Thinking that Mrs. Abrams had maybe inhaled too much smoke, I looked over my shoulder. He really wasn't there. My body quickly turned towards the house. The flames from the inside reflected off the glass windows, but Artie was nowhere to be seen.
"I swear he was right behind me." I panicked staring at the front door, waiting for Artie's sweet smiling face to roll out. Mrs. Abrams walked to the side of me and placed her right hand on my shoulder and her left over her heart. I heard her swallow hard.
"I-I have to go back for him." I said taking a step forward.
"Tina, stop." Mrs. Abrams said gripping at my shoulder.
"We can't just leave him in there!" I defended, speaking with my hands.
"It's way too dangerous to go back in. I don't want both of you in there." She said sounding very motherly.
"But…he's all alone in there." I choked.
"I know Tina." She said looking up at the house.
"I don't like it anymore then you do."
Smoke continued to pour out of the slowly decaying house. All I could think about was how scared he must be. Not only was he alone in a burning building, but also, he couldn't run away from the danger. Even if he wanted to. With that thought in mind, I reached for his mother's outstretched hand.
Ten minutes had passed before sirens were finally heard coming in our direction. It honestly felt like eternity. The left front of the Abram's household was in a blanket of flames as firefighters came onto the scene.
"Is there anyone else in the building?" The smallest of the group asked. I read the name across her chest and repeated it in my head: Sanchez.
"My son." Mrs. Abrams said on the verge of tears.
"He's paralyzed from the waist down."
Sanchez and the other firefighter next to her exchanged glances before nodding simultaneously. Yet another rescue crewmember led us to the road where a group of people gave us a blanket to keep the night air off our skins. A firefighter in a faded yellow suit kicked opened the front door. I looked over at Mrs. Abrams. She had her fingers intertwined and pressed against her forehead as she said the Lord's Prayer. I placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Hang in there, Artie." I said gently squeezing her shoulder.
I closed my eyes for a moment hoping the next time I opened them, I'd be lying on the floor of Artie's bedroom. This had to be just a terrible nightmare. To my dismay, I was still sitting on the ground facing the burning building that held Artie Abram's life in it's hands.
"Why haven't they found him?" Mrs. Abrams choked, emerging out of mediation. I honestly had no answer for her. The same question burned in my mind as well. The rescue crew had to be in there for a good five minutes. Emergency Medical Technicians stood on hand with an ambulance ready, and even they seemed uneasy about the situation.
Firefighters began to emerge out of the building one after another, but none of them were guiding Artie out of the building. I stopped breathing. Artie's mother had her hand over her mouth, fearing the worst. After the fourth rescuer walked out, I lost hope. I hung my head, trying to fight back my tears.
"Tina." Mrs. Abrams said straightly.
I looked up. Walking down the stairs that lead to the front door was one last firefighter. In his arms, a lifeless Artie was cradled. Before either his mother or I could react, Emergency Medical Technicians rushed to the firefighter's aid. Artie's body was placed on a stretcher and straightened out. I could see that words were being spoken, but I couldn't hear a single one with all the commotion. Without a word, Mrs. Abrams stood up. Not knowing what else to do, I followed her lead.
"What's happening to my son?" She asked the firefighter that carried Artie out.
"It's tough to say." He said.
I knew exactly what that meant. What he was trying to say, without upsetting Artie's mother, was that he wasn't going to make it. This was also known as false hope, but I held my tongue. Instead I watched the medical team as they slid Artie and the stretcher into the back of the ambulance vehicle.
"If you hurry, you could probably get a ride up to the hospital with him." He said, as I slowly drifted back into the conversation. The way over to the ambulance was also a blur. I couldn't tell if there was something actually wrong with me or if I was just having an anxiety attack.
"There's only room for one more." A woman in a blonde ponytail said.
"Tina, I'll drive up. Stay with him." She said taking a hold of my hands and looking at me dead straight in the eyes. All I could do was nod.
The same woman who addressed Mrs. Abrams pulled me into the vehicle. I felt like a rag doll as she sat me down at the seat closest to the door. I told myself not to, but I looked directly at Artie. He was as pale as a ghost and his lips were a tint of blue. From head to toe, he was covered in black patches of soot. His once white T-shirt was now a medium shade of gray with burn holes though out its surface. The most traumatic image for my eyes had to be the condition of his right arm. From the tips of his fingers to his elbow were violent shades of black and red. The worst of it seemed to be around his wrist, where the burn was almost unbearable to look at. The rest of his body had minor burns that resembled the structure of his wheelchair. I couldn't even imagine what he went though in there.
"He's in Shock."
Every single person who was conscious in the room knew what was going on but me. Big, long medical sounding words were spat out all around me. I could have figured out what was going on, but the only thing my mind could concentrate on was the lifeless boy in front of me. Suddenly out of nowhere, Artie Abram's shirt was ripped into two like a piece of paper. His bare chest was exposed to the bright lights of the ambulance. A man with red hair squirted a clear gel all over Artie's pale chest.
"One, two, three."
I then realized what they were trying to do as soon as Artie's whole body jumped from the electric shock of the defibulator. His heart had stopped. I began to squint my eyes shut and bite my lip as they tried again.
"We got him." The blonde woman from before panted. I reopened my eyes. Artie's bare chest was slowly moving up and down on it's own. I started breathing again myself.
The red head put a mask over Artie's face. I only assumed that he was giving him oxygen. Meanwhile the blonde woman began to clean the monstrous burn before sticking on IV in his other arm. Though the EMTs seemed calmer then, I was still shook up by the scene I had witnessed.
Once at the hospital, Artie was immediately rushed to the trauma unit. I was lead to the waiting room by a nurse where Mrs. Abrams was waiting impatiently in a chair. Once she saw me, she ran to my side.
"Artie…I-is he okay?" She asked with fear in her eyes. It was obvious that she was crying before I arrived. Her eyes were red and puffy.
"They got him breathing." I said.
"He's alive?" She asked, anxious to know. I calmly nodded my head, and locked she her arms around in relief. I gasped for air, but then forgave her tight squeezing. I then realized that it was the second time in her lifetime that she almost lost her only son.
A?N: "Respire Justo" means just breathe in spanish. :)
Thanks for all the support. More to come soon.
