I was calmly sitting in the office, working on a special Christmas scrapbooking project. I was about to place a sticker down on a page when I heard feet scrambling up our staircase, a frantic hammering on our door and a muffled exclamation I almost couldn't make out. But after a second the words registered in my mind: "FIRE! GET OUT!"
I am slightly embarrassed to admit that no clear thoughts went through my head. I went into total panic. Paper pad and sticker in hand, my brain checked out and sheer survival mode kicked in. "What?!" I shouted to the door as I ran to it. "Where?!" As I opened it, I heard the manager say, "Over there!" Somewhere in the back of my brain, I noted the irony of seeing my manager clopping as fast as she could down the stairs in her suit jacket, pencil skirt and heels to go evacuate the other apartment dwellers, looking pretty panicked herself. Then I glanced to the right and saw a wall of orange flames leaping up from the front of one of the garages next to our apartment building. It felt like that moment in movies where you see a close-up of a terrified stare and the blazing fire reflecting in it.
I tore around the apartment trying to make sense of what to do. I still had a sticker on my hand and I couldn't pick anything up with that hand until I found somewhere to put the sticker down, and I couldn't just throw it away because it was the only one I had in that color and I NEEDED to put it on the paper, but I couldn't think straight enough to find the right spot in this state, so I ended up just plopping the paper pad down on the kitchen table and sticking the sticker on a receipt next to it. In my mind I had images of flames jumping from a tree to a house, or in this case a garage to a house, and my only thought was, "GET OUT!" I grabbed just my jacket and my purse and ran out the door, only thinking to grab my keys at the last minute because they were hanging on their hook next to the door. And then for some stupid reason I locked the door behind me. But the last image I had was Genevieve staring at me as I went out the door. And it suddenly dawned on me that if I left Genevieve in there and our house caught on fire--this thought was interrupted by a sudden flash of logic which cut my panic down to size. The fire trucks and fire fighters were already here and already dousing the fire and it was nowhere near enough to the apartment to catch it on fire, and the wind was blowing the other direction.
My thoughts started making more sense, but I was still shaken up. If I wasn't in danger, should I go back into the apartment? But the manager had told us to get out. And dozens of families were standing outside their apartments. She probably didn't want us back in until it was under control. That made sense anyway.
I called Stephen's cell. He didn't answer, so I called his work number, praying he would answer. Thankfully, he did. I watched the thick, billowing smoke and couldn't even think how to begin for a moment. Finally I told him everything that had happened so far--the knock on the door, seeing the fire, grabbing my coat and purse. "Did you grab anything else?" he asked.
"No," I said. "Not even Genevieve!" And then I just rambled to him, processing out loud. "Should I go back in and get things? It's not reaching over to our apartment."
"Maybe our laptops, and the network drive," said Stephen.
We talked for several minutes as I watched the fire being taken under control. Our neighbor with the 5 kids went back into the house at one point briefly, and came back out with her children's jackets. I agreed to get the laptops and network drive out of the house and just at least put them in our car.
At one point, I finally said, "I wish you were here." Stephen said he could probably call his boss and explain the situation and ask if he could come home, at least temporarily. That sounded good to me. "I'll call you back," Stephen said and we hung up.
A minute later he called. "I'm coming home!" he announced.
After we hung up again, I decided to go get the computers and network drive. It was more out of a kind of follow-through with what I said, though, because by now the fire was out and there was just smoke. It was a little scary being in the apartment--I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be or not, and it made me nervous not being able to see the fire through to its bitter end and make SURE it was out. I didn't want to stay in there, not knowing, for long.
People were still standing outside, watching. I watched with them as the firefighters came around the back of the garage with a chainsaw and some picks and things. They sawed open the back of the garage and took it off in pieces. Everybody got closer, LOL. One of my neighbors had gotten out his digital camera and was taking pictures. Several people were taking cell phone shots.
We were already losing daylight, but I could see the remains of a charred car in there. Smoke still swirled up at the top of the roof. One little boy called out to a little girl asking what happened. I wish I could have understood what she said, but all I caught was, "He got burned here," and saw the girl gesture to her left forearm.
Stephen finally arrived and we stood watching the excitement for a few minutes. A little smoke still swirled out, but the firemen were cleaning up. I wasn't ready to go into the apartment until I heard it was okay, so Stephen and I asked a fireman as he rolled up the fire hose. "Yeah, the apartments are fine," said the fireman confidently. "You can go back in." Phew!!
Stephen left shortly afterward. I brought back in the laptop and network drive, still a little nervous about doing so. I'll tell you one thing I learned from this experience. We are NOT prepared in any way for the event of a real fire on our house. When Steve and I were on the phone, we talked about writing up a 5-step plan or something to help us get what's important out of the house if it does catch on fire. And I also learned that I really need to clean up, because it was extremely difficult to run around and get anything done or even get TO the important stuff with the current state of our house. Scary! So maybe this was a little extra motivation from God to get my house cleaned up. :) And also extra motivation for fire safety... I will never doubt Stephen again when he tells us to keep things away from the baseboards!
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