Back by popular demand - a. k. a. one guy said it wasn't that bad - here it is, for you viewing pleasure/disgust. Enjoy!
Chapter seven Trial by fire
Martin, Roger and Carl crowded around the bedsides of Tony and Patrick. "How are they doing, doctor?" Martin asked.
"Well, your builder friend will be out for a few days, but when he comes to, he'll be on his feet in no time. As for Mr. Ortega-" the doctor began.
"I'm right here, you know," Tony said.
"Duly noted. As for you, Mr. Ortega, you'll never play football again, but you are free to leave here. However, you will be restricted to a wheelchair for the next six months, and any strenuous activity will prompt a return to the hospital." With that said, the doctor walked away.
Martin approached Tony. "How are you doing, Tony?"
"Great, I couldn't be better," Tony said.
"Listen, I'm sorry about how this turned out-"
"Sorry? You've got no reason to be sorry. I'm having the time of my life here!" Tony said happily.
"Come again?"
"Last night, I had sex with three different nurses! Including one that I think was just a girl posing as a nurse, but I didn't care! Plus, I'm not going to die like the rest of you, so of course I'm feeling great!"
"Well, it's good to see your personality hasn't retreated back under the rock it came from," Martin said sarcastically.
"But seriously," Tony said, "Thank you for saving my life."
"Well, you're welcome, Tony," Martin said, caught totally by surprise by his gratitude.
"I mean, let's face it. Before you saved me, there were only three things I was good at: Playing football, getting girls, and being a total asshole. Now, I've found a fourth thing I'm good at – saving lives."
"That you did, Tony, that you did," Martin said. "You may not be that much of an asshole after all."
"You and me," Tony continued as if uninterrupted, "are the two heroes of the stadium survivors."
"Where'd you come up with that one?" Roger said critically.
"That's what the channel 18 news station said they would call us," Tony said.
"What?" Roger said.
"The channel 18 news."
"Please don't tell me you called the channel 18 news, that told them all about our situation, and that they are now outside, waiting to interview us."
"Okay, but when they put that microphone in your face and ask you questions, don't complain to me about keeping you in the dark."
"Come on, Tony! Media exposure is the last thing we need now," Martin said.
"You may have gotten out of this experience alive, but some of us are still on death's list!" Roger said.
"What's the big deal? Was anyone killed by a flying microphone in your vision? Anyone struck by a falling reporter? Did anyone have a stroke from being asked too many questions?" Tony asked sarcastically.
"You know, he has a point," Roger said.
"I still don't know," Martin said uncertainly.
"Come on. Didn't you say you heard about those other disasters in the news?" Tony said.
"Yeah, so?" Martin returned.
"Wouldn't it be easier to find out about it if there's more publicity?" Tony finished almost condescendingly.
Martin sighed. "Fine, I'll play along. But pride is a deadly sin, and you can't pretend you're not just doing this to stoke yours."
"Deal. Now, let's go meet the hungry public," Tony said, hoisting himself into the wheelchair and wheeling himself outside.
"So, this is just the channel 18 news, right?" Martin said. "Nobody really watches channel 18 anyway."
"Yeah, I thought of that," Tony responded.
"Oh no."
"So I figured, what do people watch?"
"How much am I going to hate the answer?" Martin said as they left the hospital.
"There they are!" a woman screamed out.
Suddenly, a reporter shoved a microphone into Tony's face. "This is the Central Sports Network, reporting on Tony Ortega and Martin Lopez, the two heroes of the stadium survivors. Tony, any comment?"
"You called CSN?" Martin muttered furiously at Tony, who ignored him.
"Yeah, I've got a comment," Tony said, struggling to stand on his feet. "I'd like to tell Death to take that big, pointy scythe, and ram it right up his ass!" he hollered, to roaring applause.
"But, seriously," Tony said, "I have now evaded Death twice, and that has led me to ponder mortality. Life is short, and we need to use every moment we're given.
"With that in mind, if there are any girls in this crowd that would like to have sex with me-" He was cut off by a tremendous roar from the crowd, some of which seemed to be tearing off their clothes on the spot.
"Not right here! Now, let's see," Tony said, scanning the crowd. "You-" he said, pointing at one woman, "come with me, and I will see you-" he said, pointing at another woman, "in five minutes. Nothing too kinky, though, I'm still kind of beaten up."
"Tony, wait! You need to stick with the rest of the survivors!" Martin hissed.
"Relax, Martin," Tony said, starting to roll into the hospital with the first girl. "My second one only lasts three minutes, you'll have plenty of time left." Without another word, he rolled his chair into the hospital, leaving Martin, Carl and Roger alone with the press.
"And here is Martin Lopez, the second hero of the stadium survivors. Any comment, Martin?" the reporter asked.
Figuring he might as well make the best of a bad situation, Martin began to speak. "Well, there is something you should know. The survivors are dying in the same order and way that they should've died had they not been saved. Therefore, if you see any of these people and something around them looks strange, see if it presents a threat to them.
"Now, for example, Roger is next, and he was supposed to die when a falling chunk of stone crushed him, so if you see a loose cinderblock, warn him. After him…"
"After him, Jason Durlap died when a football helmet splintered and a piece landed in his brain. Then his mother, Danielle Durlap, died when she was immolated by a faulty air conditioner-"
In her apartment, Danielle switched off her television. "It's amazing what kind of shit they'll show on television," she muttered.
