Kyland
Page 65
The next thing I knew, I heard yelling outside my trailer. I bolted up, trying to orient myself. The trailer was utterly dark, but outside something glowed brightly and I smelled smoke. Oh God! Something was on fire. I flung the door to the trailer open and looked around wildly. There was a fire blazing in the front part of the trailer across the road where Ginny Neil lived with her two kids. I ran out the door to join the other people standing in the road in front of the trailer.
"Did someone call the fire department?" I yelled. "Is everyone out?"
"Said they were on their way!" someone answered. Holy shit, this was the worst nightmare for folks like us who lived up in the mountains. The roads were narrow and steep and the nearest fire department was eight miles away. A shack or a small trailer could burn down in a fourth of the time it'd take for them to get here.
"MaryJane! Where's MaryJane?" I heard a woman shriek.
MaryJane? My mind scrambled to place MaryJane, but I couldn't.
I saw Buster standing among the others and ran over to him. "Buster, who's MaryJane?" I called.
"Little two-year-old girl belongs to Ginny Neil and Billy Wilkes," he answered, pointing over to them, his eyes widening. "She's out, right?"
I looked around wildly, my eyes landing on Kyland as he ran up to the group, breathing hard. "Is everyone out safe?" he asked over the voices of the crowd, as shouts for MaryJane started to fill the air.
"Kyland, there might be a two-year-old girl in there," I yelled, racing over to him.
Billy Wilkes started back toward the fire, but Billy Wilkes was on crutches, lord knew why. Kyland ran behind him. They conversed briefly as they moved toward the smoky trailer, flames licking out the front.
My heart raced and I brought my hands up to cover my mouth as Kyland flung the door open and smoke poured out. He and Billy both leaned back and Kyland took off his sweatshirt and put it over his mouth while Billy pulled his T-shirt up over his face. Kyland disappeared inside, Billy standing vigil by the door. I could see him shouting inside, but I couldn't hear what he was saying over the loud roar of the flames and the peoples’ voices next to me.
Impossibly, my heart started pounding even harder. I moved back with my distressed neighbors as the smoke in the air became thicker. Time seemed to stand still as I imagined what was going on in that trailer. The flames seemed only to be in the front where the kitchen was, but the smoke was so thick in the rest of it. Could anyone survive in that? And for how long? Ky.
I gripped my fists tightly down by my sides, helpless to do anything other than pray.
Suddenly, a figure came bursting through the smoke, holding something large and covered in a blanket. I sucked in a huge smoky breath and moved forward. It was Kyland. Billy Wilkes hurried beside him as fast as he could move on crutches and when they were a safe distance away, Kyland handed the blanketed item over to Billy and bent over, heaving in big gulps of air and coughing. The blanket in Billy's arms fell back to expose a small blonde head.
Billy laid his daughter down on the grass and went down on his knees beside her. We all rushed forward.
"Is she breathing," her mother sobbed, kneeling down on the grass beside her.
"Someone go get some water!" I yelled, and Buster answered, "Be right back!"
"She has a heartbeat," someone else said. "I think she's breathing."
The next few minutes were a frenzy of her parents crying, Buster returning with water and washing her face of the soot, and people yelling.
Finally, finally, we heard a siren coming up the mountain. A few minutes later when the fire trucks got there, they were able to put the fire out with a large extinguisher. It was mostly contained to the front of the trailer, but with the smoke damage, the trailer was ruined. Every possession that family had was gone—and I knew better than anyone that they hadn't had much to start with. Now they had nothing. Despair filled me, for them, for all of us. I sucked back a sob, feeling like I might shatter at any second.
They loaded MaryJane into an ambulance. She was breathing and crying, which had to be a good sign. Apparently, from what I could gather of the conversations, she'd been sleeping in the back of the trailer and each parent thought the other had gotten her. In the fear and mayhem of Billy trying to put the fire out in the kitchen and both of them getting the other two children up and out, little MaryJane had been left behind. I hadn't even known Ginny was living with Billy Wilkes or that they had a little girl between them. Ginny's husband had been one of the men who died at the mine eight years before. I was glad to know she'd found some happiness. And now this. Suddenly, I felt badly for not getting more updates on what was happening on the mountain from Marlo while I'd been away. But it had just been less painful not to talk about home at all.
I stuck around while everyone discussed what they had to offer the family when they came back from the hospital. Cora Levin was going to take the two older children in and Cheryl Skaggs had room for the parents and little MaryJane.
Standing there listening to everyone band together made my heart squeeze. These people, as destitute as they were, had always attempted to help their own if they knew they needed assistance of some kind. They were good people—good people who barely had a pot to piss in. And yet they were offering up anything they had to give.
