Page 43 of Burn

I hate how much I want to reach out and grab him, to pull him back into me. I fucking hate how cold and alone I feel without his body against mine. The kid asks again, and Adrian’s tone is calm and even when he replies, “We’re good, Scotty.”

Are we?

This is my chance to call out. Tell him I’m not good. Tell him to bring us down, but I can’t say it, and after a pause, the elevator jumps to life, and we start climbing floors again. This time, when the doors open, Adrian reaches out, taking my hand in his, and pulling me out of the elevator. We don’t speak as we walk the short distance to his door. My head reels while he slides his key into the lock and pushes the door open. The apartment is almost empty. There’s no table in the kitchen area; the only seating is a loveseat. On the far wall, there are pieces of what appears to have once been a coffee table.

Once the door is closed, he releases my hand and steps to the counter, retrieving something before returning to me and holding out his hand. I feel numb and confused, and it takes me a moment to react. When I shift my eyes to his hands, he holds out a cell phone— mycell phone — white hot rage courses through my veins.

I swear to fucking god.

When I take the phone, it illuminates, displaying dozens of missed calls and texts. I can’t begin to wrap my head around what I’m seeing on the screen, so I look back at Adrian, who stands tense before me, hands in his pockets. It feels like steam is building in my chest, and at any moment I’ll explode, taking Adrian, this apartment, the building and the whole fucking city block with me when a misplaced sound catches my attention.

I snap my head toward the bedroom. The door is open, and inside I can see a neatly made bed. Stepping forward, I crane my neck to see further inside, desperate for the source of thesweet noise. My heart detonates when she pads out of the room, her movements languid, tail high in the air. I can’t stop the tears. They flow down my cheeks as I sink to my knees and reach my arms out. Mildred mews again, stepping into my lap and nuzzling her snout into my wet cheeks. I wrap my arms around her warm little body, crushing her into my chest. She instantly struggles — she’s never liked being held, preferring to cuddle onherterms.

I look up at Adrian through my lashes, forgetting how furious I was seconds ago, and sob, “You found her?”

Creature

Adrian

The Night of the Fire

“What should we do with this… thing?” Donovan asks, holding up the carrier, a look of disgust written all over his face. My chest is tight, and each inhale burns. I lean down to peer inside, catching a glimpse of Lex’s weird cat cowering in the back, its wild eyes frantic with fear.

I sit back, breathing through the oxygen mask, and croak out, “Where did you find her?”

Donovan snorts, glancing at the cat and back to me, “Her? That’s a ‘her?’ Is it supposed to look like that, or did the fire fuck it up?”

I can’t help but laugh, which makes me cough and wheeze, “Yeah, man. It just looks like that.”

“What should we do with it?” he asks as Harrington approaches us.

Harrington leans down, then rears back, “What the fuck isthat?”he chokes.

Donovan grins broadly, replying, “It’s a cat. It just looks like that.”

The two of them continue to laugh, cracking jokes over the weird and traumatized little creature — Lex’s little creature — until medics push a gurney past us carrying McCoy. Donovan reaches up, pulling his helmet off his head. His face is blackened with soot, but even still, I can see the blood drain from his face. We’re silent until McCoy is loaded into the back of the rig, and it peels out, sirens wailing. My head drops, guilt twisting in my guts, and I mutter, “Fuck.”

Harrington steps up, sets his hand on my shoulder, and says, “You got him out. He’s breathing because of you.” I nod, knowing it’s true, but acidic guilt burns down my chest.

I was responsible for him.

I watch the guys load hoses and gear onto the trucks, feeling like a total waste of space because I’m unable to help. All the while, the carrier sits on the ground next to the ambulance. Occasionally, sad, scared little yowls float from it — two medics approach, sharing a confused look when they step over the carrier and up to me. The female medic shines a light in my eyes, checks the oxygen tank, and says, “We’re gonna take you in now.”

Hell no.

I tear the oxygen mask from my face, shaking my head, “No way. I’m fine. I’ll go back to the station with my crew,” I start.

Both of them laugh and I’m suddenlyveryfucking annoyed. The male pats my shoulder, and I regard the contact with so much contempt that he pulls back and says, “Man, you know we can’t let you do that. Your buddy is barely breathing. You gotta at least get checked out. Have some scans. Whatever doctors do.” I want to argue, but my chest fucking hurts and I’m barely holding back the coughs clawing at my throat, so I fold my arms across my chest like a petulant fucking child.

The medics navigate around me, unwilling to ask me to move, and I, unwilling to get out of their way, sit like a fucking storm cloud. A few moments later, the guy hops down, turns to face me, and signals for me to get into the back. I stare him down, refusing to budge. Instead of arguing with me, he sighs and calls over his shoulder, “Harrington! Come handle your boy.”

I narrow my eyes and hiss, “Pussy.”

Harrington jogs over, and based on the grin on his face, he knows exactly what the issue is. “Don’t be a pain in the ass, Liberty. Get in the ambo. Get checked out. Check on McCoy while you’re there,” he encourages, making an excellent point about McCoy.

I push myself to my feet, and the building ahead teeters on its axis, causing me to reach out for something to hang on to. When I grab the medic, I cringe, and a shit eating grin spreads across his face. I’ve never seen someone communicate, ‘told you so’ so clearly without saying a fucking word. I clamber into the back of the ambulance, then collapse onto the bench, winded by the simple movement. The medic closes one door, but before he can close the other, Harrington steps up, holding the little pink cat in its carrier, and asks, “What the fuck should we do with this thing? Animal services?”

I start to nod, but then think about who this creature is, how much it means to Lex.

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