"Why'd you turn off the TV, mom?" Jason said, popping up beside her, wearing Tony's helmet.
"It was that nut job from the stadium again," Danielle said. "I can't believe how much he's doing to try and convince us."
"So you don't think he made any sense at all?" Jason asked.
"Of course not. Now put that helmet back in the closet and wash up for lunch," Danielle snapped.
"OK, mom," Jason said, going into the closet and putting the helmet on the top shelf.
What Jason didn't know is that the helmet slipped off of the shelf and hit the hose for the butane tanks they used as fuel, causing it to slip off and steadily leak butane into the room.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Danielle shivered as a cold wind blew through the room. Shivering, she closed the windows, only to discover that the wind was still blowing.
"I'm going to nail that caulker I hired to the wall," she said, turning up her thermostat a few degrees. Still muttering, she walked into her kitchen, filling a pot with water. Suddenly, she saw a shadow pass over the water, wheeling around only to find nothing was there.
"Get it out of your head, Danielle! There's no way that Martin kid was right," she said to herself. "I have nothing to fear from anything, including fire." She turned on the gas on her stove, lit a match – and dropped it with a yell when the flame stretched towards her, accidentally overturning a bottle of vegetable oil.
"Not in danger, not in danger, not in danger!" she muttered to herself. Out loud, she said, "Jason? Can you light this for me? Mommy's feeling a little sick today."
"Okay, mom," Jason said, lighting the stove, blowing out the match, and throwing it into the trash can.
What Jason didn't know was that the match head was still warm.
As Danielle sopped up the oil with some paper towels and started to throw them away, she thought about what Martin said.
I don't believe it, I can't believe it! But what if I really do believe it, and I just don't want to?
What Danielle didn't know was that the match head lit the paper towel drenched in vegetable oil in the trashcan.
I don't believe it, I don't believe it, I don't believe it!
What she did know was that, a few minutes later, the entire trashcan caught on fire.
"Aah! I believe it! I believe it! I believe it!" she hollered. Stumbling back, she accidentally knocked over the pot of boiling water, causing it to scald her left ankle. She screamed and fell, and as the trashcan fire spread to a few stray newspapers around the apartment, she began to wish she had listened to Martin-
Suddenly Jason came into the room with a fire extinguisher, extinguishing the trashcan fire and stamping out the newspapers. "Mom!" he yelled.
"Thank you, Jason," Danielle said.
What she didn't know was that the room, with all windows and doors closed, had been steadily filling up with butane, causing everything in the room to become extremely flammable.
What she did know was that as Jason took off her left shoe and sock, the back of her coat, whose collar had been near the still lit burner, caught on fire.
Screaming again, she pulled off the coat and threw it onto the floor, stamping on it with her right foot. As she did so, the leather on her shoe caught fire, forcing her to pull her shoe and sock off, leaving her barefoot. Jason tried to extinguish the coat, but he found the extinguisher was empty. Danielle looked around and saw the fire alarm button. Limping towards it, she attempted to pull it; unfortunately, the remaining vegetable oil on the cheap wooden counter was the next to burst into flames, and a wall of fire now blocked the fire alarm.
Seeing their options dwindle, Danielle ran for the door, but as the fire spread across the table, an explosion knocked her off balance, making her land on her scalded left foot. As she landed on the floor, Jason ran to her. "Mom! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Jason. Get to the door," Danielle said. She struggled to her feet while Jason struggled with the door. Suddenly, an explosion sent their refrigerator toppling towards him.
"Jason!" Danielle yelled, pulling Jason away from the falling refrigerator. She saved him from being crushed, but the door was blocked by the fridge.
"What do we do?" Jason asked.
Suddenly, the microwave exploded and a shard flew into Jason's head, killing him.
Four down.
"JASON!" Danielle yelled, stooping over his body and sobbing.
WHOO! WHOO!
The fire alarm acted as a wakeup call for Danielle, and she ran to the window, trying to reach the fire escape. She found the window locked, so she grabbed a chair and began slamming it against the window. The window, however, didn't seem to be breaking.
Meanwhile, the fire continued to spread, engulfing the rug in the living room.
"Come on! Come on!" she yelled, starting to sob.
The fire began lapping at the closet door.
Finally, the glass broke, and Danielle clambered onto the fire escape.
The fire engulfed the clothes in the closet.
On the fire escape, Danielle looked at the stairs, which were covered with broken glass. Then she looked at her bare feet. She looked at the ground, one floor below. Finally, she decided to jump off of the building.
However, just as she climbed onto the guardrail, ready to jump, the fire reached the butane tanks.
BOOM!
The resulting explosion knocked Danielle off of the rail down one story onto the ground, breaking her leg.
She picked herself up and tried to stand, but with one leg broken and the other scalded, the most she could do was crawl, and she was unable to do more than a few feet of that.
Well, at least I'm sheltered from the rain, Danielle thought.
Then a few embers drifted down from the apartment and set her shirt on fire.
"AAAAAAAH!"
It took the fire department ten minutes to reach her, and she was legally dead in three.
Five down.