In Continuum.

29 Anderton Drive

It was routine,when the siren in the room of the men's restroom starts to wail.The boys would drop whatever they were doing and dash for the changing room to gear up.Under a minute and a half wasnt an easy task,not at the beginning at least.For old birds like us it was a walk in the park,and soon enough we found ourselves climbing onto the fire engine as it roared out of the station with half the doors still hanging opened and the siren wailing down the street towards yet another burning inferno.All in the day of a fireman,i thought to myself.

"29 Anderton Drive..." i murmured to myself,as the fire engine sped down the street and past red lights.The wind blew through the opened window and the papers in my hand fluttered.I struggled to read the rest of the 911 call,and in my mind something triggered an old memory.Something about that address meant something to me,but i couldnt put my finger on it,not at that time.It was not until later,when the smoke cleared and the ceiling dripped down water when i realised the significance of the address:Regret,remorse and shame.

It was a rundown neighbourhood,with most of the houses closely packed together and standing merely one storey high.Their front lawns littered with old bottles of beer,uncollected newspapers and unattended hedges lined most of the house.The house on fire could be spotted the moment we turned into the drive.A small crowd has gathered outside,with some friendly neighbours trying to put out the fire with their garden hoses,which was utterly stupid considering the extend at which the fire has already consumed the North side of the house.

The lot of us reached and the crowd gave way.Somebody shouted something to the crowd,while i started pulling out the hose.The back of the house was totally consumed,leaving the front bearly intact.Smoke poured out from all the windows and tiny explosions could be heard from the back as well.The crowd backed away,and in their eyes i saw fear,tears,and in some of the children a tad bit of excitement too.

"Where are the Smiths?" somebody yelled."Where are they?"

"Oh my god." Larry said,as he connected the hose to the hydrant."There's somebody in there..."

Nobody likes extra duties,especially if they happen to fall on public holidays.It is the first day of 2006,and i am already dreading the rest of the year.It felt like a bright sunny Sunday morning,and you are outside your house stretching to the morning sun.You smile,and the paper boy rides by shouting a greeting to you as he threw the papers.It's a perfect morning,and as you walk down the pavement barefooted to get the papers something under your feet felt soft,most and lukewarm.You stare down,and there it was.Under your feet,Charlie's crap was under your feet.So there goes your perfect Sunday morning,as you spend half the morning getting rid of the stain and the horrific smell.

That was how i felt,as i sat in the station alone with a few buddies on the first day of 2006,playing Poker and killing time.I was playing,but at the same time my mind was elsewhere.I was thinking about my daughter,Sarah.I was thinking about my wife Jessica,and our son due in about six month's time.I wanted so much to be home with them,to feel my wife's hair while she baked her apple pies while Sarah hopped around the kitchen singing songs to us.Instead,all i had in my hands were poker cards and a cigarette.On the table a couple of beers,despite strict rules of the station chief allowed a bottle or two since it was the new year and everybody felt like shit.

Of all the times,the siren had to sound when i was about to win.We threw the decks down and dashed down to the changing room as per routine.Chief was there too,and he gave us a description on the call.I didnt catch it,but all i heard was a number through the heavy helmet and suit.

Larry and I hacked the front door down with our axes and the rest ran into the burning house with the hose in their hands.It was a uncomfortably small house just by looking at it,and now instead of a usual ceiling it was covered with a layer of thick smoke coming from the end of the corridor.I couldnt see anything three feet before me,and as i crept closer towards the end of the house the heat inside the suit became unbearable.I was breathing hard,and a wave of dizziness swept over me as i opened the door to a room,now half consumed by fire.

Each of us took a room while the rest tried to put out the fire at the back.I was at the first room to the left,and apparently that was the master bedroom of some sort.The fire was put out,and i cleared the room of any survivors.Water dripped from the ceiling and the walls,which now had a gapping hole in the side leading to the next room.Burnt soft toys strewned on the floor,while on the charred cupboard photographs of the resident,twisted and melted due to the heat.But there was one picture i noticed,hanging upon the wall on the far side of the room unharmed.It was the picture of a woman and a man,with a little boy standing in the middle.They were smiling in the sun,with the boy's hands tightly wrapped around his parents thighs.They were happy,and suddenly it dawned on me.My eyes widened,and my head spinned n circles.I said a silent prayer,and dashed out of the room right into the back of the house screaming,in the helmet and deep inside my mind.

