Flashover: noun, the near-instantaneous ignition of a room and its combustible contents due to thermal radiation feedback.
Elsanna, slow burn.
Enjoy! Or don't. What ever makes you happy.
Edit: Ch 2 fixed and now accessible.
It was virtually silent in the apartment complex in the center of the small and homely town known as Arendelle to most, a hellish pit that you can never seem to completely disappear from to others. This was a rare treat for the woman with fair skin and platinum blonde hair that was used to stirring in her bed, giving an exasperated grunt as her downstairs neighbors kept her awake with constant 'hang outs' that would evolve into full blown parties that lasted well into the early morning hours. The woman was almost concerned for the lack of bass that usually caused ripples in the glass of water that resided on her nightstand. The only thing heard was footsteps up and down the stairs every few hours. It was a welcomed silence and it would be taken well advantage of with a good night's sleep.
Arendelle is like most little country towns; politics are an abundant topic and the folks know each other. A trip to the grocery store is a game of duck and run like a movie star fleeing from the paparazzi to avoid bumping into someone who stalls with long, drawn out conversations about life after high school and future plans, forced smiles are painted on like that of a porcelain doll's. It's an exhausting ritual, really. But Elsa Kylmänä was never one to put her foot down and tell an old classmate, family friend or relative that she really had other tasks that needed her attention and asking her about what she's doing with her life nowadays while in the middle of the 'Cleaning Supplies' isle was not exactly how she saw herself mitigating her time.
Elsa figured that to an outsider, Arendelle was a quaint paradise that many who lived in the city most of their lives escape to in their later years. Those are the ones that relish in the sense of comfort most small towns have to offer with their family owned businesses and tiny school class populations. But those same things often are what the younger residents scoff at. They've seen it all, been to every tiny corner store, wandered around the only supermarket too many times, and befriended more odd strangers than they're comfortable admitting, all for the sake of eradicating pesky boredom, that which always returned in a timely manner.
Elsa rotated herself several times in her bed with these musings. The sheets which had been pulled taut up to her neck were now a cloak over her shoulders and back as she pressed her head into her pillows. This was her first year legally on her own, in her own space that is her apartment as a commuting student to a college in a neighboring town. As a fresh high school graduate with many expectations for the future, Elsa kept mostly to herself after parting from her classmates, only visiting with friends on special occasions. She had a small ring of friends, at that, but it never bothered her much due to being naturally introverted; she enjoyed people, but in small doses with the safe retreat of her home in close proximity.
Abruptly, the blonde turned her head to the side and inhaled fresh, cool air deeply after lying face down for a short while. The faint freckles that meticulously dusted the swell of her cheeks just below her eyes were drawn up slightly as she made a face at a strange scent that had wafted by her nose. She smelled a faint mixture of diesel exhaust and melting plastic and fanned her nose as she turned onto her opposite side and pulled the blankets over her head. The kids downstairs were always accidentally burning things on their stove, either from neglect or attempting to make food as seen on television.
Shrugging off the offending smell, Elsa burrowed further into her blanket cocoon and found herself finally becoming comfortably drowsy. Her thoughts drifted along much more slowly as she closed her eyes and began to dream about the long school days that were occasionally peppered with unusual adventures lead by friends. Only three months prior, she had donned a red cap and gown and stood beside the others that made up her graduating class of merely one hundred-fifty students, grinning widely as the crowd of elated parents and relatives and friends of students and alumni applauded, the school band finishing the time tested song "Pomp and Circumstance" on a slightly sharp, overlooked note. Elsa recalled scanning the crowd in search of a couple whom she knew would never be there, but her heart still pounded at the rush of false hope that resided somewhere within the depths of her mind. She still fought to find a tall, charismatic man with an unforgettable proud stance and a woman with dark hair that contrasted her pale features and a loving smile that could bend even the most tempered steel. When her search became fruitless, the grin that once painted Elsa's face slowly shrank into a thin line as she pursed her lips and blinked away the onslaught of tears.
