Talisman of Hate

He held the child against his chest and crawled towards where he thought the window was. He hit something solid and a terrible panic made him fall over, stealing the last of his bearings. Instinct made him roll to his knees and then as if a soft hand was guiding him, he felt the heat decrease just that little bit. He opened his eyes and could just see the smoke billowing over him towards his right and he crawled as fast as his waning strength allowed, bumped into the bed again and once again opened his eyes. Through tears he could see the smoke billowing away from him over the bed and with his last strength and breath he got to his knees, onto the bed and felt the space in front of him. He ripped the child from him and threw it out of the building and tried to crawl after it but the gods had decided that at least one soul had pay for the lives of two kids.

With the oxygen coming through the broken windows and the temperature inside reaching critical value, the smoke ignited in a ball of thick orange flame. In a second his hair and clothes went up in flames. Pain overtook his senses and he screamed with his last breath as he groped for the open window, feeling his skin pull as it shrivelled in the heat. He felt space in front of him and he felt himself falling. Searing pain shot through him. He tried to scream but he had no breath as he felt hands pulling at him and then felt the blows as the bystanders extinguished his burning clothes. In desperation he drew a breath. It was cool and comforting but with it came the pain. He could only groan as hands moved over the burns sending waves of pain scorching through him.

***

"Looks like there is a fire in town," Johnny said off handedly to Charlotte as he walked into the house. "Thick black smoke going up in a pall. Could be a building by the looks of it."

Charlotte looked up and leaned to the side so that she could see through the window and shook her head in disconnected sympathy. "Hope nobody gets hurt," she said softly and continued with her work. She didn't look up at the smoke again and neither did Johnny until much later when the pall had almost diminished.

Brigitte walked out of the hair salon and saw people running. Following the direction of their run she looked up at the eastern sky and saw the black smoke billowing high into the sky. Her chest cramped in a fear still lurking shallow in her mind. She was a little girl when their house burnt down and she had stood there screaming and crying, knowing her precious little canary was inside. They never even found the remains of the cage, and if anybody did, they had kept it secret from her. She could remember her parents sitting on the pavement, staring at the flames billowing from every opening, tears streaming down their cheeks, holding her brother against them. He had been playing with a box of matches and it didn't take long before something caught fire. Thankfully he had screamed for help when the fire started to burn hotly allowing his parents to get them both to safety but after the last wisp of smoke had blown away in the wind, they had nothing. Everything had been reduced to black ashes. The car her father had worked so hard to afford was a blackened hulk of buckled metal, sitting amidst the remains of what had been part of the upper storey. Her doll.....

She heard the fire brigade and listened to the ambulances as she walked down the street to the coffee shop where Harry would pick her up once he had finished his game of squash. She sat down, ordered tea and idly paged through a magazine, wondering why Harry took so long. Slightly annoyed she glanced at her watch. He should have been here more than half an hour ago. She remembered the fire and shrugged, thinking that he may have gone there to help or be one of the rubber necks who craned to see what was happening.

"....he seemed to be alive when they ...." she heard a female voice say as two ladies stepped into the coffee shop and then a gasp followed. She looked up into the shocked faces of two women she knew offhand, staring at her with anguish.

"What...?" she started to ask and then a clamp around her chest silenced her and she sat there looking at the two women as an awful thought slammed into her mind.

"Oh God Brigitte....."

"What?" she screamed as she came upright with so much force that the little table keeled over. "What is it?"

One woman turned away with her face buried in her hands while the other stood there looking at Brigitte, moving her mouth without making a sound until Brigitte could take it no more.

"What is it?" she screamed, reaching for the woman. It seemed to rip her from her stupor and she stuttered.

"Ha.... Harry..."

"What about him?" she shouted, feeling her throat constrict.

"The fi... the fire Brigitte. He..."

She was out the door and running without waiting to hear the rest. She heard her name called but she kept on running in the direction from where she had seen the smoke. She sobbed in fear as she ran, feeling like running in a tub of syrup. As she ran she could hear people calling her but she simply ran, her fear goading her on like a hopping gargoyle until she came within sight of the blackened remains of the house. Smoke still curled into the air and from a few empty windows flames within was still visible as it tried to finish its work of destruction.

