and flirtations, the eyes of a man.
I nodded at him and took my designated spot a few feet away.
"Chuck," Jeff said, "we're going to lift this thing off you. I can't guarantee it won't hurt, but you know how this goes."
"I know how this goes," my grandfather agreed, wincing as he prepared himself.
I squatted again, this time reaching under my grandfather's armpits, ready to move him when the weight was lifted.
Jeff rolled his shoulders, moved to the end of the beam, and braced himself against it, one knee forward, the other leg extended back. He blew out three quick breaths in succession.
"One . . . two . . . three!" he said. He pushed the top of the beam upward, levering it just enough to lift the weight from my grandfather's abdomen. I dragged him away, his feet clearing the beam's path just as Jeff let it drop again.
My grandfather blinked. "That did hurt," he said.
And then his eyes closed, sending my heart racing again. "Jeff, we have to get him out of here," I said, but the last of my sentence was muted by a crash above us that sent a bevy of sparks over us . . . and covered the gap we'd used to get into the basement with flaming drywall.
"On it," Jeff said. He scooped my grandfather up and headed toward the back of the basement.
"Where are you going?"
"Back bedroom. Emergency window."
I hadn't even remembered there was a bedroom back there, much less a window.
"Right behind you," I said, listening for his footsteps in front of me, as I certainly couldn't see anything. I covered my mouth with a hand, smoke from the fire upstairs beginning to funnel down through the cracks in the ceiling.
Jeff moved swiftly through the serpentine basement hallway, around corners and into a small back room where, I now remembered, my grandmother had kept our Christmas presents before they were wrapped. My sister and I had dug through the closet on occasion, trying to figure out which one of us got the Lite Brite and the doll that wet itself.
But those presents were long gone. Instead, we fixed our sights on the small window that was about to become our escape route.
"Open it," Jeff directed, and I pulled a stool over to the window and unlatched the window frames, which opened into a window well.
"Get out," Jeff said. "I'll help boost your grandfather up."
I nodded, pushed myself up to the sill, and climbed outside, gulping in the first fresh air I'd had in minutes, then kicking away snow and debris to help our egress.
"Ready," Jeff said, maneuvering my grandfather's shoulders through the windows. I grabbed his torso again and pulled until I could cradle him in the window well.
"Let me help," said a voice above me.
I looked up to see a Chicago Fire Department member in a fire suit and hat on his knees at the edge of the window well.
As Jeff climbed safely from the fire and paramedics strapped my grandfather to a gurney, I said a silent thank-you to the universe.
-
The house was surrounded by vehicles - fire trucks, police interceptors, two ambulances. Their blue, red, and white lights shined across the yard, which was full of debris thrown out by the explosion.
I found my sword and cleaned away the smoke and ash, giving the EMTs room to work while they stabilized my grandfather, but I moved closer when they loaded the gurney into the back of the ambulance.
Tears welled in my eyes at the sight, and my throat constricted so tightly, I wasn't sure if I could breathe.
One of the EMTs stayed by his side; the other climbed out of the ambulance and shut the door.
"You're his granddaughter?"
I nodded.
"He's unconscious but stable," said the EMT, whose name badge read ERICK. "We'll take him to Southwestern Memorial," he said. "You wanna follow us in your car?"
"We'll get there," Jeff said, stepping beside me. He had a bandage on his head and another around his arm.
"You're hurt?" I asked, feeling suddenly numb and disconnected to the world. The adrenaline was wearing off, and fear and shock and pain were beginning to seep in.
"I'm fine. The guys said you were okay, too?"
I nodded. "Vampire healing. My lungs are sore, and I've got some minor burns, but they'll heal." I glanced down at my leathers, which were probably toast. They were pockmarked with holes from flying cinders and sparks.
"I ruined my clothes," I said, laughing. I sounded hysterical, even to me.