Five Minute Fire

*Trigger Warning: Please note this story contains themes of child abuse, arson, crime, some curse words and kidnapping that may be disturbing to some readers. Please be advised before reading*

Sonora’s hands shook violently as she held the gas can, nozzle down, shaking and pouring splatters of gasoline. Stealthily walking hunched over in a slight crouch, as she surrounded three fourths of the perimeter of the house, dousing with precision until gas saturated the straw colored, withered winter grass. She was about to set fire to the neighbors house. And she only had a small window of time to do it. With intention, she created an incomplete circle, leaving a gas free gap so she would still have access to the front porch. Grateful for the ski mask covering her face, she dared to take a few sips of air that reeked the heavy odor of gas. She checked her watch, which told her it had taken less than a minute. Thirty seconds to be exact. Perfect. Just like she’d practiced the week before. Except using a watering can and dousing the plants with a refreshing drink of h20 rather than ignition and fuel for a fire. With the flick of her wrist, the spark ignited with a small whoosh followed by a faint glow. Smoothly she released the match before hopping the fence with the grace of a teenager. Silently she crossed back into her own backyard and fervently thanked God for all the pilates and yoga she’d done over the course of the last year. Her body felt strong and prepared for this moment. This infinitesimally small moment in time that would change everything. She tucked the mask back in the box in the back of her closet, while hitting dial on her phone. She could see through the back kitchen window that the fire was starting to catch, the flame licking up at the edge of the brick house like a thirsty dog in July heat lapping at its water bowl.

“Hey girl!” said a cheery voice of her best friend Brittany as she appeared on facetime. Her brown hair was pulled up high in a messy bun and freckles dotted her adorable upturned nose. “Hi my love! What’s going on?” Sonora replied, trying to sound relaxed and casual. “Not much honestly. Just watching some hockey with John and the cats. I’m debating on whether or not I have the energy to make a batch of focaccia bread for the picnic tomorrow afternoon.” “Mmmmmmm” I drooled into the phone trying not to sound rushed, “Please do! That sounds so good!” Forty seconds of the call had already elapsed she noted before replying, “I’ve just been rewatching the last season of Bridgerton and snoozing off and on. Being a couch potato and enjoying my evening off.” “I miss your face! I can’t wait to…” Sonora cut her off with a choked scream, “Oh, my God! There’s a fire in the back yard! No, wait…it’s the neighbors house!” she said in a frightened voice, turning the camera so her friend could see her view of the orange glow, through the back window, “Brittany, call 911! Right now! I’m going to go see if I can get the hose and help!” she hollered into the phone, “No, wait…stay on the call with me! It could be dangerous, just stay put and wait for the fire department to get there!” she begged. “No time for that, B! I’m going. Just call 911 and tell them it’s the house behind mine.” The call disconnected before she had a chance to argue further, as Sonora knew she would. And under normal circumstances Sonora would probably listen and heed her warning. But there was very little time and much left to do.

With ease Sonora followed the same route, retracing her footsteps from earlier, and making her way to the front porch of the smoldering house. Without hesitating she smashed out the window of the front door, carefully reaching her hand in for the knob. She was in. Sonora knew the layout of the house. All of the houses in this neighborhood were constructed similarly, meaning it more or less mirrored her own, except in reverse. But this house had a basement and that was exactly what she was looking for. A muffled scream, echoed from the end of the kitchen behind a door. “Hello?” she called out, rushing over. Another scream and a muffled cry for help. “I knew it!” she thought to herself. Closing the gap between the living room and the kitchen in five seconds flat, she made her way over and tried the knob. Locked. Sonora reached out and unlatched the chain lever, and then another deadbolt, but there was a padlock below that. Shit, shit. Think. THINK. Pounding on the door she hollered, “Hey, can you hear me in there?” After a few agonizing moments passed, a voice cried out, “Oh, my God! Yes, please help me!” the voice pleaded, “Please, please get me out of here!” “I’m trying, but this door is locked, do you know where the key is?” Sonora questioned, desperately, knowing they only had a few moments before the house really was up in flames, and the real danger began. Already she could see the glow of the flames growing ever higher by the second. “Where is he?” the voice asked fearfully, trembling. With her ear pressed to the door Sonora assured her, “It’s okay. He’s gone. Just tell me where the key is and I can get you out!” Silence. They did not have a second to waste. The time was ticking by too quickly, already another minute had elapsed. “This…this isn’t a trap, is it? He didn’t tell you to do this did he? To…to test me?” she asked, voice trembling with pure, unadulterated fear. “No! My name is Sonora. I’m a neighbor. I saw the fire through my kitchen window and came to help. But please hurry, the house is burning. It’s not safe. We don’t have time to waste,” she said practically begging. “I’ve seen him. When he thinks I’m not watching. There’s an old coffee can on the top of the refrigerator. Behind the loaf of bread. He hides the key in there.” Frantically Sonora began to scramble. The kitchen was bare. No table, no chairs. She began climbing on the counter, but it was so cluttered with junk, it was hard to get a grip. With a wide sweep of her arm, she flung all the crap on the ground to give herself more space before clambering onto the ledge, using the side of the fridge for leverage and to keep her balance, since there was nothing to hold on to. Perching on her knees she could peer above the top of the fridge and spotted the old rusted red can of Spolger’s coffee. Snatching it and scrambling down, she impatiently peeled the lid off and rooted out the old nails, and paper clips and junk in the can, desperately trying to find the key, when finally her fingers found hold on the smooth metal, just as the front door slammed open.