As the class was ushered to sit, two shadowed figures danced around behind the back row of the audience. The blonde strained to see any recognizable features to these mysterious shadows, a feeling of something being off kilter overwhelmed her senses as her eyes chased the dark masses that hid behind various people. They seemed to almost taunt her, to dare her to rise from her seat and pursue them. But still she remained seated, her hands placed in her lap with nails biting harshly into her palms as the headmaster of the school droned on with his commencement speech. A hint of light brown hair that Elsa could recognize anywhere appeared, and the shadows that once hid the top of the tallest dark mass was slowly falling away like the sun was just barely casting overhead.
The breath that she had begun to suck in forcefully is what wretched her awake from her dream that had turned into a night terror as she immediately sat up and coughed violently, her lungs burning from foreign, tainted air that had entered. Elsa's eyes watered mercilessly as she tried to rub away the stinging sensation so she could look around her room. Her nose began to drip and she stuffed her comforter against her face in an attempt to gather air that didn't choke her.
Thickening gray smoke hung in layers around Elsa's room and with a deep breath sucked from her blanket, she leaped from her bed and immediately sunk down onto her hands and knees, dirtying cheeks puffed out as she held her single good breath of air and crawled toward the front door. In her clumsiness and hazy mind, Elsa hit her head off of the corner of the entrance into the kitchen and yelped in pain, clutching the top of her head and panicking as her last clean breath was stolen away. She slipped the collar of her shirt up over the bridge of her nose and pressed her hand over the cloth, feeling drool and tears seep through the cotton as she gasped for clean air, her lungs rejecting the unburned particles that continued to infiltrate down her trachea. She could manage very small and choppy breaths; those, to her surprise, didn't send her into coughing fits. By the time she found the door, the panicky blonde felt unbelievably exhausted. She groped wildly for the door knob, only to wretch her hand away and cry out as the metal scorched her palm. Sobs began to rise from her chest, the young woman not knowing what else to do.
Closing the scalded hand tightly and biting her lip at the throbbing that followed, she felt a rush of determination, her will to survive. One way or another, that door was going to be opened. She reached up once more, biting her lip in anticipation of the agony that was to follow and bracing herself, she grasped the door knob firmly and turning it, quickly letting go after pulling it open slightly. Elsa opened her mouth and screamed soundlessly as she looked at the grossly white dead skin that streaked across her right hand, amazed at how it still felt like she was clinging to the door nob, her pulse pounding against the injured flesh. She looked through the door and her eyes widened, the throbbing suddenly nonexistent as she looked at what once was the base of the staircase that lead outside, now engulfed in a wall of orange flames that were crawling up the stairs like a serrated toothed beast that was trying to sneak up on its prey.
"Oh, fuck no! Fuck that. Fuck this, fuck, fuck, I don't fucking think so!" Elsa shouted as she fell back and kicked the door shut. She was never one to curse much, believing there are selective times and places for it.
Seeing a billowing fire advancing up the stairs toward her seemed to be exactly the time and place for plenty of cursing.
She crawled quickly back over to her bed, yanking her comforter off and dragging it behind her as she made her way back to the kitchen and wedged as much of it as she could under the gap of the front door. When she was satisfied with her work, she pressed her body as flatly as she could on the floor and held a portion of the comforter to her face, sucking in desperate gasps of air, trying to find the coolest part of the room to remain in. Everything felt boiling hot and sweat beaded on Elsa's forehead and she shivered each time she felt sweat roll down her back in the spaces where her shirt didn't cling to her skin. She decided that the last resort was making it to her bedroom window, which faced the parking lot and where people would see if she made movement. Resisting the urge to lie down and rest, the blonde scooted along the floor, too tired to crawl, and clenched her burned hand each time her already heavily lidded eyes closed for more than a moment.
The floor that she pulled her weight across had begun to obtain soft spots that she could never clearly recall having, and she didn't know why it was happening, but she knew it was definitely not a good sign. Her fingers dug into the carpet in her bedroom as she began to lose momentum, the air too saturated with gasses and smoke for any usable oxygen to inhale. Elsa clawed at her throat with her raw hand as her heart clanged against her ribcage like a church bell. Red, yellow, and blue lights shone through the smoke and a sense of relief further hampered her ability to carry herself toward the window that was all but screaming for her. It was within arm's reach but felt and appeared to be yards away. The woman's mouth hung open as she had to clear her throat between each short breath to keep herself from choking on the abundance of phlegm and saliva that clogged her airway.
