the Fires
Have you ever felt that second of dread, the type that hurts your stomach and causes your mouth to go dry before your face goes as white as a sheet and you feel the dizziness set in, the same wooziness as if you stood up too fast.
That was how I felt when I slammed the cab door shut. My lungs ached, as my heart raced, stomach flipping and turning as I was struck speechless when I saw my home, my gorgeous house with the large windows and the beautiful brickwork, now up in flames.
The inferno sliced and licked its malicious tongues of fire at me, entrancing me in it’s beautiful vermilions and tangerines, as I coughed at the smoky air, my lungs thick and tight as I tried to breath.
I tried to push my way through the crowd of my neighbours and bystanders all watching from behind police tape, but they seemed to be forming a barrier, telling me that I would regret seeing my home like that. But finally, I made it through, ducking under the tape.
That was when I felt the spine shattering dread, the intense numbness followed by every single bad thing that had ever happened to me, all coming back to haunt me in a single moment.
“sir, you can’t be here.”
I turned to see a police officer approaching me, trying to escort me back behind the tape. “this is my house.” I manage to blurt out as he got closer, my voice hoarse and cracking from the thin bubble of soot that had formed around me, settling on the white shirt I wore.
Soot is bad, that’s all I remember from chemistry lessons in high school, soot means carbon monoxide.
The police officer reached me, taking out a tiny notepad and pencil as I just let my jaw fall open at the magnitude of the fire.
The biggest I had seen by far, although this has been my biggest house.
“you are the homeowner, correct?”
“yes, I bought it outright several years ago.”
“high paying city job?”
“no actually, I’m an artist, I recently ‘made it’ in the art world if you can believe that.”
“name, age?”
My jaw clenched accidentally.
“Sterling Pierce. I’m 26.”
“and you live alone?”
“correct.”
“where were you tonight.”
I almost laughed to myself as he asked.
“so, you think it’s arson, huh?”
“we need to rule out all possible causes, so where were you between seven and ten thirty this evening?”
I smiled politely, “I was out on a date.” I’ve learnt over the years that it’s better to cooperate with them in the beginning, then flee, taking as much of my fortune with me as I can and start my new life.
As the the police officer stared me up and down, I watched the house and suddenly I was struck with how perfect the timing of this all was this time. The radio on his hip started to go off. I have always wondered how the officers understood what the garbled voices were saying, it always seemed like gibberish to me.
“it seems- “he began, a judgmental look on his face “-that the fire was started in the attic, where a lit cigarette set fire to the wooden floorboards that were soaked in some kind of painting solvent.”
My eyes widened as I remembered earlier that evening, accidentally taking a sip from my mug filled with turpentine instead of coffee, and ended up dropping it, watching as it soaked into the hardwood floor.
I hated him for the cigarettes. He came to pick me up for our date and left one out on the side, I always told him not to smoke in the studio, clients had complained of the work smelling like a cheap strip club. I would always pull the cigarette from his mouth, stub it out and throw it out of the window, as I would turn back around I would see another one already hanging out of his mouth.
“aww baby- “he would say as he kissed the back of my neck while I painted, tiny pieces of fire smouldering down onto my shirt “-let loose a little.” He was taller than me, which was rare, about six foot four, or six five. He was fine, he was fun, he wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but when he proposed I said yes.
I should have known that he was one of them. He had an obsession with fire, they all did.
“sir? Are you alright?” I felt the sweat drip from my brow, as It suddenly hit me.
“my art- “I quickly took a step forward, getting close to the blaze, the heat causing my skin to crawl and burn “-I need my art.”
He tried to pull me back, but I was in a trance as I picked my walk up into a run
“Mr Pierce, it’s all gone.”
He slammed his body into mine, but it all felt fuzzy, everything was underwater, the harsh roar of the flames and the bluey tinge through the burnt down door of my house, hypnotising me.
“all of it?” I managed to whisper as my body was pinned to the floor, but I couldn’t feel him kneeling on me, it was as though my mind didn’t match my body.
“all of It.”
That was when I realised it was different this time, that the singular painting that held the bonds my parents had left me was on fire.
