Gayle Wilson - Bogeyman

“Keep your head down,” she ordered Maddie.

She moved back to the window, swinging the chair at the bottom half, the part without the wooden mullions. The first time the legs and seat hit the broad pane of glass, they bounced off.

The second time she swung the chair with all the strength she possessed. The glass cracked, and when she struck it the third time, it shattered.

She took a deep breath of the cold night air rushing in through the opening. Behind her, the fire crackled and hissed with the renewed flow of oxygen. The sound destroyed her sense of euphoria, replacing it with another burst of panic.

Using the chair and her hands, she broke out the shards that clung to the frame. Then she turned, picked Maddie up off the floor and started back to the window.

“Mama? What are you doing?”

“It’s okay,” Blythe said. “We’re going out the window. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

Against her body she felt the little girl’s nod.

Dear God, don’t let me lose her, too.

The broken window loomed before her. For a moment she couldn’t decide if she should drop onto the roof and then have Maddie jump down so she would be there to break her fall.

It took only a second to realize too many things could go wrong with that plan. She could be knocked unconscious by the fall. Maddie could refuse to jump. The fire could reach her before—

She destroyed the thought as she set Maddie on her feet. Then, putting her arms around the little girl’s torso, Blythe locked her hands around her back. She lifted her daughter and lowered her body through the open window.

The roof below looked much farther away than before. She would have to drop the little girl on the right side of the peak so that when she fell, she would roll down into the valley formed by the wall of the original house and the roof of the addition. If she dropped her on the other side, Maddie might roll off and onto the ground below.

Blythe edged nearer the right side of the window, ignoring Maddie’s sobs. One chance to save her daughter’s life. If she blew it…

She bent as far out as she could, so that her belly was pressed against the bottom of the frame. She could feel a piece of the broken glass that had clung to it slice her skin, but she ignored the pain, carefully positioning Maddie for the drop.

Blythe’s shoulders screamed for relief from the weight they held, but she ignored them, too. Instead, her left arm still around Maddie’s back, she managed to slide her right hand up until it was fastened around Maddie’s wrist. She closed her eyes, anticipating the strain on her shoulder as she held on to the small, dangling body with one hand while with the other she completed the same maneuver to grasp Maddie’s other wrist.

She thought she could feel the heat of the fire behind her. She could definitely hear it. Despite the length of the drop and the chance of injury, she had to release her daughter and let her fall.

Only chance…

“I’m coming, Maddie,” she said, pitching her voice to carry over the noise of the inferno behind her. “I’m coming. Just stay there, and I’ll jump down beside you.”

Opening her hands to let Maddie go was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life. Heart in her throat, she watched as the small body, clad in its white flannel gown, fell. The little girl rolled over twice, coming to rest in the protection of the valley, just as Blythe had planned.

She waited just long enough to see Maddie raise her head to look up at the window. The intensity of the heat behind her allowed no further hesitation.

She put one leg over the frame, turning so that she could hold onto the inside edge of its sill with her fingers. That would allow her body to extend to its full length before she let go and dropped to the roof. Through the pall of smoke in the bedroom, she could see the glow of the conflagration that was now consuming the upper hall.

Only chance…

She let go, falling hard onto the side of the peaked roofline. As she slid down into the valley between the two rooflines, she tried to slow her progress by grabbing at the shingles, scraping her hands as well as her hip.

“Mama.”

She turned to find Maddie looking up at her, her eyes wide. In the moonlight, which seemed bright as day, there were no visible injuries. Even if there were…

“We’re okay,” Blythe reassured.

She pushed onto her feet, putting one hand on the wall of the house to keep her balance as she moved toward her daughter. She tried to keep her right foot in the center of the flashing, which, compared to the roof itself, was relatively flat.

She held out her free hand. “Come on,” she ordered as she pulled the little girl to her feet.

Afraid of what she’d see, she refused to look up at the window through which they’d exited. As she moved toward the front of the addition, she listened instead for the wail of fire trucks. There was nothing but the sound of the fire, devouring the rich heart pine from which the little house had been constructed.

Please, God, let me get her down. Don’t take her away from me. I’ll do whatever you want, if you just won’t let anything happen to Maddie.

When she reached the edge of the roof, holding tightly to Maddie’s hand, she stooped to look out over it. The concrete patio that had probably been constructed at the same time as the screened porch was directly below them. There was no sign of the fire here at the very back of the house. If she could get them down, they should be safe.

But there was no drainpipe. No conveniently placed tree. Nothing.

She couldn’t remember how close the trees on the other side of the addition were. She knew there were a couple, however. And shrubbery. But they would have to go over the peak of the roof to reach them.

She shifted her grip on Maddie, so that she held her wrist rather than her hand. It would be too easy for those small fingers to slip away from her.

“Where are we going?”

“To the other side.”

Maddie shook her head, tears welling. “I’m scared, Mama.”

Me, too, baby. Me, too.

“I’ve got you. I won’t let go. It’s going to be all right, Maddie. I promise.” As she made the pledge, she started up the incline.

Although she had to bend in order to maintain her hold on Maddie’s wrist, she managed to reach the peak with relative ease, using her free hand on the shingles for balance. Only when she reached the top did she realize that the real danger would be going down. How could she ensure that she wouldn’t slip on that slanting surface, carrying Maddie with her?

She eased down so that she was sitting on the peak of the roofline. She drew Maddie to her, relishing her small, solid warmth. The little girl was trembling like someone in a chill, but the act of comforting her gave Blythe hope. And it renewed her determination. After all, they had made it this far.

She looked again at the downward slope. Although it wasn’t steep, for someone barefoot and guiding a terrified four-year-old, it would be treacherous.

“You remember when Daddy used to ride you piggyback?” Blythe leaned back, sweeping Maddie’s bangs from her eyes, as she looked into her face.

The little girl nodded.

“Think you can do that again?”

“Up here?”

“Hold on around my neck and put your legs around my back. I’m going to scoot down on my bottom.”

In the silence that followed, Blythe could hear the fire again. She had no idea how long it had been since the alarm had awakened her. It felt like an eternity, yet there were no fire engines. For the first time she realized they might not come until it was too late.

With that incentive, she brought her other leg over the peak and, still holding onto Maddie, scooted down perhaps a foot. Her nightgown rucked up under her, but there was nothing she could do about it. The shingles would abrade her buttocks and thighs, just as they had her hands.