Page 54 of Under Fire

Emergency vehicles and displaced residents lined up in front of her building on the street. Firetrucks. People clutching blankets. Cops. That was all she saw at first.

Then she grasped what was happening. Her building was on fire. She yanked the car over to the side of the boulevard, watching flames licking the sky. It wasn’t hard to deduce. Her apartment was the epicenter of the fire, complete charcoal by that point.

She jumped and shrieked as her driver’s door whipped open, a dark figure leaning into the car.

But she let out her breath when she realized it was Warren.

“It’s on fire!” she cried. “What the hell is going on?”

Warren pulled her from the car, deadly serious. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her protectively against his chest. He paused, his head like a periscope—looking all around. She felt something breaking inside her, watching everything she owned going up in flames and smoke.

“When you said you needed help, Alisa, what did you mean?” he asked, staring down at her. “Were you fucking serious?”

“Warren—”

His grip on her tightened.

“Do you actually need help, Alisa?” he asked. “Is this for real?”

“Yes.”

He spat profanities, shaking his head in disbelief. He shot his gaze around again, seeming to take in every detail.

“What type of help do you need?” he pressed. “What type of trouble are you in?”

He stood firm, waiting for her reply. But she had too many words rumbling through her head. She felt stunted, unable to connect. It was the same social problem she always had when under stress. He grew visibly frustrated as his grip tightened to assess her. She just felt like she was in a different world.

“You need to talk to me,” he said. “This is serious now, Alisa.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.Fuck.”

Then a police officer approached them from the side, his pock-marked aging face illuminated by the blaze. Warren’s clutch stiffened on her shoulders, dragging her into him.Defending.

“Ma’am—do you live here?” the cop asked in a croaky voice, his notebook out as he walked toward her, clearly judging.

“Yes,” Alisa said.

She tried to add more but felt herself choking. Words would not come out. Her home was on fire.I’ve lost everything.

Slowly she started sliding downward, losing balance. Warren heaved her up, holding her strong and tight against his hard frame, not letting her fall. He was her support. Hot tears poured down her cheeks as he spun her face into his chest, absorbing her anguish. She grew numb.

As she buried her tears into Warren’s chest, all she could hear was the cop asking Warren questions.

“When was the last time she was home?” the cop asked.

“I don’t know.”

“But she’s been with you?”

Warren replied slowly, “Yes—we’ve been up in the mountains for most of the night.”

“Are you…together?”

“What does that mean?” Warren’s tone grew distrustful.

“I think you know what I mean.”

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