This time it would be hard to re make myself.
-
Three months later
-
I pressed the button by the door, the almost metallic buzzing shocking me as I quickly pulled away.
“what do you want?” the disembodied voice snapped at me.
I pushed my glasses up onto the bridge of my nose, “uh hi, I’m here to look at the apartment.”
“oh.” He sounded irritated and slightly shocked and suddenly I heard the tell-tale click of the door opening. I took a quick glance of the piece of paper I had frantically jotted down the number of the apartment, and quickly, I went up the stairs. They were very narrow, dirty with black mould growing up the yellow peeling wallpaper. I held my breath instinctively until I reached this long corridor, slowly walking along until I reached number 5B.
I took a deep breath, reaching my hand to the knocker when suddenly the door swung open.
“name.”
“Whizzer Brown.” It felt weird, the first time using a new name, it’s been three years, I had gotten too comfy. I had to change my look as well, the old eighties style glasses that kept slipping off of my face, slicking my hair back instead of letting it flop forward. The tight shirts that I would leave almost fully unbuttoned were now replaced with dorky suits that I couldn’t afford, suspenders that made me look like my father when he came home from work when I was a child.
I put my hand out to shake the man in the doorway’s hands, he looked up from the clipboard he was holding at my hand and scoffed at it.
“occupation?”
“trader.” New city, new fake job. He looked at me as though I had said something unreasonable. “what?” I asked.
“you could afford something nicer than this, you don’t need a roommate.” He replied, entering the apartment as I followed, slightly tentatively behind him.
“I recently went through a divorce.” I lied, “ex-wife’s fucking me in the ass.” I glanced around the apartment, not a bad size for how cheap it was.
“do you often have company over? Lady friends?”
I cocked my head “didn’t I just say that I was married?”
I inspected the kitchen as I waited for his response, “well you’re a wall street man, you people all usually have at least three mistresses and a prostitute you see on the regular.”
I paused my search for a second “I guess I will be having company over.”
“okay good, because I will too.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry, but I never caught your name.” I said in the awkward air that pursued, dipping my head into the bathroom as I pulled the shower curtain back from the bath.
“Marvin, Marvin Feldman.” He replied, “now, I’ll probably not bother you much during the day, and don’t get worried if I’m not here for a couple days.”
“where will you be?” I asked curiously.
“out.” He snapped. I guess he’s a private person. “if you have company, don’t worry about noise, the bedrooms were soundproofed in the thirty’s, but my one rule is, your girl, you clean out the drains, got it.”
“the likelihood of that happening is quite small.” I muttered to myself.
“what was that?” he asked.
“nothing.”
He stared me up and down and I suddenly got the urge to rip off his clothes, I don’t know why, I didn’t really find him attractive. He had a dad bod, a wedding ring and the apartment was incredibly clean as though he was either never there, or a serial killer. But Ted Bundy was hot, right? Maybe I could have one last fuck before I’m killed.
“so, would you like to take the apartment?”
I looked around it a final time, it was probably the best I could get with the little money I had until the insurance investigators had finished their case against me. And if this man was being honest about not being here often, in theory, it was the perfect situation.
“I’ll take it!” I exclaimed.
“good, because you’re the only applicant and my wife was really getting pissy about me still owning the place.”
I don’t know why but he seemed slightly superficial
-
I moved in straight away, a single suitcase, the only thing I had to unpack.
It was odd living with Marvin, in fact for the first week I didn’t see him at all. I was unemployed, but art was my life, so I turned my bedroom into my old studio, buying oil paints, turpentine and canvases with the final dollars I had. I knew I needed another source of income though, but I decided to wait, putting off my job search until I received news from the insurers.
One night, I met someone in a bar, I remember him being tall and muscular, he was a fireman or something.
We always revert back to fire.
I brought him home that night, clumsily kissing him as my back hit the apartment door. He pulled my ass into his crotch as I tried to open it, hands fumbling with excitement and we almost fell to the floor as it opened.
But instantly I knew something was up when I noticed the lights on, and I detached myself from the guy.
Sat in one of the chairs at the small dining table, reading a book, was Marvin.
