Silence (27 page)

He raised a brow, and left Chase and Skip. “What’s wrong?”

“I—when we were here last time, I could hear his mother shouting his name. I can’t hear her now. Is that because she’s here?”

“Emma, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. Chase sure as hel hasn’t, and neither have any of your friends. This is a first, for al of us.” He glanced over his shoulder at Amy and then back. “On the other hand, at least one of us isn’t fazed by it at al.”

“Amy doesn’t believe in dweling on difficulties.”

“There’s a lot Amy doesn’t believe in. I’m surprised she believes in the dead.”

Emma laughed. “If she’s seen it, she believes in it. And if she Emma laughed. “If she’s seen it, she believes in it. And if she believes in it, it’s not safe to question her.”

“I think I got that.” He smiled, but it faded. “Can you see the fire?”

Emma nodded. She glanced at Skip, and winced. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Skip so angry.”

“He’s not gaining much traction with Amy.”

“No, but he’s lived with her al her life; he’s got to be used to that. He mostly trusts her. If he’s pushing, he knows she’l push back, and he’s the one who’s skipping Dalhousie to come to Amy’s party.”

“That’s not his fault.”

“His parents won’t care, unless he can convince them—and no one’s in a hurry to drag parents into this.” She failed to mention Michael. “They can’t do anything but die.” She turned back to the fire, although she’d never realy left it; it was loud.

“Bad?”

“It’s bad. But firefighters did get in through the upper windows, and the worst of the fire seems to be coming out of the downstairs ones. If it’s true that I’l be in whatever Andrew sees, I should be able to get to him through the second story as wel.”

“Without the asbestos and the oxygen.”

“Thank you, Eric.”

He grinned, but the grin didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to do this,” he told her, reaching for her hand and gripping it surprisingly tightly.

She looked over her shoulder at Maria Copis, stil clutching her baby. Then she looked back, and briefly squeezed his hand.

her baby. Then she looked back, and briefly squeezed his hand.

“Sorry. You don’t have to, though.”

“As if.” He shook his head, but he hadn’t expected a different answer, and she wondered why he’d tried. She would have asked, but Maria now approached her. Emma made way for her at the base of the first ladder.

“What do we do, now?” Maria asked.

“I go up the ladder,” Emma told her, striving for certainty. “I’l take a look around.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Give the baby to Amy or Alison. Or Skip. You can climb up on your own, but you won’t see the fire—at least I don’t think you wil—until I find Andrew.”

“You don’t think?”

Emma winced. “I’m not entirely certain how this part works.

I’m fairly new to al this—”

“Is there anyone here who isn’t?”

Emma didn’t answer that, but continued, “—but new or not, we al feel we need to at least try.” She tried to keep her voice smooth.

Maria Copis frowned. “This isn’t safe, is it?”

“It should be.”

“For you. This isn’t safe for you.”

Eric, bless him, said nothing.

“Does it matter?” Emma asked Maria, squaring her shoulders slightly, and taking the meager scraps of courage she could from defiance.

“Yes. You’re not dead. He is.” Maria swalowed and glanced “Yes. You’re not dead. He is.” Maria swalowed and glanced away, but only for a second. “I don’t want to be responsible for —for kiling you.”

“You’re not. This was my decision, start to finish, and we’re going up there with or without you.”

Eric cleared his throat. “I think you’re getting left behind,” he told them both.

Emma frowned and turned toward the ladders. Chase was already at the top of the rightmost one. He turned and blew her a kiss, and she grimaced. He missed it; he’d already braced himself against the ladder—with a pause to shout instructions to Skip and Amy, who had managed enough of a truce to hold the ladder steady between them—before crawling in through the window. “Chase,” she told Maria, “is very easily bored and has no sense of self-preservation.”

“Chase,” Eric corrected her, “is testing the floor to see if it’l hold weight. It probably won’t,” he added quietly, “and if it doesn’t, you’re going to have to hold her hand before she enters the building.”

“But the fire—”

“Yes. She’l see it, too.”

Maria’s glance bounced between Eric and Emma a few times.

She didn’t speak. Instead, she withdrew for a moment. Emma almost asked why, but she stopped when Maria puled up the edge of her shirt and nudged her baby awake.

“I’l feed him,” she told Emma quietly. “And change him.

Hopefuly he’l sleep until after—after we’ve finished.”

Hopefuly he’l sleep until after—after we’ve finished.”

“What if he wakes up?” It was Alison, who had joined them quietly, who asked. Which made sense, since it was Alison who was going to be holding him.

“Walk him around. Or bounce him—gently.” She didn’t ask Emma how long things would take. She didn’t ask anything.

Instead, she told Alison, “There’s a bottle for Cathy in the diaper bag and a couple of teething biscuits; if she’s fussing— and she won’t until she’s tired—have Michael give her both.”

She took a breath, held it, expeled it. “I don’t suppose any of you have changed diapers?”

Eric raised a hand. “I have.”

“If she needs—”

“We’l take care of her. If we’re down here.”

Chase came down the ladder and found Eric and Emma.

“Wel?” Eric asked him.

Chase grimaced. “It held, at least part of the way in. I’d recommend that you let Maria risk it,” he told Emma, “but make sure she’s standing almost on top of you. If the floor buckles, grab her hand or her arm, and pul her in. Unless the fire doesn’t seem too bad when you get up there. In which case, just pul her in right away.”

He hesitated for a minute, and then he addressed Maria. “I’m going to go up with you both, if that’s okay. I’m crap with babies, and Eric’s practicaly a wet nurse, but without the breasts. If Emma has problems, I’m going to have to pul her out.

I’l be walking behind you, hopefuly far enough back that my weight won’t be a tipping point if the joists are going to colapse.

