Milayna's Angel (28 page)

“Okay, just let me know when you’re ready,”
she told him. I had to laugh.

“I think I’ve discovered my superpower. I’m
invisible.” I winked at Xavier and he chuckled, which made me start
laughing again.

I was still laughing when Muriel and Drew sat
down. “What’s so funny?” Muriel asked, shoving her gigantic purse
next to her.

“The waitress has a thing for Xavier,” I
answered.

“Who doesn’t?”

“Sitting right here, you know.” Drew raised
his hand over his head and pointed down at himself.

“Not me.” She reached over and pulled his
lips to hers for a quick kiss before telling him, “Everyone
else.”

Xavier eyed the huge, flowered bag Muriel was
still shoving into the space between the seat and table. “What do
you keep in that thing?”

“Just the essentials.”

“Wow.” Xavier scratched his bottom lip with
his thumb. “You have a lot of essentials.”

Muriel and Drew ordered their drinks.
Somehow, Amy was able to tear her gaze away from Xavier long enough
to take their orders. She came back with their Cokes and asked if
we were ready to order. Of course, she looked to Xavier first.

“I’ll have the steak.”

She wrote his order on her notepad, never
looking away from him. I wondered if she’d even be able to read it
when she turned the order in.

She’ll screw it up.

“I’ll have the… Hello? I’m over here,” I
said, snapping my fingers in the air. She rolled her eyes but
looked at me while I gave my order, her gaze flitting to Xavier
every few seconds.

There goes your tip, honey.

Finally, we’d all placed our orders and
gotten our food. Poor Amy didn’t have a reason to come to the
table, so she stood by the bar in the back of the restaurant and
watched him eat. I shook my head and smiled.

We were having a nice dinner, laughing and
talking, when my stomach heaved. Afraid I was going to be sick, I
stood up so fast I knocked my Coke over, spilling it across the
table and onto Drew’s lap.

“I’m sorry. I gotta… excuse me.” I put one
hand over my mouth and tried to push my way out of the booth with
the other.

Xavier stood and let me out. I tripped over
my feet and grabbed the tabletop to steady myself, sending Xavier’s
plate of food flying. It hit the floor with a crash, shards of
glass scattering across the floor.

“Milayna?” Xavier’s forehead creased.

“She’s okay. It’s a vision.” I heard Muriel
tell Xavier.

I stumbled into the bathroom like I’d just
downed three margaritas. I was sure that was what people were
thinking. Finding an empty stall, I went inside, locking the door
after me.

“Milayna? Open the door,” Muriel called to
me. Her voice was amplified in the small space and bounced around
in my already-pounding head.

I reached out and slid the lock open. She
opened the door and walked into the stall, locking the door behind
her.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know yet.” I squeezed my eyes shut
against the stabbing pain in my head, waiting for the images to
appear. My vision was gone. The bathroom had disappeared. I
couldn’t see Muriel. I only saw black. All around me. Just
black.

But the smell was overpowering.

Burning. Smoke.

Coughing against the smell of the smoke, I
couldn’t get a breath. It was as if the smoke was billowing around
us in the stall. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand to
staunch the smell. Slowly, the blackness lifted and images took its
place.

The room is smoky. It’s like a haze filling
the space. I can’t see through it.

“There’s going to be a fire,” I whispered to
Muriel.

“Where? Here?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see through the
smoke.”

Photographs. Flowered-covered couches.

I shook my head and concentrated harder on
the images, trying to ignore the smell of smoke filling my
nose.

Hot. Crackling. Glass shattering.

“It’s so hot. I can hear the fire burning,
glass breaking.”

“Where are you, Milayna? Look around.”

“I’m trying to,” I snapped. She acted like
I’d never had a vision before.

We’re driving. I’m not in the fire anymore. A
man is cursing. The city lights are speeding by the window.

“I’m in a car. We just turned down my
street.”

Lights flashing. A hazy glow surrounds a
house.

I grabbed Muriel’s arm, squeezing so hard she
flinched. “The fire… I think it’s my house.”

“Let’s go.” She ushered me out of the stall.
A lady watched, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at us.