Sobbing with fear she battered her way through the onlookers trying to get to the house to save her son, fell over a fire hose and as she struggled upright arms closed around her and as if from far away she heard a man call her name.

"Harry!" she screamed as she fought the arms holding her. It cramped tighter and she bit into something while kicking to free herself.

"Brigitte! Stop it!" she heard again. "Harry is not in there!"

It took seconds for realisation to dawn and she stared stupidly at the concerned faces around her. She felt herself floating as the joyous relief washed over her and she took a few very deep breaths before she croaked; "Where is he? What happened?"

"He's at the hospital Brigitte," she heard someone call and she turned to the voice but saw only a sea of faces before her.

She clutched at her face and then dropped her arms to her side, only to repeat the movement again and again as hysteria started clawing at her mind. She felt arms encircle her and with a sigh she gave up her fight.

"What happened?" she shuddered out.

"He went in to save two children Brigitte."

"And?"

"They're safe Brigitte."

"Where is Harry?" she asked loudly as she stamped her foot. "I want to know about Harry!"

Somebody took her arm and led her to one side. Once again fear made her cringe inside as she looked up into the concerned face of the town's Fire Chief. She told herself she was about to hear what nobody ever want to hear and she steeled herself. Somewhere the fact that Harry was taken to hospital meant that he may be alive.

"Brigitte," he began softly. "Harry saved the lives of two children who were trapped in the house. They are in hospital, being treated for smoke inhalation and cuts."

"Harry?" she almost cried.

The Fire Chief took a deep breath and blew out a long sigh. "He was still inside when the room fire-balled."

"Fire-balled?"

"That is when the temperature inside makes the smoke and everything ignite spontaneously. We think he was near to the floor when it happened so most of it went over him and out the window but still...."

Her mouth fell open and she looked at him with pleading eyes. "Did he burn?" she asked softly and he nodded.

"I am not going to lie to you Brigitte. He made it to the window and we managed to pull him out but he burned badly. I spoke to someone at the hospital a few minutes ago. He is in theatre and they are working on him. They say he is fighting."

"Oh God," Brigitte wailed softly and then her legs gave way. She sat down hard and pulled the Fire Chief with her. As they gathered themselves again she put her head on her knees and reached for the Chief's hand. He winced as she squeezed her anxiety.

"Will he live Robert?" she asked in a quivering voice.

He was quiet for long seconds before he sighed. "I am not going to lie to you Brigitte. I saw the burns. If he fights, yes."

"If he doesn't?"

Robert shrugged. "Doctors can only do so much Brigitte."

"Is it that bad?"

Once again he sighed long and hard. "Fireballs are nasty. The temperature is quite high and that is bad enough. What makes them really horrible is that they are dirty Brigitte. The smoke and soot can contain awful things that simply does a lot of damage."

Brigitte struggled against him and he got up to help her to her feet. She looked around at the sea of faces before her and for a moment she felt anger. They were standing there, unhurt, while her son was fighting for his life. How unfair!

The moment passed and she turned to Robert. "Can you take me to the hospital please Robert? Harry was supposed to have picked me up and the truck may be somewhere here but I don't think I can drive now. Not safely anyway."

He led her away and in silence they drove to the hospital. There they were shown to a waiting room and after a few minutes Robert went to get them some coffee. "Has anyone told Henry yet?" he asked as he gave it to her and he saw the blank stare.

"I don't know. I don't think so. He went to an auction this morning and may still be there. I don't know."

He went to the reception desk and she watched him pick up a telephone. It seemed as if he let it ring for quite some time before he put it down and came to her.

"The auction. Where?"

"Clark Simpson's farm."

He nodded. "There is no answer at your house. Do you mind if I ask someone to go to the auction to let him know?"

"Please," she pleaded and he turned back to reception where he made two phone calls before returning.

"Michael is on his way to tell Henry."

She smiled her gratitude and leaned back into the chair. "Be honest with me, Robert. Should I prepare for the worst?"