But I’l need to risk a bit, because I won’t be able to reach her if she needs help.

“She’l be walking into the burning house,” he added. “It won’t look like that to either of us, but…she might catch fire, her hair might burn. I don’t know if the effects of the—of—” he had the grace to flush. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if your son is strong enough to actualy burn her clothing.”

Maria nodded gravely. “If she looks like she’s being burned, or if she starts to cough or choke, you’l pul her out?”

“Got it in one. But I might need help. Don’t try to help me unless I ask for it; stand your ground, because the floor’s not solid. When I touch Emma,” he added, “the floor wil be solid for me. But so wil the fire. If you can avoid that, avoid it. Wait for my word.

“Got it, Emma?”

Emma nodded. “Maria, was he in his bedroom?”

Maria swalowed. The words were slow to come, and they came in a heavy rush. “Yes. I left him there and headed to the stairs. It’s the room to the side of the hal, not the back room.

These windows open onto my bedroom. If you head out the door into the hal, his is the first room on the right.”

“Good. It’s not far.”

Chase said, “Far enough.”

Eric stepped on his foot. “Here, Em. Maria. Take these.” He handed them damp towels. “Cover your mouths, if it comes to handed them damp towels. “Cover your mouths, if it comes to that. I don’t know how much time you’l have; I don’t know how much time you’l need. Buy what you can.”

Emma nodded.

“Come out the same way you entered, if you have that much control.”

“We should be able to do that.”

“Yes. You should. But right now, Andrew is in the driver’s seat, and it may mean you won’t have the choice.” He hesitated and then added, “Even if you can touch him, and she can see him, she can’t touch him, Emma.” The words were soft and final.

Emma, who had not thought of it until that moment, felt the world shift—in a bad way—beneath her feet. His mother couldn’t touch him, and couldn’t pick him up, and he hadn’t moved the first time when she’d shouted and pleaded with him.

He had waited for her to carry him out.

And that had kiled him.

They started up the ladders. Emma went first, and she moved slowly, covering her mouth and nose with a damp towel. It was hard to see much, because the smoke from the lower windows was so dark and so acrid; it stung her eyes, and clung—she was certain—to her hair. She felt the heat, but the actual ladder was cool to the touch. It wasn’t much of a comfort, but here, you took what you could.

Beneath her, struggling in her own way, Maria Copis folowed. Chase was climbing the other ladder in paralel, shouting encouragement. At least, that’s what Emma thought he shouting encouragement. At least, that’s what Emma thought he was trying to do; what he was actualy achieving was more irritating. Then again, an irritating Chase was a whole lot better than a deadly fire if she had to choose something to dwel on.

There was stil broken glass in the window frame. Only the bottom of the frame, which was black with smoke, was an issue, if they were careful. Emma, who had dressed to visit a bereaved parent, winced—she had old painting clothing, most of it her mother’s, and after she’d finished here it was going to look a whole lot better than what she was wearing now. And she liked these clothes.

Chase helpfuly told her to be careful of the glass.

She helpfuly told him that she was; she might have said more, but Maria was here. Maria, whose face was a little like the shards of glass that nestled in what was left of the window’s frame; you could cut yourself on her expression if you weren’t careful.

Emma was careful enough to hold the cloth to her face and to partialy cover her eyes, and then she wasn’t worried about Maria anymore. The room wasn’t burning, but smoke was wafting up the stairs and through the open door. It was hard to avoid the glass when she couldn’t clearly see it, but she came up on the window’s edge on the soles of her shoes before jumping lightly down. The floor held. It was hot, but it held.

Chase had told her to wait for Maria, but it was hard. This was where Andrew had died, and this was almost when—and what kiled him, could kil her. She dropped to the ground, staying as close to the floorboards as she could to avoid the staying as close to the floorboards as she could to avoid the smoke.

Maria came up through the window next, and she took a lot more care getting down from the frame. Chase, in the window beside hers, was doing the same. “You’re okay?” he asked.

Emma wasn’t certain who he was asking; she couldn’t see, clearly, where he was looking.

“Emma?” Maria said.

“Avoiding the smoke,” she barked back. “Hurry, please.”

But it wasn’t as easy as that; it never was. Maria was stepping gingerly across the boards, testing how much give they had; she was stopping to listen to Chase, and she was folowing his directions. He was less careful than she was.

Emma couldn’t see what Maria was stepping on; she could only see what she herself moved across, and she wondered just how different they were. Grinding her teeth, and staying as low to the ground as possible, she crawled along the same path that Maria Copis was walking. She crawled faster.

By some miracle, they reached the hal door, then the hal itself. Emma didn’t bother to get to her feet, because the smoke here was at its thickest. Instead, she scuttled across the floor, holding her breath; she could only barely see the dim outline of the door in the hal; she couldn’t tel what color it had been painted. She thought, at first, the poor visibility was due to smoke, but then she realized that it was night in Andrew’s world.

The fire had occurred at night.

Breathing through her nose and keeping her lips tightly

pressed together, she made her way to his bedroom door. She couldn’t and didn’t look for Maria; there was too much smoke, and she was too afraid. She had never been in a fire before, and if she survived this one, she would never, god wiling, be in one again.

The door was slightly ajar, and over the crackle of burning, she heard Andrew Copis for the first time.

He was screaming.

EMMA HAD TO FIGHT THE URGE to get to her feet and run into the room; she crawled toward the door and nudged it open just enough that she could fit through it. Andrew Copis was standing—in his bed—screaming for his mother. It wasn’t a scream of pain; in some ways, it was worse. He was utterly scream of pain; in some ways, it was worse. He was utterly terrified, and his voice was raw with the weight and the totality of that terror.