We ran through the crowded restaurant to our
booth.

“Everything okay?” Xavier asked when he saw
us.

“No, we have to go,” Muriel said quickly.
Drew stood without a word, threw a wad of bills on the table to
cover our food, and started toward the door. “Now!” Muriel
whispered through clenched teeth when Xavier hesitated.

On the way to our cars, Muriel briefly told
the guys what my vision showed. I was still seeing images. My head
pounded like an army of miners were tunneling through my skull. My
breathing was labored, fighting the effects of the smoke.

“We’ll meet you there.” Drew climbed into his
car and gunned the engine before backing out and speeding out of
the parking lot, tires squealing as he turned onto the road.

I waited impatiently for Xavier to back out
of the parking space. “Hurry!” I yelled.

He screeched out of the parking lot and sped
down the road, passing Drew, who was already pushing the speed
limit. He weaved in and out of traffic. I held on to my head with
one hand and the dashboard with the other.

Burning. Screaming. Smoke. Flames. Heat.
Family photos. My house.

The images and sensations filled my brain,
flying in front of my eyes like a slideshow. They moved so fast it
made me dizzy. The smell of smoke made it almost impossible for me
to breathe. The heat was so intense that it felt like it was
burning my skin. I could smell singed hair.

Horrific screams filled my head, making it
pound harder. My stomach clenched and swirled and I bent over and
threw up on the floor.

“I’m so sorry.” I wiped my mouth off with the
back of my hand.

Xavier didn’t answer. He focused on driving.
We came to a red light. He looked both ways before laying on the
horn and barreling through the light. He ran two more lights before
we were at the entrance to our subdivision. Engine roaring and
tires squealing, he turned onto my street so fast that the back end
of the car fishtailed, sending me into the side of the car and
smacking my head against the window. I put my hand on the window
and pushed off to sit up straight.

That was when I saw my house engulfed in red
and orange flames.

22

Xavier drove toward my burning house, trying
not to hit the people milling around gawking at the fire. We came
to a stop about one hundred feet away. Barricades blocked the road
to keep people away from the fire crews working to extinguish the
blaze. I jumped out of the car and ran past a barricade.

“Miss! You can’t cross the barrier,” I heard
a police officer yell. But he was surrounded by people and fifty
pounds overweight. I easily slipped by him.

I kept running. “It’s my house.”

Two arms snaked out, grabbing me by the waist
and lifting my feet off the ground. I screamed and pushed at the
steely arms holding me in place, clawing and hitting them. My feet
kicked wildly back and forth, trying to hit the person holding me.
My heel banged into the person’s knee and he howled in pain,
bending over slightly… just enough. I kicked his knee again and
pinched the skin on his forearm as hard as I could. His grip
wavered. It was all I needed. I shimmied my way out of his arms and
ran toward my house.

It was hotter there. The closer I came to my
childhood home, the more it felt like Hell. The wood crackled as
the flames licked across it. Sparks flew and embers floated in the
night air. The vinyl siding curled and melted against the wood
beneath.

“Get back!” I heard a man bellow. Looking
over my shoulder, I saw a portly firefighter running toward me. I
reached the front door and before he could catch up to me, I rammed
my shoulder against it. Falling inside, I landed on the floor with
a grunt.

I scrambled up. The heat of the fire was
nearly unbearable, and it was almost impossible to see in the
smoke-filled room. I had to maneuver by memory, reaching for
something to use as a guide. My fingertips grazed the wall, and I
jerked my hand back. It was flaming hot.

“Mom!” I screamed. “Dad!”

I thought I heard them yelling to me from
upstairs. I couldn’t be sure.

The fire roared around me. Pieces of ceiling
fell and crashed against the buckling wood floor. The heat felt
like it was cooking me. I could feel it burning my feet through my
shoes.

“Mil… find… brother…” I heard my dad shouting
from upstairs.

“Benjamin,” I screamed. “Ben!”

Splashes of a vision scrolled behind my
eyes.

A door. Plain. White paint bubbling.

