Where are my Children?
The
mother said they're in here... asleep in their beds... I can't see... I can't
breathe... it's so hot... my chest feels like it's filled with lead... where
are they? Where are they?
I
am crawling as close to the floor as I can... I am feeling along the floor...
trying to find them. I see nothing at all... only black... shades of black. The
radio... they are telling me to get out...
The warning bell is chiming on my air pack... I have little time left. I
can't leave. They're in here somewhere... I have to find them. I have to find
them. Where are they? The radio tells me get out... now... retreat...
retreat... Where are the children? She said they were here. I have to find
them.
As
soon as we got here... The mother said to me: "Get my children out!"
The cop said at the same time: "There are two kids still inside!" The
radio, on top of that: "Two children inside... in the back
bedroom..." The mother grabbed my sleeve, "They are asleep in their
beds! Get my children! " I saw the flames reflecting in her eyes. I went
inside to get them. I can't leave until I find them. I can't. I won't. Where
are they?
I
can't see... I can't breathe... My lungs are screaming for air... I hurt. I
hurt. I find the bed... I feel on top... beneath... I run the blanket through my
hands feeling for something inside... it's empty. The beds are empty. They are
not here. Where are they? I lay on the
floor, defeated. Maybe I should just stay here... I am too tired to move... I
hurt too much... I can't breathe... it's too hot. The radio calls me again: Get out!
I
crawl along the floor, I inch my way along. Feeling for the children. Sometimes
they hide in closets... maybe they ran into the bathroom and shut the door...
maybe they're huddling in there, waiting to be found. Waiting for me. I need to
find them... I need to breathe. I need air. I feel along the closet floor. I
find nothing. I feel along the edges of the room as I crawl out. Then I feel a
still form in front of me... sprawled on the floor... I find the head... I get
close enough to see... It is a big dog, not a child. Where are the children? I
ask the lifeless animal, Tell me! Where are they?
The
alarm bell sounds. My air is gone. They send men in to find me, they think I am
disoriented. I am not. I know where I am. I am in the back bedroom. I am
searching for children. I have to find them. She told me to get them. She told
me they were here, in their beds. They aren't here. It's so hot... I need
air... I can't see... I can't breathe. I can't find them in this dark, in this
heat, with no air. Where are they?
As
I leave the bedroom I hear and feel the flash behind me. The smoke reaches
out
like a fist and knocks me to the floor. I meet the men who were sent for me. I
scream at them "I can't find the children!" They look over my
shoulder at a wall of fire. They say "Let's go!" and grab my arms,
running me towards the door. "Wait! Wait! Where ARE they?"
They
pull me out into the night air and I feel the mist. I rip off my useless mask
and gulp at the air. She comes up to me, and looks into my eyes, and asks
"Where are they? Where are my children?" She looks so confused... she
doesn't understand why I came out alone. She told me they were in there. She
told me to get them. I was to go into the fire and bring them out. I was supposed
to save them. That is how it was supposed to happen. That is what she expected
of me. That's what I do. That's my job. So why did I come out alone? Why did I
come out without them? She doesn't understand. She asks again "Where are
my children?"
I
try to answer, but no words come. I can't look away, so I close my eyes tight.
I drop my head down. Please... please... I did everything I could... Didn't I?
Didn't I? I don't know where they are.
I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I don't know where they are.
My
knees buckle. They lead me away from her. I sit by the truck, laying my
forehead against the cool metal. I want a rewrite... I want a do-over... I want
to go back to this morning, before this call, and start it all over again. When
we get this call, we will get here sooner, I will find the children right where
they are supposed to be and bring them out to their mother... No, better yet,
when we get here, the children will already be out. Standing with their mother.
She'll be holding them, like it should be. We'll just work to save a structure.
Just property, not lives. That's how I want it to be. I close my eyes to make
it so... to will the time to turn back. I close my eyes to shut it out. Make it
go away. But I still see her. I still hear her, "Where are my
children?"
They
treat me for smoke inhalation and send me home. They keep asking me if I'm all
right. I keep telling them, I'm fine. I'm fine. My head is pounding, my lungs
are screaming, I feel so sick. The TV is on in the other room. I hear:
"Two local children perished in a house fire today..." I yell,
"Turn it OFF!" But no one is home but me. I can't find the damn
remote. I pull the plug out of the wall. But not in time. I see the faces. The
screen is filled with a picture of two smiling little kids. A Christmas
picture. Little red bows in the girl's hair. The little boy grinning, missing a
tooth. No, no, no... I didn't want to see those faces. I hear the voice again
"Where are my children?"
I
curl up on the floor, the plug for the TV still in my hand. I did everything I
could... Didn't I? Didn't I? I run through it again, for the hundredth time.
Should we have started from the other side first? Could I have gotten inside
sooner? We need a thermal cam, like the bigger cities have... Why couldn't I
find them? Where did I forget to look?
Where should I have looked first? What should I have known that I didn't know
to do? Where were they?
I
feel a hand on my shoulder and I jump, startled. I turn, and my sister is
sitting on the floor beside me. I didn't hear her come in. I didn't feel her
sit down near me. She knows there is nothing she can say. She puts her arm
around me, and says softly "I'm glad that you're all right." But that
isn't what I hear. What I hear is... "Where are my children?"
And
I'm not all right. I'm not all right. None of this is right.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
To Jaci and Jeremy...
and
all the little angels that God took home too soon.
We tried so hard to find you.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
PLEASE NOTE: Names and places and certain facts have been altered
to protect the privacy of the firefighter's families. Portions of the above are
copyrighted. The "Kal the Rebel" tag above features a Worchester,
Mass. firefighter. Please do not reproduce in printed form without author's
permission. Kalvere, the author, is from Minnesota and would welcome any
comments at the following email address: [email protected]
Peace out and God be with you all,
Kalvere