He looked up at the pair of us with an almost unrecognisable expression, not shocked, not angry, but definitely not blasé about it all.
Then he looked back down to his book and the guy pulled me towards my bedroom. But all I thought of was Marvin as he put his hands over my body.
I was about to kick the guy out after we finished, but he was already asleep, so instead I put on a pair of underwear and went back out into the living room, grabbing sketchbook and some charcoal. To my horror, Marvin was still sitting there, nose still in his book.
“didn’t sound like you were having much fun.” He said without looking up as I sat opposite him, wincing at the pain in my ass.
I froze looking like a doe caught in headlights “I thought the bedrooms were soundproof!”
“well that only works if you close the door.”
“fuck, I’m sorry.” I replied, eyes fixed on him, “what gave it away?”
Marvin finally looked up, “your moans were way too feminine.” He said quickly, “also, it seemed kind of short.”
“god! I know. He almost came from me sucking him off. “Marvin looked down at his book, face slightly blushed, “I’m sorry, is this too much information for a straight guy?” I asked sincerely.
Suddenly from the other bedroom, I saw the door open and a man come out.
My jaw dropped to my feet.
“hey babe.” He said as he approached us, his figure was very feminine, and he strutted over as though he was wearing high heels. He planted himself on Marvin’s lap, looping an arm around his neck. “who’s this? Did you get us a third?”
My jaw dropped even further to the first floor.
“no, this is Whizzer, he’s the new roommate I was talking about. Whizzer, this is Adam.”
“well, Whizzer, it’s nice to meet you.” The man, I guess Adam, said to me before turning back to Marvin. He kissed him deeply and I watched as the book slipped out of Marvin’s hands and onto the floor.
I stared awkwardly for a moment before trying to avert my eyes, but like a car crash, I couldn’t seem to look away.
Adam got off of Marvin’s lap and strutted to the door, “ciao babe, and whizzer, you’re hot, come join us sometime. “He winked at me as though he knew something about me that even I didn’t know. My jaw was on the ground floor as Adam lit a cigarette, blew a kiss and left.
“what the fuck?”
“you do not have to join us.” Marvin made it clear
“what the fuck?”
“Imma break up with him soon, he irritates me.”
“what the fuck?”
“okay?” He picked up his book off of the floor, opening it on the page he had left it off of and opened it, beginning to read again.
“what the actual fuck?”
Marvin sighed, putting down his book again and stared over at me. “let’s play a game. A question for a question.”
I clapped my mouth shut and weighed my options; I could always lie.
“fine.” I said, cocking my eyebrow. “what do you want to know?”
“wife?” he asked.
I stared him dead in the eye directly across the table “made up. Wife?”
“cheating.” He replied, “job?”
“I told you, trader.”
“no, you’re not.”
“yes I am.”
“judging by the art supplies in your room, you aren’t. Plus, you seem kind of sensitive.”
“I’m not sensitive!” I objected.
“yes, you are! Okay, top or bottom?”
“bottom. job?”
“lawyer. Who’s the guy?”
“met him at a bar. Ever had a menage?”
“who the fuck calls it a ‘menage’? and yes.” He pushed his book away, “what happened to your last home?”
“well there was a- How do you… what do you…?” I felt the realisation wash over my body, quickly, I leapt up suddenly backing away from him, “you work for them!” I pinned myself up against the wall, terror in my stomach as I was overwhelmed by the people who had chased me for years having finally found me. He got up, putting his hands forward as he backed away from me.
“hey, it’s okay- “he slowly rooted through the cabinet by the kitchen counter as I bolted for the door, “-this is you right?”
The doorknob was jammed, and I turned to look over my shoulder, expecting to see a lighter and gasoline. Instead I saw a newspaper, a photo of my gorgeous house up in flames, and a blurry photo of me.
“what the fuck?” I cautiously approached him, reading through the article. “no, no, no, no, no!” I exclaimed.
“so, what’s your real name?”
I looked up from the paper, eyebrow sky high, “what?”
“sterling pierce? Whizzer Brown?”