A white door—not Ben’s. His door had dinosaur
stickers on it. His closet doors were covered in dinosaur posters.
I closed my eyes, partly to concentrate on the vision, partly to
shield them from the stinging smoke and drying heat.

“Where are you, Ben?”

I started to cough. The air was being sucked
out of the room by the fire. It burned to take a breath, as if I
was breathing in the flames. I remembered what I was taught in
school and dropped to the floor to breathe in cleaner air.

The door is open. Coats hanging. Smoke fills
the room.

“Ben!” I screamed.

The fire was spreading quickly. The drapes in
the living room exploded in flames, the synthetic carpet began to
melt, giving off a caustic odor. The odor combined with the airless
room and other burning materials made me dizzy. The chemicals in
the air burned my lungs and sinus membranes when I inhaled.

The vision played over and over in my mind. A
white door and coats hanging, I had no idea what it was showing me,
or, more importantly, where.

My parents ran down the stairs, fire from the
second floor lapping at the ceiling above them.

“Benjamin!” my mom yelled between deep,
rasping coughs.

An open door. Hanging coats. Vacuum.

A vacuum! The mudroom closet. I crawled
across the living room floor, making my way toward the back of the
house where the mudroom was. Weaving between pockets of fire, I
dodged falling pieces of plaster and crumbling furniture.

I heard a fireman barge through the door. He
must have grabbed my mother, pulling her screaming from the house.
I continued toward the back of the house.

“My kids are in here,” my dad shouted over
the roaring noise.

“We’ll find them… get out!”

I got to the mudroom and reached for the door
handle, feeling my skin sizzle under the metal knob. Crying out, I
forced myself to turn the knob.

“Ben? Ben? Benjamin?”

I scooted to the closet. Pulling my
shirtsleeve over my hand, I pushed the closet door open. I put my
arm out in front of me, waving it back and forth, trying to find
the vacuum cleaner in the dark, smoky room.

I heard a faint sound of coughing and reached
toward it. My arm hit the vacuum. I reached into the space behind
it, calling Ben’s name. When I felt his little hand grab mine, I
pulled him toward me, hugging him against my chest.

“We have to get out of here,” I yelled close
to his ear, my voice raspy from the smoke. My throat felt like
someone was ramming a stick of sandpaper down it.

I felt the floor in front of me, trying to
get my bearings. The linoleum was curling and melting from the
unbearable heat. The room was dark with smoke. I could barely see
the yellow-orange glow from the other rooms. I wanted away from the
fire. I needed to find the outside door, or even the window.
Crawling toward where I thought the door was, I pulled Benjamin
with me. A pair of large boots stepped into view. The man grabbed
Benjamin in his arms and hauled me from the floor, ushering us
quickly toward the back door and into the yard.

He hurried down the driveway, carrying Ben.
The basement windows exploded from the heat and pressure, sending
glass flying over us. I put my arm in front of my face, protecting
it from the shards of glass whizzing by.

I saw my parents at the end of the driveway,
two firefighters restraining them. My mother had tears running down
her soot-stained face. My dad’s face was red and his neck muscles
bulged as he tried to shove the firefighter out of his way.

When we reached my parents, they grabbed Ben
and me into a crushing hug, squeezing out what little air was still
in our lungs. The four of us stood holding each other, crying in
between coughing fits caused by smoke inhalation.

“Ben, where were you?”

“He was hiding in the mudroom closet,” I
answered my dad between violent coughs. I still couldn’t inhale
enough oxygen, and I felt lightheaded. The faces of my parents
started to blur and swirl until I saw nothing but black. I heard my
mother scream my name just as I felt myself hit the concrete.

***

I came to as the EMTs were loading me into an
ambulance. When I tried to sit up, a hand gently pushed me back
against the crisp white sheets.

“Lie down, Milayna,” he murmured, his voice
smooth as butter. A voice I knew. One I loved… or at least the
person it was attached to.

I looked up into his blue-green eyes. “My
parents?”

“They’re getting the car. Ben is in the
ambulance.” Chay gestured to the rescue vehicle. “Your parents are
going to follow you to the hospital.”

“They’re okay?”