She heard his sharp intake of breath before he spoke. "Harry is badly burnt, and I mean really badly burnt, but we were there immediately to administer specific first aid. They say he is fighting and that is probably the most important thing. Shock and the inability to fight are the killers." He dropped his head. "Sorry about that choice of words Brigitte."

She simply shrugged before turning to him. "Will he scar?"

He pursed his lips. "Definitely."

"How bad?"

Robert looked around hoping to see a doctor coming towards them but the hall was empty. He bit the bullet. "The fireball hit him mostly from behind. His shirt melted into the skin on his back but his jeans saved his legs because of the cotton content." He gave her a perplexed look and sighed again. "His neck and head took terrible burns."

"His face?"

Robert shrugged. "Not as bad as his back but it burned of course."

She was quiet for long before she turned to him. "The children?"

Robert sat looking at her, chewing his lower lip. "He saved them from a terrible death Brigitte. Had he not gone in there they would have burnt to death, experiencing the most excruciating pain imaginable long before the lack of oxygen made them lose consciousness. Few of our men survive going into a fire to save somebody and in our business it is considered the top act of bravery."

He watched her lose colour and gripped her hand. "To do what Harry did takes a very special type Brigitte. A very special type of man and a very special type of bravery. Whatever scars he may have, he may carry with pride.

She started crying softly and he held her close.

Due to the distance involved it took more than two hours before they heard Henry run into the hospital and as the two parents embraced Brigitte could at last give vent to her emotions in the safety of her husband's arms. When her crying deteriorated to sobs and then to sniffles, Henry turned to Robert.

"Thanks."

Robert nodded and walked to the reception desk, had a quick chat to the nurse and walked back, glancing at his watch. He raised his eyes at Henry. "That's almost two and a half hours in theatre," and Henry nodded distractedly.

Sitting in a small waiting room a while later they heard a call and turned to see a couple walking towards them. They looked haggard, the woman obviously very distraught. As they came up to them the woman burst into tears and fell to her knees in front of Brigitte where she grabbed at her hands and held it, wringing her fingers.

"How is your son?" she asked as tears slipped over her cheeks.

"We don't know yet," Brigitte croaked.

"He saved our children," she sobbed. Brigitte nodded and the woman almost smiled. "We will sit here with you until we know...."

Again Brigitte could only nod and watched from the corner of her eyes as the mother came to sit next to her with the father standing close enough to hold his hand on the side of her head in a gesture of comfort.

It was another hour before a doctor came walking towards them. He looked tired but summoned up a smile as he came up to them. Brigitte almost screamed her anguish but Henry's arms around her gave her the courage to stand and wait for the doctor's verdict.

He took a deep breath and looked at them all clustered around. "Mr Cliffendale is currently out of danger and in ICU." He looked at Robert and nodded in acknowledgement. "He has second to fourth degree burns over almost his entire back, neck and head with some lesser burns on his arms and chest."

Henry closed his arms around Brigitte and with a shuddering breath asked; "What are his chances?"

The doctor squinted at Henry. "It seems he inhaled very little smoke and there is no sign of burns inside his nose or throat which means his lungs are probably undamaged, so he definitely did not breathe when the fireball hit him. To be on the safe side we put him on a ventilator." He smiled. "Although his heart pumps as if he is in love."

In spite of the situation Brigitte giggled and then it turned into sobs as the doctor continued. "He is on very strong pain medication and we are keeping him in a shallow coma to prevent him moving. You have a lot to be thankful for. It could have been tragically different."

Henry nodded and asked the question that had been burning in the back of his mind. "May we see him?"

The doctor bit his lip. "As I said, he is currently out of danger but two things can change that in an instant. He can go into delayed shock and to try and prevent that I want you to stay with him. Talk to him. He may not hear it consciously but there is very strong evidence that the voice of a loved one has pulled critical patients from the brink of certain death." He shook his head. "On the other hand.... any infection he gets now will kill him. So it leaves me on a knife edge."

"If we cover ourselves and wear masks?" Brigitte asked in a faint voice and the doctor chuckled.