Footsteps banged through the house, shaking the floor and setting her legs to tremble. “Who the hell is in my house!” a voice boomed, “Who the fuck are you?” he shouted with menace. Sonora froze, a bead of sweat rolled down the nape of her neck before disappearing down the collar of her cotton shirt and trickling down the length of her spine. Springing into action, she swiftly grabbed the taser from the waste band of her yoga pants and jammed it into the space between his ratty, long gray hair, and scraggly stinking booze, drenched beard. Right into the skin of his fat neck! She held the button until sparks flew and the jolt dropped him like a sack of rotten potatoes. Sonora took a small bit of satisfaction in watching him crumple like a paper bag. Without hesitation she jammed the key into the lock, felt the click and release and threw the door open. Before her stood a young girl. Face covered in grime. She was ghastly pale, underweight with stringy, unwashed hair and eyes a mile wide. Swiftly Sonora reached her hands out to her, but she withdrew, shrinking back a few steps. “It’s okay,” Sonora said, “But we have to go. It’s not safe here!” she coaxed, hoping to get her to move and fast. “No, no I can't. He'll find me. He’ll hurt me. He’ll hurt Momma. And Marlene. What have you done?” Grabbing the side of the girl’s cheeks gently, but firmly, she looked into her eyes, “We have to go. He can’t hurt anyone right now. See!” Sonora said, pointing to his seemingly lifeless body at their feet before continuing, “I will help you, but we have to go! Right now! The fire is spreading fast!” And as if on cue, the roar and crack of a burning branch crashed through the window, sending glass flying through the small space, as smoke began filling the room. “You don’t know me, but I need you to trust me. The fire department is on the way, the police too and now we have to go.” She allowed Sonora to put her small hand into her own and lead her past the piece of human crap on the floor, through the kitchen , through the living room, out into the yard and finally through the yard back to the safety of her house.

Gingerly, Sonora wrapped the girl in the blanket as she sat looking small on the couch. Motioning with one hand to the bottle of water and snacks on the coffee table, saying, “Those are for you,” while ringing 911 with the other, right as her watch beeped. Five minutes. “Yes, hello. My name is Sonora Watson and I live at 119 Leawood Drive. The house behind me is on fire. And a girl, she looks young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, just came out screaming for help. I don’t know who she is. I’ve never seen her before. I think she was being held hostage.” The girl eyed me carefully, shivering and sipping greedily from the water bottle. There was no telling what she had been through. The horror she had experienced in that basement. “Okay,” Sonora said calmly to the 911 operator, “I understand the fire department is a few minutes out, I just wanted to be sure the police are on their way too. She looks like she needs help, protection. Yes, I’ll wait with her until they arrive. Thank you!”

One minute to set the fire, one minute to solidify an alibi and discover the fire, one minute to break into the house, one minute to free the girl, and one minute to get the hell out of there. Five minutes. That’s all it took. She watched as black clouds of smoke rose, silhouetting the night sky, the flames making it look almost as bright as midday. Sonora knew it was risky lighting a fire this close to her own backyard, but the grass was soaked. The sprinklers were timed to turn on every evening at 8:45 pm. By now, most of her property and the grass was well saturated. She knew because she’d made sure of it. Just as she had everyday for the last 3 months. Everything went exactly as she had planned. Sonora had been patiently watching and waiting for the right time.

“Here sweetheart,” she said, offering the girl some cookies from the pantry, “Eat as much as you want. The police are on their way. Everything is going to be okay.” “You’re the woman,” the girl whispered. “Yes,” Sonora said, coming over to sit beside her on the couch. The girl flinched slightly but did not look away from her as she said, “You saw me in the window that day. In the kitchen. Why…?” she began, “Listen, we don’t have much time but here’s what I need you to do. I need you to listen and listen closely. That man over there is a monster. I don’t know exactly what he did to you, but I know it wasn’t good,” Sonora paused, taking a deep breath, changing her tone to sound deadly serious, “I didn’t save you. You punched a hole out the front window because the door knob was too hot. Then you ran into my yard screaming until I brought you into the house. I was never there.” “But, but you saved me!” she began to protest, “No, you saved yourself. You got out. You survived. It is very important you remember that. What I did was…well, that doesn’t matter. What is important is that you’re free now and he can’t hurt you. But it’s crucial you never, ever tell anyone anything else. Especially about me. Okay?” “I understand,” the girl said looking at Sonora gratefully with big brown doe eyes. “The fire?” “These things happen. I think he was trying to kill you and himself. Luckily, he collapsed so you had the chance to escape.” The young girl’s eyes shimmered, beginning to water but filled with understanding. “Thank you,” she said through tears, voice thick with emotion. Shaking her head in acknowledgement, and taking a deep breath, Sonora said, “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do anything. Well, nothing much really. I should have come sooner. You’re the one who had the courage to make the hand gesture to me and get my attention. I had suspected for some time that something wasn’t right with that house. With that disgusting man. I had to wait until the time was right. And I knew I’d only have a small window of time. Five minutes to be exact. But you are free now. And we can never speak of this again. Okay? You can tell the cops everything. Everything that horrible piece of shit did to you. Tell them everything. Everything except for me. I was never in there. Just remember that and everything will be fine. Everything will be just fine.” They shared a moment. Finally taking a deep breath, the girl sighed and spoke, “It’s insane how quickly your life can change,” she mused, suddenly sounding much, much older than she was. “I know. In just five minutes and with a fire.”