We arrived on the street,and half expected the usual sight.A crowd,police cars,thick smoke and fire.There were none of those,and the boys dropped off the fire engine and got to the house.To our surprise,a boy was standing at the front,panick strickened.He was about seven,or nine at the most.He wore a green shorts,which only reached halfway down his thights.Multi-coloured shirt and a messed up hair.He was screaming something in a language the boys and i didnt catch or understood.I tried to calm the boy down,but he didnt understand me nor the other way round.The boys wheeled to the back to give the house a thorough check,and in five minutes we found out what the boy was screaming about.

I dashed to the back of the house where the kitchen was.I smelled a burnt dinner,and on the stove was a frying pan with it's content burnt and disfigured.We were all in the kitchen by then,and in the middle of us the boy who was still screaming something hysterically.He was pointing to a room down the hall,and i followed.

Already my first day of 2006 was spent in the station playing poker cards with the boys,away from my beloved family.And now i have a crazy kid blabbering about something inside the room,calling the station because of some stupid fire on the stove.I wanted to axe the kid right then,i really did.The fire was put out,but inside the helmet i was fanning my own fire.Somebody better keep the hose close,because i was sure i was about to explode.


"David!David!" Anderson sounded,as he pulled my sleeves."Dont go in there yet!It's not cleared!"

"I have to see it!I have to see it!" i yelled,but to no avail.I was panting too hard and too fast for the boys to understand what the hell i just said.

The place was burning,and from the looks of it nothing survived the flame.Tables collapsed and the chairs stood on two legs,with the back on the floor.Despite the warning,i dashed inside the room and looked around for them.

"Dont be here,please dont be here..." i repeated over and over.I couldnt help it,because i was desperate.Desperate to see some kind of hope,or a miracle,or some sign that would make my guilt stop pounding it's ten-pound hammer against my temples.

Something crushed under my boots,and i looked down.It looked like one of the legs of the chair that broke off was under my feet now.But at a closer look,i saw that it belonged not to the chair but to a charred mass of twisted shapes in the corner of the room.It was then,that i screamed and screamed.Tears of horror came rolling down my cheeks,and then i saw it.Clearer than the lights of day,i knew what the address meant to me...

In the room,the boy lead me to the bed.Upon the bed laid a woman,frail and weak.She was about forty,but from the looks of her she couldve very well been sixty or more.Her skin sunk at her cheekbones,and her eyebags were darker than her pupils,now sunken deep into the sockets as well.Her hair had bits of white in it,untidy and strewned all over the yellow stained pillow.The room smelled like mould and urine,and beside the bed was a wheelchair.The boy continued explaining,but i couldnt take it anymore.

"Shut the fuck up kid." i said."I didnt spend my time away from my family,just to entertain yours,you motherfucking son of a bitch."

"But..." the kid uttered,his first English in ten minutes."Food,for mama.She no move,so i make.And then fire,i scared.Mama cant move,so i phone.I phone!"

"Too bad for your crippled bitch then." i said.

The kid looked stunned,and for a moment i thought i saw tears welling in his big eyeballs.It rolled around for a while,and finally fell down.The woman was still asleep,but i didnt care too much for that.

"Fuck this shit!" i yelled,and the rest of us cleared the house within ten minutes,leaving the kid on the porch,wiping his tears with his sleeves,alone.


I saw it,and it was undeniable.29 Anderton Drive,it cant be.What are the odds?But it was real,my fears were true.At the side of the wall,was a chair.A wheelchair.Beside the wheelchair were two bodies,both burnt beyond recognition.The body on top was bigger than the one below.The body below was curled up,with its arms covering its face.The body on top was all over the one below,as if it was protecting the body below from the burning fire.I didnt step on the leg of a chair,i realised.I stepped on the leg of the body on top,and because of the intensity of the fire it was crushed under my weight.

I lifted my legs away in horro,but it was too late.To damage was done,way before the fire even started.Way before any of us got the call on this fateful day.It was when the kid called us for the love of his mother,and i gave him a shoulder and asked him to fuck off.

I kneeled in the kitchen and wept.I dont know how long i did it,but i wept like i never did before.

"Forgive me," i managed to say."Forgive me..."

The bodies remained where they were,the mouth of the boy hanging opened and loose upon his black jaw.As if he was still screaming to the pain,making it stop.And i was there too,screaming for the pain to stop.For the guilt to sieze.Let me be rid of this tearful memory,please...