“Whizzer. You have to call me Whizzer.” I tried reading the rest of the article, but all the words seemed to merge together.
“so, a secluded artist whose previous residence has burnt down, but they’ve seemingly re made themself.” He said as he moved towards me, “what else do I not know about you Whizzer Brown?”
I stalked up to the drawer, fumbling through other news clippings that were in it, “what the fuck, why do you have all of these?” I pulled out a ball of red wool and I almost laughed at how cliché it was.
He made a face, “I pulled it all down when I put the ad in the paper.” He said, as he began to take out the clippings, pinning them one by one onto the wall, creating a spiderlike pattern with the yarn. “I had to work a case, a fire that killed a family of three, the youngest child managed to survive, she was seven.” He continued pinning up the photos, changing the order every now and again. “I looked into the family for evidence as to why it wasn’t a murder suicide, but I found these links, a society of families, each one with an obscene amount of fire in their past.” He rooted through the cupboard; eyes fixed on me this time. “I needed to find someone from one of the families, but they were all underground, there was no way of finding them… and then I found you.”
Suddenly the false sense of security burst around me as I saw the cold metal barrel of the gun pointed at me.
“now, sit down and tell me everything.”
My mouth went dry and I licked my lips, trying to bring some moisture to my mouth as I backed up. “I… why the gun?” my voice was harsh with rasp as I slowly followed his gesture back to the table, trying not to make any sudden movements, not sure how trigger happy he was.
“because I’ve been looking for you for a long time, now that I’ve found you, I am not letting you get away.” Not menacing in the slightest. I sat down and he sat opposite me, this time I could feel the smooth wood of the table against the calloused tips of my fingers from where I had tried scrubbing the paint off “now I just want to make it clear, I am not going to injure you fatally, but if you try and escape, I will shoot you in the foot.” He stated, very plainly.
He passed me a case file that he had taken from the drawer. “okay- “he put the gun down on the table and for a moment I wondered if I was fast enough to leave, my dream was shattered almost instantly “- do you know these people?”
I looked him in the eye before looking at the photographs. “no, but my parents did.”
“did?”
“they’re dead”
“let me guess, fire?”
I nodded “died in a fire when I was sixteen while I was off in the French boarding school they had sent me to.” For a brief second I could smell the sickly-sweet roses in the headmasters office as he told me the news. “I hated it at the time, but they did it to protect me. How did you find out I was involved?”
“took a long time, this is very complex, my wife thinks I’m obsessing over it too much.”
“you are. If you dig, worse things will happen. Have you ever watched Antrum?” I asked. He shook his head and I let out a dark chuckle. “it’s about a pair of siblings who dig a hole to hell to get their dog back.” I felt the usual goosebumps form on the back of my neck like they usually did when I thought about it, “each time they dig further, more and more dark, satanic things happen, yet the pair are still oblivious. You are digging into something you don’t understand. Do you have a family?”
“a wife and child.”
“then you must stop digging. For their sake.” I leant back in my chair, thinking of my house up in flames.
“do you know who they are?”
I shook my head, “my parents did, all the originals did, but I was flung into it all of a sudden. I’ve been piecing it together ever since, but each time I find someone new to help me…” I trailed off, not even needing to finish the sentence as he instantly understood me. “how did you find me?”
“I have a map of all the fires in the city, the most recent one had the photo of you, and I could’ve sworn that I had seen you before. You have a very striking face.” I blushed, unsure whether it was a complement or not, “So I checked through all of my resources, everything, until I came upon this.”
He handed me a photo I had seen almost every single day of my life for ten years.
“how did you get this?”
The final photo of me with my parents, bright beaming smiles that showed how similar I was to them. A photo burnt in the final fire, a photo I had never shown to anyone.
“I found it on the sidewalk just outside.”
I had it framed and put it next to my bed after the first fire. In the beginning, it was painful to look at it, the tears falling instinctively every single time I saw it.
“I’ve never been around here before.” The chills ran down my spine, a single tingle of electricity pulsing from my core outwards, feeling it spark into my fingertips as I suddenly looked up. “someone’s planning something.” I got up, running to my room, forgetting about the man sleeping in my bed, forgetting about the gun, before packing up the most important things I owned, photographs, enough clothes to remake myself again, fake passports. I packed it all.
