’t even look. His eyes were still set on the house as it started to fall in on itself. The fire hoses were on, spraying down the flames as one of the firefighters walked out. He was shaking his head as he pulled off his helmet and respirator. Tommy felt the sharp sting of a slap on his face, and his name was shouted again. It was Bobby.

Tommy felt numb, used up, and broken. “Who is that, Bobby?” he asked, pointing at the body under the sheet.

“It’s Cheryl, Tom. It’s Cheryl.” Bobby’s voice seemed softer now and his arm was around Tommy’s shoulder. “The kids are okay, Tom. I tried to get ahold of you when I got here.”

It took a long moment for Bobby’s words to sink in. The kids are okay. The kids are okay. They ran on a loop in Tommy’s ear, and he wasn’t sure if Bobby was saying them over and over or if he was trying to tell himself.

He was so dizzy with relief he had to close his eyes and focus hard to speak. “Where are they?”

Tommy didn’t like how long it took Bobby to answer. He opened his eyes and asked again, “Where are the kids, Bobby?”

“We got a van down here about ten minutes ago.”

Tommy waited. He knew there had to be more to it when Bobby didn’t meet his eyes.

“They’re waiting down at the station for an emergency placement.”

Tommy was wrong. Thinking the kids might have all gone out in a blaze of hellfire wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him. That would have been simple. He would’ve died too. Problem solved; game over. But no. He should’ve known nothing in his life would ever be that easy. Instead of the darkly comforting thought of ending himself right there on the spot, Tommy had another pile of shit to deal with. His kids were in the wind. They had no home. Their father was MIA and their stepmother was dead.

Tommy didn’t like to tempt fate, but he was pretty sure he’d finally hit rock bottom.

Bobby was still talking, but Tommy couldn’t hear a word he said. He wanted to hit something, make it bleed and ache like he was. He pushed Bobby back from him with a quick shove and Bobby yelled, “Goddamn it, Tom, will you listen to me?”

Tommy was stepping back farther and shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said. “I can’t right now, Bobby. I just can’t.”

When Bobby looked like he might follow, Tommy put his hand up in warning. “You gotta stay away from me right now.”

Tommy wandered the streets in devastated silence. He didn’t know where to go since most places were closed for the night. He considered going down to the police station to see if he could get any info, make sure the kids knew he was working on it and he’d figure something out. But he knew that would be a lie. They’d been in some tight spots in their lives, but this one was the mother lode of insurmountable odds, and Tommy didn’t know where to begin.

After an hour of drifting, he found himself down at the station anyway. He tried to pull himself together as he walked up the front steps. The lights inside felt jarring and too bright as people in cuffs were guided past him down different hallways. Cops were everywhere, and Tommy felt that ingrained instinct to run and get as far as he could from them. He forced himself to step up to the front desk.

An older man with a soft round belly stressing the buttons of his uniform sat in front of Tommy. The look on his face told Tommy he’d probably loved his job once and now he hated everything about it.

“Can I help you?” he asked without looking up from his computer screen.

Tommy wondered absently if desk cops got away with Internet porn at work.

“Yeah, uh, Thomas O’Shea. Some kids were brought in an hour or so ago needing emergency placement. I was wondering if you could give me any information about them.”

The officer glanced at him then and went back to his computer. He tapped a few buttons and clicked his mouse a few times and asked, “Are you family?”

Tommy was learning to hate that question. No one asked that when there was good news. “Yeah, I’m their brother.”

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