ARSON

Chapter 1: Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve, 1978: just outside of Chicago small flakes of snow silently drift from the sky landing on sparsely planted trees whose branches were bare except for frozen icicles, and nests built of twigs and leaves which held comfortably a family of squirrels huddling down for the winter.

Within this scenic Rockwell painting, sat a small community which etched itself just barely inside the limits of the town. Unlike the imagery created by the artist of a black lacquered carriage, it’s front lip curled outward and the lower part rolling smoothly like a rounded belly, and red metal rails attached to the bottom which sliced through the mounds of snow, being steered by a man in a top hat happily flinging his whip toward the hind-quarters of a team of horses, their hooves lifting and other landing, pulling a group of smiling people ranging from youths to middle aged, their bodies bundled heavily against the bitter cold winds, this community was not one an artist such as he would paint as a representation of the American Family living a life of glory. It was life as realistic as it can be.

Ten ivory brick buildings each three stories high and six apartment units.

The buildings themselves were in disrepair. On the outside, bulbs were burnt out, the cement between the bricks needed tuckpointing, and the roof shed shingles in the wind like a man fighting baldness and seeing more hair in his brush than on his head.

The interior was no better. Flickering lights lit the stairways; cracks were seen in the dirty-white-water-stained stucco style plastered walls. The floor fared no better nor worse, it was just another view of neglect.

Stick-on tile lost its stick and the black tarred cement poked it’s ugly face through.

The fire extinguishers were at least inspected and charged as mandated by fire inspections.

The village was constantly fielding calls from surrounding neighbors outside this little community complaining about the deterioration of the buildings. The area itself was kept as clean as possible by the residents.

Fines were paid, via the mail, and violations were ignored by invisible landlords who should have been counting their blessings vermin were not seen for that would mean evacuation of their precious monuments which produced a steady stream of income.

Lights shone brightly through two white painted, and chipped wooden framed massive double-wide windows on each floor in the front and back of the buildings. Each represented a unit which was fully occupied with not a single family, but some had two or three families crowded inside.

Ten buildings, in total—sixty units with unknown amounts of people inhabiting them.

No matter how the area was viewed by outsiders, the families were happy, not only because of it being a holy night, but because they were together facing all challenges life thrown at them.

It was indeed a special night because it was not only Christmas Eve it was also the fifteen-birthday anniversary of a young girl named Claudia Sanchez.

Claudia wore a simple white dress which was handmade by her aunts.

Her family and friends sang songs and laughter filled the air.

A handle turned on the doorway and a hush fell over the room. The door opened and in walked her father, Julio, and her brothers Oscar and Juan.

“¿Un árbol?” (A tree?)

“Si, mi amor.” (Yes, my love.)

“Oh, papá, te quiero!” (Oh papa, I love you!)

Her mother took Claudia aside as the three put up the tree. Singing began again and lights were strung upon the branches by the women.

“Tenemos una sorpresa para ti, Claudia, de parte de tu papá y mía.” (We have a surprise for you Claudia from your Papa and I.)

“Sí, madre, ¿qué pasa?” (Yes, Mother, what is it?)

Claudia was born with a challenge. She was deaf in one ear. That did not stop her love for music. In fact, at nine years old, she composed for her friend, Susan, a piano piece. Claudia was tested at school for teachers thought she could not follow the lessons. They were surprised at her results of scoring a 147 making her a Genius.

Julio turned to his wife, Estelle, and held a finger to his mouth. She understood. The announcement would be made after the tree was finished and they could tell her.

She was given a scholarship to attend college part-time as she completed high school.

Claudia hugged her father.

¿Qué pasa? (What’s up?”), he asked.

She did not answer but instead pulled her arms together tighter to squeeze him.

The tree was finished. All stood back to admire it. Heads shook in approval.

Aunt Emme entered the room from the kitchen. Behind her were her sisters, JoAnne and Tina. In her hands she carried a large birthday cake three tiers high.

It was magnificent. The frosting was pure white and had chocolate covered strawberries nestled. Thin lines of colored frosting were drawn in swooping curves downward then up. Along the edges were little twisted pats of ivory cream. No expense was spared for this moment.

A thin finger reached out toward the cake and the hand was immediately slapped down.

“No!” A single command toward Oscar; a young boy six years old.

He blushed and moved his hand back to his side.

A single candle was place on the top of the cake by Estelle and lit it.

The words filled the room and poured out through the glass panes to the silence outside…

“Cumpleaños feliz a ti, cumpleaños feliz querida Claudia, cumpleaños feliz a ti.” (“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Claudia, happy birthday to you.”)

Claudia was overwhelmed by this. Nothing she ever imagined could happen was to happen next—the announcement by her parents.

While the environment inside was festive, outside in the dark was a figure who watched from a car. It sat motionless for the time the father and brother came back with the tree until now. A disgruntled grunt filled the air.

Hand over hand, the steering wheel was turned and the car drove away.

At the end of the party, most of the people left to go home, which was not so far since they all lived in this area.

The night quieted down inside and as dishes were washed, the young went to bed. Tomorrow was to be Christmas and even though each child already knew about Santa Claus, they agreed to let Mama and Papa keep pretending.

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Meanwhile at Fire Station 1: A crew of four men: Lt. Rapheal Gonzalez: Fireman/Fire Inspector, Earl Thompson: Fireman/Driver/Engineer, Nick Cidah: Fireman/Paramedic/Part-time Teacher, and Bill Rhomen: Fireman/Army Veteran-sat in the rec room watching television and playing cards.

A comment is heard, “Hey, have you noticed the Torch hasn’t hit in a coupl'ah months?”

Cards fly at the guy, “Shut the fuck up. It’s Christmas.”

Cards fly back, “So?”

The crew shuts down for the night heading to the bunkroom.

“Lights out pretty boys,” someone says.

“Hey, check this out,” the sound comes from Earl's part of the room.

A blue flash burst like a small spark. Everyone laughs. Another blue flame. Then— “Damn it I burned my balls!”

“I guess you’re not getting a bikini wax this month,” was a response.

More laughter, until one by one they dozed off.

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“BRINNGGG, BRRRINNNG! The Hot Line rang. It’s 11:37 p.m..

The men-instantly wide awake, jumped to the edge of their beds to dress.

Nick answered the phone, began to ask a question, and was flooded over by screams over the loudspeakers posted through the station.

“No Habla Inglis, Diablo…diablo…”

Gonzales grabs the phone; all men have their gear on.

Before he could say anything the man’s voice yells again, “Fuego por todas partes” (Fire everywhere).

“Shit” said Nick.

“¿Cuál es tu dirección?” (What is your address?) Gonzalez asked.

Multiple of voices were heard on the intercom screaming.

“Seis cuarenta y uno Willow Ct” (Six-forty-one Willow Court), the voice answered frantically.

The call was dropped.

Within seconds Engine 1 was manned and rolling out the station.

Three men on the back holding the crossbar, their feet planted hard against the steel plate, and Earl, the driver who spun the steering wheel effortlessly as he had done for years on the department.

A voice was heard on the engines radio. It was Chief Trottle putting out the call for a Code M4. This was heard by neighboring towns fire departments to respond in assistance.

The Torch had struck and on all nights—

Christmas Eve.