Ken McClure - Pandora's Helix

Neef grabbed one of the articles from the clothes horse and wet it with water from the jug Mrs Little had been using to fill her steam iron from. He pressed the wet cloth to his face and crawled across to the living room door. It was ablaze but he pushed what was left of it shut in an attempt to keep the flames at bay a little longer. He could see that Mrs Little was now deeply in shock. Her eyes were wide open but she wasn’t seeing anything. She lay on the floor, shaking from head to foot, biting a corner of her sweater which she had pulled up to put in her mouth.

“It’s going to be all right,” said Neef. “The fire brigade will be on their way. We just have to hang on a little while longer.”

He looked up at the window, unsure whether or not to break it. He had visions of suddenly creating a flu for the fire to race out through, engulfing them in flames. He’d wait another few moments, if they had that long.

The heat was becoming unbearable and the air they found at floor level was scorching their lungs. Somewhere above the noise of the conflagration he thought he could hear the sound of sirens. “Please God!” he prayed.

Despite the fact that the flat was full of fumes, Neef could smell burning hair and skin. He looked at Mrs Little and saw that her hair was smoking. He would have to break the window. They only had seconds before they would become part of the holocaust. As he prepared to stand up and break the glass he noticed the flower vases sitting at either end of the fireplace. Their contents had succumbed to the heat but it was what they were sitting in that interested him. Neef crawled across the floor on his stomach and put his hand into the first vase. His fingers touched water! He dragged both vases over to the window and emptied most of the contents of the first one over Mrs Little’s head. He then dowsed himself and took a swig of the water. In the circumstances, it was cool and delicious.

The sirens were now very loud and he could hear something scrape against the wall of the building outside. Help was coming. Neef knew that the next few seconds were going to be crucial if they were to survive. The firemen, coming up the ladder outside, would break the window. He and Mrs Little would be at risk from both flying glass and the possible creation of a fire storm rushing through the room to meet the up-draught. He considered trying to stand up and show himself to the fire-fighters but he might not be immediately visible and consequently get the full force of the breaking glass in his face followed by possible immolation as the flames engulfed him. He opted instead to remain close to the floor with Mrs Little. As a last resort, he crawled over to the clothes horse and pulled it over on its side. He gathered as much clothing as he could and used it to cover all the exposed areas of Mrs Little’s and his own body as they huddled on the floor. A brief impression of a dark shadow through the smoke and fumes told Neef that someone was outside the window. He closed his eyes and shielded as much of Mrs Little as he could.

The window shattered and a sudden draught of searing heat almost dragged the last breath from his body as it swept out through the window. He struggled to his feet as water came cascading into the room. He had to press himself against the wall at the side of the window frame to avoid being hit by the force of the jet. If it struck him the chances were he would be thrown clear across the room and probably through the blazing door out into the hall. As the jet from the hose moved slowly towards the other side of the room, Neef moved across the window frame and caught the attention of the fireman outside on the ladder. There was a gap of some two metres between the ladder platform and the wall of the building. This had been forced by the metal window frame of the flat buckling outwards when the glass had been smashed. Neef could see that this was going to be a problem; there was no way the ladder could move in closer.

“How many?” yelled the fireman.

“Two of us.”

“Are you together?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to have to get cutting equipment to get nearer,” shouted the man through cupped hands. He pointed to the tangled window frame.

“No time!” shouted Neef in reply.

The fireman and Neef both looked at the gap between the building and the ladder. It was not an encouraging sight.

“I’ll get the woman,” cried Neef. “She’s not heavy.”

Neef disappeared briefly back inside the blazing room and reappeared with Mrs Little at the window. He prepared to pass her over to the fireman. At first there didn’t seem to be a problem. Neef could support Mrs Little, who was still in shock, quite easily. He was holding her with one arm and leaning out to bridge the gap when she suddenly came to her senses and all at once realised where she was. She screamed when she looked down and saw that there was nothing beneath her feet. She began kicking and struggling, suddenly and dramatically increasing the burden on Neef’s arm.

“It’s okay, I’ve got her,” yelled the fireman as he leaned out as far as he could and caught hold of the writhing woman. “Let go of her!”

Neef let go and Mrs Little appeared to pass safely into the fireman’s care. At the last moment however, she kicked out hysterically with both legs and broke free of his grip. She slipped from his grasp and for a moment hung suspended from her skirt which the fireman to his credit had managed to grab a handful of. There was an agonising moment when it seemed the situation might be saved before the material suddenly gave way and Mrs Little spiralled down to her death.

“Jesus Christ!” yelled the fireman, putting a hand to his visor, as he looked down at the spread-eagled body below. He looked across at Neef, his face contorted with anguish and remorse in the firelight. “Was that your...?”

“No,” cried Neef above the noise of the fire. “And it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could do!” He watched as the fireman took a few moments to compose himself then quickly the man was back on top of his job.

“Think you can make it?” he shouted to Neef.

“Yes,” replied Neef, knowing that he had no option. He hoisted himself up into the gap left by the window frame and felt his senses reel as he looked down. His eyes sought desperately for reference points.

“Take your time,” yelled the fireman. “Prepare yourself!”

Just as Neef had worked up the courage to jump, an old sofa in the room behind him exploded and a great cloud of black smoke engulfed him, burning his eyes and throat with toxic fumes. He steeled himself to remain motionless, trying not to breathe until the air had cleared. When he found he could breathe again he slowly opened his eyes and blinked several times to clear them of tears.

“Are you OK?” shouted the fireman.

“Yes,” replied Neef. “I’m coming across.”

This time, as he prepared to jump, the ladder suddenly swung away from him, increasing the gap by yet another half a metre.

“Just the wind!” yelled the fireman. “It’ll come back.”

Neef’s nerves would not take any more. He watched the ladder swing gently back and then launched himself across the gap. He landed with both feet firmly on the ladder platform and the fireman’s arms around him. He stood there for a long moment in a bear hug with the fireman.

“Does this mean we’re engaged?” asked the fireman.

“I just can’t begin to thank you enough,” gasped Neef.

“No need,” said the fireman. “Think you can make it down on your own?”

“Yes,” replied Neef. He started out on a descent that seemed to take for ever.

When he reached the ground and turned to look at the jumble of hoses, vehicles and flashing blue lights circled there, he felt totally disorientated until ambulance personnel reached him. “Any injuries sir?”