"You won't go in there any other way Ma'am. You will also be required to scrub all exposed skin before dressing in sterile clothing. Go and have something to eat at the cafeteria. For now I want no-one near him but should I need your help in anything, I want you close by. It may be a long night."

It was in the small hours of the morning when a nurse came hurrying out of the ICU and found them sleeping on each other's shoulder in the uncomfortable chairs.

"Ma'am? Sir?" she whispered. "Can one of you come with me immediately please?"

Brigitte sat up straight and fought back the cobwebs in her brain. "What is the matter?"

"Mr Cliffendale's heart rate has changed dramatically. He may be going into shock or something. The doctor said I must get either of you in there immediately. He is on his way."

"I must scrub...."

The nurse grabbed Brigitte's hand and pulled her into a small room, made her undress and doused her with a soapy solution before letting her get into a sterile gown. Rubber gloves were pulled over her hands and a heavy mask was tied to her face before she was ushered into the ICU.

For the first time since that morning she saw her son and she felt herself go cold. This morning he was the picture of youthful health with a bright future ahead of him. Here he was, naked on a bed with only a very thin sheet covering his legs, lying on his stomach with wires and tubes going into him just about everywhere they could find skin as a multitude of monitors were beeping away to the slow wheeze of a ventilator. His back, neck and head were a mass of red and grey burnt skin over which a layer of a pinkish jelly-like salve had been applied thickly. The nurse indicated a chair next to the bed and Brigitte sat down, feeling despair going around her throat like the hands of a murderer as she watched the nurse carefully watching a monitor. Brigitte knew what she was looking at and recognised the beep of the heartbeat. She also noted the odd beep every now and then, sometimes followed by periods of almost no beat.

The nurse nodded to her and whispered. "Speak to him ma'am. Just speak. Say anything. Your voice is what matters."

Brigitte started speaking. Halting because of the strangeness of it at first but eventually it flowed. She spoke about what had happened with the fire, telling him that the children were safe and that he should be out of hospital soon. She rambled on about anything that came to mind and at one stage even a lame joke found its way to her lips. The nurse chuckled but kept her eyes riveted to the monitors.

Brigitte had been sitting there talking away for more than half an hour when the strange heartbeat started to return to normal but nothing was going to stop her from speaking to her son. Somewhere the awful thought that it may be the last time almost made her lose her cool and cry but she kept it together. She was vaguely aware that the doctor was there but did not even look up. The desire to just touch Harry was almost too much to bear so she kept her hands locked together in her lap.

She was talking about Henry planning a new dry land for potatoes when she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into the smiling eyes of the nurse.

"If you want to rest for a while Mrs Cliffendale, you may go now. He is resting comfortably and the doctor is convinced that whatever had caused the odd heartbeat is past. His vitals are where we want them to be and they appear constant.

"And if it happens again?"

"We will call you immediately."

It still took another half an hour before she could tear herself away from the bed and stiffly walked out of the room to find Henry with his head in his hands, waiting for her. They embraced and as they walked up and down the corridor to kill time, she softly told him what Harry looked like. He simply nodded and once or twice he took deep breaths.

"Do you think he heard you?" he asked as they came to sit down again, close to the door to ICU.

She smiled at him. "His heart returned to normal after a while. Yes, I think so."

As the sky outside started turning to the pink of sunrise, the nurse came to them and looked at Henry.

"I think it may be a good time to speak to him again. He is fine but just to set him at ease."

Henry got up stiffly. "Mind if I go?"

"I was about to suggest that," she grinned and led him to the small room where he had to endure the humiliation of being soaped down while clad only in his underwear. He found a grin to share with Brigitte as he walked past her to the ICU and she gave him a small wave.

Once next to the bed he discovered just how difficult it was to speak to his son. To open up to him. To say things that just came to mind, not knowing if he heard it or will remember it. Never in his life did he say to Harry that he loved him but there, next to the bed with his only child fighting for his life did he say it for the first time. He said it softly and then, as if it tasted good, he said it louder. It became a mantra he repeated so many times that he almost could not stop it.