It only took me a couple of minutes, but I was back out in the living room, throwing down the luggage on the floor as I flurried around the room.
“you need to leave too.”
“what?”
I stopped, putting my hands on my hips, breathing deeply from my stomach, rubbing my bare chest. “shit, clothes.” Quickly, I opened the suitcase, pulling out a black shirt, buttoning it up quickly, black pants and the black jacket that went with it. Sleek. Dark. “if they know where I am, then they’ll smoke me out.” I said urgently, “if you’re still here, you’ll go down too.”
“what?”
“you need to leave. They know where you live, they knew you were getting close to them- “
“I’m fine here- “
“no, you fucking aren’t. I’ve been running from them for ten years- “Suddenly I began choking back my sobs, keeping it in for years has begun to take its toll on me, looking older than I should be, my lungs hurting during exercise after all of the smoke I’ve inhaled over the years. “-I haven’t had a chance to breath, to do things a normal kid should’ve done, I was happy for three years! Three god damn years before the only guy I trusted and loved turned out to work with them. I was going to marry him! I was comfy, I thought I could live that life forever.”
His face softened, “your fiancé burnt down your house?”
I nodded, “The only thing I didn’t like about him was his smoking, I should’ve known.” I bit the skin on top of hand to quiet my sobs, “I should’ve known.” I whispered.
Marvin stood awkwardly opposite me, the only sounds being the tiny whimpers that came from my mouth every now and again. “do you want me to call my wife, she’s good with feelings and shit.”
I let out a tiny giggle.
I’m not sure how, but he managed to convince me to stay. Maybe things would have been different if I hadn’t.
He lived in the apartment with me for that week, I didn’t see Adam or whoever he was and most of the time we just sat in silence at his dining room table, me trying to find any ways to scrape pennies together. I sold my paintings out on the stoop, I dyed my hair a dirty blonde, always wore these sunglasses I had nicked from the corner store, and I kept on my toes, observing, watching people who passed.
And for a week, I thought it was a false alarm, that the unexplainable photograph was an accident, a false sense of security settling around me, like the way antelope graze in the savannah whilst the lions watch in the grass, teeth sharp and pointed, poised, ready to pounce.
You never get used to the smell of smoke waking you up.
I think he loved me enough to skip our date to set the fire.
He was gorgeous, that was what drew me to him initially, then I trusted him. I trusted him because he let me have my space, didn’t push me to talk about my family. I guess that was because he already knew all about my parents.
The betrayal was painful at first, I spent the first two months crying, eating ice cream and watching dirty dancing in a motel room. But then I realised that he loved me, that he really did. Usually they would set the fire as soon as my cover was burnt, whether that meant I was at home or out. He knew about me since the day we met in that bar, it was no accident, but he waited until I was out of the house until he set it.
He waited.
The night of the fire, he stood me up on our date. No text, no call, nothing. I was fuming, hailing a cab and frantically trying to get in touch with my fiancé.
He didn’t pick up the phone.
I haven’t spoken to him since he picked me up for that date, dropped me off at the restaurant and told me he had one little thing to take care of.
His last words to me were, “hey baby, don’t look so sad. I love you.”
“I love you too.” A quick peck on the lips, a smile as he got back into his car.
Then he was gone as though he was never there, the only things remaining were the flames he set in his wake.
You never get used to the smell of smoke waking you up. Coughing, spluttering as your eyes can’t focus on the room. Your lungs sting as they fill up with smoke, and the timer that hangs over your head begins, counting down the minutes until you die in the most painful way possible.
I panicked as I took too deep of an inhale into my nose, eyes stinging as I burst into fits of coughing, only making it worse. I pulled off my duvet and fell to the floor, feeling on my hands and knees for something, anything. My hands grasped forward and my fingers clutched at some soft fabric, I quickly ripped it apart, taking the sleeve of what I can only assume was a t shirt and stuffed it over my mouth and nose.