"I have a little money in the bank," I said. "I'll go into town in the morning and buy the kids some clothes."
They all nodded. "Thanks, Tenleigh."
"Did someone call the fire department?" I yelled. "Is everyone out?"
"Said they were on their way!" someone answered. Holy shit, this was the worst nightmare for folks like us who lived up in the mountains. The roads were narrow and steep and the nearest fire department was eight miles away. A shack or a small trailer could burn down in a fourth of the time it'd take for them to get here.
"MaryJane! Where's MaryJane?" I heard a woman shriek.
MaryJane? My mind scrambled to place MaryJane, but I couldn't.
I saw Buster standing among the others and ran over to him. "Buster, who's MaryJane?" I called.
"Little two-year-old girl belongs to Ginny Neil and Billy Wilkes," he answered, pointing over to them, his eyes widening. "She's out, right?"
I looked around wildly, my eyes landing on Kyland as he ran up to the group, breathing hard. "Is everyone out safe?" he asked over the voices of the crowd, as shouts for MaryJane started to fill the air.
"Kyland, there might be a two-year-old girl in there," I yelled, racing over to him.
Billy Wilkes started back toward the fire, but Billy Wilkes was on crutches, lord knew why. Kyland ran behind him. They conversed briefly as they moved toward the smoky trailer, flames licking out the front.
My heart raced and I brought my hands up to cover my mouth as Kyland flung the door open and smoke poured out. He and Billy both leaned back and Kyland took off his sweatshirt and put it over his mouth while Billy pulled his T-shirt up over his face. Kyland disappeared inside, Billy standing vigil by the door. I could see him shouting inside, but I couldn't hear what he was saying over the loud roar of the flames and the peoples’ voices next to me.
Impossibly, my heart started pounding even harder. I moved back with my distressed neighbors as the smoke in the air became thicker. Time seemed to stand still as I imagined what was going on in that trailer. The flames seemed only to be in the front where the kitchen was, but the smoke was so thick in the rest of it. Could anyone survive in that? And for how long? Ky.
I gripped my fists tightly down by my sides, helpless to do anything other than pray.
Suddenly, a figure came bursting through the smoke, holding something large and covered in a blanket. I sucked in a huge smoky breath and moved forward. It was Kyland. Billy Wilkes hurried beside him as fast as he could move on crutches and when they were a safe distance away, Kyland handed the blanketed item over to Billy and bent over, heaving in big gulps of air and coughing. The blanket in Billy's arms fell back to expose a small blonde head.
Billy laid his daughter down on the grass and went down on his knees beside her. We all rushed forward.
"Is she breathing," her mother sobbed, kneeling down on the grass beside her.
"Someone go get some water!" I yelled, and Buster answered, "Be right back!"
"She has a heartbeat," someone else said. "I think she's breathing."
The next few minutes were a frenzy of her parents crying, Buster returning with water and washing her face of the soot, and people yelling.
Finally, finally, we heard a siren coming up the mountain. A few minutes later when the fire trucks got there, they were able to put the fire out with a large extinguisher. It was mostly contained to the front of the trailer, but with the smoke damage, the trailer was ruined. Every possession that family had was gone—and I knew better than anyone that they hadn't had much to start with. Now they had nothing. Despair filled me, for them, for all of us. I sucked back a sob, feeling like I might shatter at any second.
They loaded MaryJane into an ambulance. She was breathing and crying, which had to be a good sign. Apparently, from what I could gather of the conversations, she'd been sleeping in the back of the trailer and each parent thought the other had gotten her. In the fear and mayhem of Billy trying to put the fire out in the kitchen and both of them getting the other two children up and out, little MaryJane had been left behind. I hadn't even known Ginny was living with Billy Wilkes or that they had a little girl between them. Ginny's husband had been one of the men who died at the mine eight years before. I was glad to know she'd found some happiness. And now this. Suddenly, I felt badly for not getting more updates on what was happening on the mountain from Marlo while I'd been away. But it had just been less painful not to talk about home at all.
I stuck around while everyone discussed what they had to offer the family when they came back from the hospital. Cora Levin was going to take the two older children in and Cheryl Skaggs had room for the parents and little MaryJane.
Standing there listening to everyone band together made my heart squeeze. These people, as destitute as they were, had always attempted to help their own if they knew they needed assistance of some kind. They were good people—good people who barely had a pot to piss in. And yet they were offering up anything they had to give.
"I have a little money in the bank," I said. "I'll go into town in the morning and buy the kids some clothes."
They all nodded. "Thanks, Tenleigh."
