The Fire Witness

125

Vicky can’t run any longer with Dante in her arms. She feels as if she’s going to vomit. She’s losing feeling in both her arms and she’s afraid she’s going to drop him. She stops so she can shift his position, but falls to her knees instead. Vicky sighs as she carefully lays the boy on the ground. He has gone back to sleep. His face is colorless and Vicky can hardly hear him breathe.

They have to either hide or get out of here.

She pulls herself together and drags him by his sweater to a garbage container, hoping they can squeeze behind it. Dante moans and she pats him and watches him open his eyes for a moment before closing them again.

Ten yards away is a glass door next to a large garage entrance, but Vicky can’t carry the boy any farther. Her legs are trembling from exertion. All she wants to do is lie down next to him and go to sleep. She knows she can’t. She’s in pain and her hands are bloody and her arms are numb.

She can see an empty street through the glass door.

She sinks to a sitting position, breathing hard. She tries to collect her thoughts as she looks at her hands and at the boy. She pushes hair out of Dante’s face and leans toward him.

“Wake up now,” she says.

He blinks and looks at her blood-covered face. He seems frightened.

“I’m all right,” she says. “It doesn’t hurt. Have you ever had a bloody nose?”

He nods.

“I can’t carry you any longer, Dante,” she says, fighting the urge to cry. “You have to walk the last bit.”

“I just want to sleep,” Dante says as he yawns.

“It’s all over now. You are going to go home.”

“What?”

“You are going home to your mother,” she says, and smiles. It lights up her exhausted face. “All you have to do is walk.”

He nods and sits up. He runs a hand through his hair.

Somewhere within the large storage area there’s a loud bang as something falls. It sounds like steel pipes are starting to roll.

“Try and stand up now,” Vicky says.

They both get up and start toward the glass door. Each step is unbearably hard. Vicky realizes that she might not make it. Then she sees the revolving blue light of a police car. More cars pull up beside it. Vicky thinks that they’re saved.

“Hello?” It’s a man’s harsh voice. “Hello?”

The man’s voice echoes between the walls and the ceiling. Vicky is dizzy and has to stop. Dante keeps going.

Vicky leans against the cold metal of the container.

“Go straight out the door,” she says. Her voice is weak.

Dante looks back and it seems as if he is going to turn around.

“No, no. Go straight out,” she pleads. “I’ll be right there.”

She sees three uniformed police officers running in the wrong direction. They’re heading to a building on the other side of the street. Dante keeps going toward the door. He pulls down the handle and pulls. Nothing happens.

“Hello?” the man’s voice is closer.

Vicky bites her lip and spits bloody saliva on the floor, then starts to walk again.

“Won’t open,” Dante says as he pulls hard on the door.

Her legs are shaking but somehow she manages the last few steps. Her hand burns with pain as she pulls on the door handle as hard as she can. The door does not budge. She pushes it, but it is locked. She tries banging on the glass, but there’s not much sound. She can see four police cars outside. Their blue lights flash over the façades and windows of the surrounding buildings. She waves to get their attention, but no one sees her.

Heavy footfalls are approaching swiftly behind them. Vicky turns and sees a heavyset man heading right for them. He is smiling.