The splinters from the wooden floorboards were painful on my hands, but the adrenaline was enough to keep me going, feeling around for the door, looking for the thin strip of light that cut through the smoke. I reached up, trying to find the handle and yelled out as I felt the burning hot handle. The sharp inhale I took caused me to splutter, the timer above my head speeding up.
I gritted my teeth, scrunched my eyes closed, bracing myself, before opening the door, the handle scorching and burning my flesh, the revolting smell of barbequed human causing me to gag as I sprinted to the front door.
I suddenly stopped, quickly turning back around as my heart dropped into my stomach.
“fuck.” My voice was raspy, and it hurt as I yelled out for him, “Marvin? Marvin?”
I was stuck, staring back and forth from my way out and Marvin’s bedroom, I bit my cheek and ran straight for Marvin’s door, ramming into it.
It didn’t budge.
I rammed it again, adding my shoulder to the list of things that hurt, and finally dropped the cloth, kicking down the door.
I couldn’t see anything at first, just the intense heat of the fire and the smoke billowing towards me. I closed my eyes as the smoke clouded my vision, the salty tears streaming from them. The smell suddenly overwhelmed me and instantly I threw up.
Then I saw him.
I couldn’t really see him. Instead I saw what used to be him.
Instead I saw a monster that I couldn’t even recognise.
A writhing body on the bed. Black and bright pink crumbling flesh, cracking and peeling back to expose blood, silent screams of a nightmare as his body and most of the room was engulfed in flames.
I panicked, not sure what I was doing as I stood frozen on the spot.
Terrified.
The only thing I could do was blink as I tried to escape it, numb as though I was watching a tv screen playing the moment.
And then I heard Marvin scream and I snapped, grabbing a blanket, fanning his flaming body, until I saw them roar and grow. I looked around the room, but I couldn’t see anything through the smoke. I tried to smother the flames, but even as the lightest blanket touched his skin, he made an animalistic noise, one that sent shivers down my spine.
So, I hauled his body into my arms, tears streaming down my face as I heard his cries and screams, the flames that were somehow still burning him, spreading to my clothes as my knees buckled underneath the weight of both our bodies, his contorting in a demonic way.
I was outside, not even sure how and I gently put down his body on the sidewalk, the juxtaposition of his burning body lying in a puddle as the rain pooled around his body, the singeing sounds of his burning flesh being hit with the water suddenly brought me back to real life and I began to hyperventilate, coughing aggressively.
“SOMEONE, SOMEONE CALL 911!” I yelled into the empty street, looking upwards as the glass windows shattered from the heat. I dove over Marvin’s body and he groaned in pain, his eyes flickering closed. “I’m so sorry.” I whispered. “for everything.”
The glass dug into my back, but I couldn’t feel it, knowing what was about to happen.
“it was Adam.” He gurgled quietly out as I could hear the sound of shouts from the other apartments.
The flames were finally dying down on his body, but he was almost unrecognisable, all hair burnt off, his skin, black and mangled, but his eyes, his eyes were the same.
“he doused me with gasoline and set the fire.”
I laughed shakily, trying to make him comfortable on the hard-concrete floor, his eyes drifting off out of focus before he brought them back, trying to stay awake. “I guess you shouldn’t have dumped him.” I joked, knowing it was all my fault.
I watched his pain-stricken face relax.
-
I suddenly woke up, shivering, the image of Marvin’s final breath stealing into my thoughts even though I now couldn’t picture his face. It was as though I could see him, but he was ever so slightly blurry, the details fading until I would be left with just the monster.
“fuck.” I whispered to myself, rubbing my arms to warm them up.
“hey, hey.” I rubbed my eyes as I felt them well up with tears, the voice relieving me as I looked over to my husband. “you okay?” he asked.
A warm smile was on his face and I laughed slightly, “I just had a bad dream.” He gave a me look, and I shoved him lightly, “hey, don’t look at me like I’m a kid!”
“you had a bad dream; kids have bad dreams.” He laughed.
I couldn’t help it, but I tried to supress my bright smile, not wanting him to get cocky.
“hey Whizz, I love you.” He said quietly.
I smiled gently, running my finger along his jawline “I love you too Marv.”