'Just open the window and stick your arm out, that's all you gotta do," the mantra circled Elsa's head as she brought herself to a crouching position and pressing the heels of her hands against the lip of the window, using all her reserved strength to try and push it upwards.
When the window pane didn't budge, she began shoving against it, small cries coming out as the heat made it unbearable to remain any higher than sprawled on the floor. It dawned on the woman that she must have locked the window some time during the day. Bile began to rise in the back of her throat with the thought of being entirely trapped by fire, and with no other tenants even knowing what her name is, much less whether or not her car is among those parked in the lot to indicate that she's still in the building.
'Break it. Smash the window," the sudden idea exploded in her mind and Elsa slunk across the carpet, to her nightstand, using her bed as a guide.
When her head clunked against a wooden leg, she couldn't help the small smile that appeared and she reached up and smoothed her uninjured hand across the top, feeling for a particular object. She felt cool metal and grabbed at it, pulling it back down to her as she felt around for the tip. It was her favorite utility knife that she kept for many purposes, one of them she never figured she would have to use. Her thumb pressed against the pointed end that was the window breaker and shrank back down so she could find her way back to the window.
She could hear a flurry of chaos below her as firefighters entered the first floor to suppress the flames that were now lapping at her front floor, and she knew it would take ages for them to make it upstairs to check for any tenants. After pressing her free hand against the wall just below the window, Elsa summoned every ounce of her being to crouch up once more. She wound her arm back, the pointed end poised as she gripped the knife painfully tight. With a grunt, she gritted her teeth, squeezed her eyes shut and rammed her fist forward and smashed the point against the window. The sound of glass shattering rang in her ears and she flinched as pieces fell down her arm and around her head. The blonde opened her eyes and used the knife to help fling away any remaining pieces of glass, not caring as blood began to bead and drip from the pads of sliced fingertips. Spotlights began being appearing at the window, illuminating the bloody, flailing arm.
Elsa could hear people shouting in recognition that there was somebody trapped, and the roar of firetrucks operating enveloped her as she drew her arm back down to herself, her body feeling like gelatin against the floor. She pressed her forehead into the carpet and allowed her burning eyes to close, a feeling of safety and relief soaking into her body. The sound of the entirety of her window being broken sounded further away than she was comfortable with, and her head felt like a helium filled balloon on a string. Her heart no longer pounded, so much as it seemed to struggle along to the next beat, and Elsa stopped hearing any noise at all as she fell into a silent, dark, unconscious universe where the shadows welcomed her home.
The sound that could mirror that of Darth Vader invaded the room as a flashlight shone on Elsa's body. The firefighter straddled the window as they slammed their ax against the floor to assure it was still strong enough to support two people. They crossed the other leg over and placed the ax against the wall beside the window. A second firefighter remained on the ladder to receive the unconscious patient. The firefighter crouched down and gathered the blonde in their arms and stood, turning to place her feet outside first, then into the arms of the receiving firefighter, draping her arms and head over their shoulders. The first firefighter grabbed their ax and headed back out the window and down the ladder after the second firefighter reached the ground with the woman.
Almost stumbling down the rungs, they hurried to discover the fate of the woman but they stopped short when they saw the woman was already on the stretcher as she was being loaded into the ambulance. Bringing a glove up to the front regulator of their breathing apparatus, they unclasped it and placed it in the waist holder and unbuckled their helmet, tossing it to the ground beside them as they pulled their sweat-coated face piece off to reveal a panting, overheated redheaded woman. She wiped her face carelessly with her gloved hand and kneeled on the ground as another firefighter approached her.
"Anna, you and Kristoff did an excellent rescue tonight. That gal is gonna live because of both of your quick actions. And Anna, if it weren't for your eye, nobody else would have seen that window break and her arm sticking out. Good job, now go and get some water and take a break." Anna beamed at the praise given to her and her partner from a superior officer and she thanked him graciously as she gathered her face piece and helmet before going to search for the rehabilitation tent that was set up for every lengthy and strenuous house fire.
Even with hunger and thirst being primary in her mind, she still couldn't help but wonder about the woman she just pulled out of that building. She trusted her officer's word and had faith in the job that the EMTs always do but she felt the nagging desire to see for herself that the blonde was going to be alright. She figured that a call to the local trauma center was in order for tomorrow morning after her shift, and food, water, and finishing her job would be the most of her worries for the night.