Page 108 of Courage, Dear Heart
Jamie coughs—his eyes are wide, reflecting the orange glow of flames somewhere behind the smoke. They meet mine, brimming with fear. And trust. Trust that I’ll be his shield, his guiding star out of this nightmare.
“Up, baby, we have to get up.” Adrenaline surges through my veins, lending me strength as I haul us back to our feet, my arms shaking but unyielding. The sharp pain of Daisy’s claws cutting into my flesh tells me she’s still holding on.
The heat builds around us in a suffocating blanket that threatens to smother our escape. But I don’t allow myself to feel it, focusing only on the grip I have on Jamie’s hand, on the knowledge that we are together, that as long as I draw breath, I will fight for us. We take the steps, fast but careful. The last thing I need is for us to tumble down the stairs and break a limb. The light from the streetlamps outside throws shapes onto the walls, guiding us to the door.
“Almost there, Jamie.”
The steps loom ahead and seem to extend forever like a nightmarish, endless escalator going backward. We’re rushing and moving in slow motion.
It gets hotter with each step we take down. Sweat coats my face and clings to my skin. Our breaths come in short, desperate gasps, fighting through the smothering heat that seems intent on claiming us. The roar of things breaking and crashing comes from the other side of the wall. My grip on Jamie tightens, a silent vow that I won’t let go, that nothing will tear him from me.
We hit the landing and I fight with the latches at the door, thankful they don’t require a key to be opened from the inside. My hand is sleek with sweat and slips. I refuse to let go of Jamie. Wipe my hand on my pajama pants and try again. “Come on!”
One latch open.
Then two.
And three. The click of the last latch is the most beautiful sound.
I step back and yank the door open. We burst outside, fresh, cooler air sending shivers over my clammy skin.
I get as far away from the building as my legs allow. We make it to the curb before I fall to my knees and clutch Jamie to my chest. We’re both overcome with coughs as we breathe in clean air in what seems like days and months, but in reality was a few minutes. Daisy flaps her wings and does a short flight to the ground. Her small form sags as she touches her beak to the pavement and sighs. Her eyes closed.
I pull away from Jamie and search for injuries, touching his face, hair, arms. “Are you okay?”
He nods between coughs. It is then that I see what he’s clutching to his chest. What he ran back into his bedroom to get. CJ’s book.
My hands clench around Jamie’s shoulders, pulling him close against the tremors that quake through my body, every muscle tensing and twitching from fear and relief that we made it out. We’re safe. And then I burst into tears. Uncontrollable sobs hack my body as I hold Jamie to me, and he holds me back and his sobs join mine.
“Shh, baby, we’re safe now. You saved us, Jamie. You got us out.” But my words feel hollow as I watch our home and livelihood go up in flames. People are coming around now. Sirens ring in the distance. Voices, footsteps running, cars stopping and beeping.
Someone comes to us. Puts their arms around Jamie and me. “Let’s move you. You’re too close to the fire.”
I point at Daisy.
“I got the bird,” someone else says.
And then we’re moving. Me holding Jamie and someone half-carrying me.
Everything after that is a blur. We’re in the back of an ambulance. Oxygen masks on our faces as paramedics check on us and ask questions. I answer the best I can.
“No, no one else was in the building. Only me, my son, and Daisy.”
“Who’s Daisy?”
“Our parrot. Where is she? She came down with us.”
“Right here, ma’am. Your bird is fine, getting a little fresh air.”
I turn to see who’s speaking and find a woman holding Daisy with one hand and an oxygen mask with the other,with Daisy’s head resting inside it. The little yellow feathers on her head flutter.
“Th-thank you.” My voice is hoarse and my throat hurts.
“Anyone we can call for you, ma’am?”
I fight to focus on what he’s saying. Not my parents. Not yet. Nothing they can do from six hundred miles away. Elliott? The memory of what I overheard Elliott’s father telling him rushes to the surface. It chills me to my core. Sheila. My best friend. My rock. “Yes, please. My friend, Sheila. I don’t have my phone.”
“Do you know her number?”
