CHAPTER TWO – Inferno

For two weeks after Emily Glum's portrait was made…she felt guilty about her bet with the three men. She wondered how she could have been so stupid, so silly! Her guilt, in fact, was so intense that she hid the portrait in the bottom of her dresser, not letting anyone see it. She then repented of her deed before God and set about to forget the bet she had made.

She wondered and prayed about Wotton and Gray before she went to bed each night…horrified at Dorian's decision. An earthly life of youth and pleasure…in exchange for his very soul? The idea was horrifying to her. However…Dorian seemed like a nice man.

"'Sorly a man lik' 'dat wouln't be dat foolish," she mused. "Suc' a thing as 'dat…he won't do nuthin' awful."

However, this did not mean Emily chose to quit changing lives for the better whenever she could – far from it! One cool night, she found a would-be thief at her door. Instead of calling the police and sending the man away, she sat down with him on the front steps of the apartment, talking to him about the Lord and telling the man how much the Lord loved him.

"Why 'ye be out 'ere a-stealin'?" Emily finally asked.

"I ain't go' money 'or me baby," he explained shamefully. "I'ma fixin' 'ta get 'victed, me an' my family. All I need is five pounds – jes' five measly lil' pounds – an' we keep de house!"

"When ye needin' 'de money?"

"Tamarrah, in de mornin'."

Without thinking, Emily gave away the birthday money Mr. Mason had given her. "Yo' git on home ta 'our family, an' be careful," she said, knowing that the man had come from the criminal-filled East End of London. "'Dis ain' no time 'ta be wanderin' 'de street – thieves an' murderin' folk be out."

"Yes, ma'am!" he said cheerily. "An' yo' bes' git up 'ta bed – yo' prolly hav' ta be up in 'de mornin'."

A few days after her visit with the would-be criminal, Emily was in the middle of a hard day's work at the textile mill, hauling in the heavy bags of cotton. Now, some would say such a job would be impossible for young Emily, but her upper body was strong – very strong. Mr. Remming once had another individual, a big, strapping man, doing the job. However, when the man demanded one raise too many – and Mr. Remming caught Emily gathering the massive bags in a wagon and hauling them, despite her missing leg – the man was fired, and the job passed to her.

Emily worked as she always did, hauling the bags. She knew the risks of her job…brown lung from the dust and lint, amputations…and more frightening than any other, the risk of fire. If a fire began in the building, it would have fuel enough to torch the whole street if the conditions were perfect.

And unbeknownst to Emily, one of the girls had tripped over a can of kerosene in Mr. Remming's office upstairs, knocking it over…and the fuel had made its way to an oil lamp that the foreman had not put out. Within minutes, the foreman's office had gone up in flames…and the sounds of screams from the second floor were terrifying to hear.

Emily knew that Mr. Remming had told her to evacuate the building if a fire ever started…to run and not think of anything but her own survival. However…that was not Emily Glum's way, bet or no bet.

In her mind, she was to be the last one out of an emergency…even if she was hauled off to the morgue in ashes. As the sounds of screams finally reached her ears, Emily turned and ran toward the fire…as others ran away. She quickly found that the women and girls were making their way out successfully, but the fire was moving fast…and there was no telling if everyone else had made it out.

Emily ignored the heavy smoke, lack of air, and the tears in her eyes as she made her way toward the source of the fire. She knew time was running out…but something in her spirit stirred.

Someone hadn't made it out yet. Emily was having trouble both breathing and walking, checking every so often to make sure her wooden leg had not caught fire.

If it did…she was doomed. Finally, she made her way to "The Prison," a small anteroom just off the hall from Mr. Remming's office, where he punished workers for slovenly dress, laziness, or other indiscretions that didn't merit firing. Inside, she found four girls and two young boys, all of them choking, crying, and terrified. The room had only one small window, with a ledge beneath it.

It was the only way out…the entire floor was up in flames, and Emily was unsure if they would all escape. Emily used her strong, skinny arms to throw open the sticky old window. She could see a panicked mass of people in the street below.

There was no time to wait for a ladder…they would have to jump. The boys didn't need to be told – they hurriedly grabbed two girls and leapt to the street below. Emily was practically gagging on smoke – if she didn't get air, and quickly, she would no doubt perish.

The third girl, a hothead with no fear, leapt out alone – leaving Emily and another girl. "Miss Emmie," the girl said, coughing, "I'ma scared!"

"Ye ain' go' tim' 'or dat, Lizzie – no' if ya wan' 'ta liv'!"

"But wha' yo' gonna do?"

"Da Lawd gonna lead me ou', dat what…*cough* *cough*… He goan' do."

Emily didn't want to have to pitch Lizzie out the window – but saw that she had no choice as the flames began to flood the room, forcing the girls to get to the window. "If you don' up an' go ou', I'ma hafta put ye out!" Emily roared over the fire.

"Bu' Miss Emmie-"

Emily, disregarding the bet, didn't let Lizzie finish. With the last bit of her strength, she lifted the terrified girl up, held her over the ledge, and dropped her down into the crowd of firemen and terrified people, who just barely managed to catch her. Emily, meanwhile, sagged to the floor, losing consciousness as the roof on the other side of the building collapsed…and a downpour began.

Without warning, and for reasons none could explain…the fire immediately went out. One minute, the building was ablaze…the next, the fire disappeared, leaving nothing but a charred husk of a building in its wake. Mr. Remming, a straw-thin man with a thick black goatee and matching hair, was sobbing…but as soon as he saw the flames disappear, he ran toward the building.

"Sir, you can't!" the fire chief protested, still shaking off being hit in the head when the young tomboy landed on him.

"EMILY!" Remming roared, tearing up the stairs like a maniac as he made his way to the room from which Emily had dropped Lizzie. As fire crews moved quickly to hoist a ladder, Mr. Remming quickly located the unconscious girl, barely breathing but alive, on the floor. She reeked of smoke and her clothing was a little charred, but she was alive.

"Emily, Emily," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Emily!" He held her, crying until the ladder and a fireman appeared, and then he helped her get out of the building. She was then placed on a litter, and hurried away by carriage to a hospital.