A Love Story

Part 1

The evenings seem to last forever in this part of the world, the sun slides endlessly along the horizon. The golden hue causing the yellow canola to glow in undulating waves to the four horizons. But, even if the sun stays to play little granddaughters still have to go to bed.

The admonition seems to fall on deaf ears as your favourite, and only, granddaughter stacks her blocks into what can only described as a grand castle while her raggedy-lamia doll stares blankly on.

Crouching down, you grab and deposit a small plastic flag on the top of a spire. The action elicits a small whine from the small girl, “Granpa! You can’t put the flag up until the princess is in the castle and the castle isn’t done!”

“You have to go to bed pumpkin, I promised your mom that I’d have you in bed at nine and if I don’t do it your grandma is going to beat me with her tail.”

“You know it!” Floats a feminine voice from the kitchen, eliciting a small giggle from the girl.

“I promise your castle will be here when you wake up tomorrow.” You smile while holding your arms out to pick her up. Her long body uncoils as you scoop her up while the tip of tail finds and locks to the tail of her doll, dangling it just above the floor. “Promise?” she asks wrapping her arms around your neck as you start trudging up the stairs to the bedroom. “I promise pumpkin, and if anyone did get through me, they’d never get though grandma, right?” The girl nodding her head in relief as you tuck her under the covers with her doll beside her.

As you turn to leave, she grabs your hand, “Can you tell me a story to help me sleep?”

“I can do that, do you want me to read you a book?”

“Can you tell me how you met grandma instead?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you since it’s not really a story for innocent little lamia girls.” You explain as you sit down on the bed beside her, back against the wall.

“Oh, Pleasepleaseplease!” she exclaims, wrapping her arms around your waist.

“Ok, ok, just don’t tell your mom I told you this” you whisper conspiratorially at the small girl. “So, a long time ago, in a city far far away...”

~~~~~

The shrill howl of the pager rips through the peace of your apartment as you scramble out of bed, body moving before you’re even awake.

/Dunkirk Fire Services, where is the location of your emergency/

/Um, hi, uh, I’d like to report a fire. It’s really bad lots of smoke/

Underwear, socks, pants.

/Can you tell me the location?/

/It’s 2202 west 3rd avenue. Oh god./

Shirt, shoes, keys

/Can you tell me what kind of building it is? Is it a house?/

/No, it’s an apartment building, ohgodthere’sstillpeopleinthereohgodIcanseetheminthewindow/

Radio, running for the car

/Can you tell me how many people are in the building?/

/Idon’tknowmaybeoneortwo, pleasehelpthem,ohgodjeezusthere’sflamefromthebasement/

Foot to the floor, weaving though morning traffic, early morning sun in your eyes.

The radio crackles, it sounds like we might have enough bodies for the trucks this time. It’s tough to find enough volunteers who actually show up. As you slide into the firehall’s parking lot you note that the Chief’s truck is already gone but your Captain, Dave, is here. Bolting for your turnout gear he’s already halfway suited up.

Over the whine of overhead doors and cranking engines he’s already yelling at you.

“Anon, nice of you to show up! Having trouble unwrapping yourself from that indian girl?”

“No sir, she lost interest after finding out that I’m working half time pushing a broom” you reply without breaking stride.

“Shit son. You’re back seat of the pumper with Megan.” He’s running for the pumper himself.

~~~~~~~

As the truck howls it’s way to the scene, you can hear the chatter of the Chief on the radio relaying what he’s seeing to the Captains. Basement is fully involved, smoke showing on all floors, multiple people unaccounted for,  dispatch is already calling second and third alarm.

You and Megan are already putting on your tanks when Dave starts giving out positions, “Anon! You and Megan are Search 1, pull a 1 3/4 and wait for ventilation, I want you in there before the attack goes in!”

“Yes sir!” Megan and you yell back though your masks.

As the truck brakes to a stop in front of the inferno you both starting piling out, grabbing hose and tools before bolting for the open door of the former apartment building. As you wait for the other crews, you notice that Megan is looking around, “What’s up?” You yell over the chaos around you.

“You hear someone yelling for help?” She yells into your ear. Nope, nothing, you shake your head in response.

The smoke is starting to thin, ventilation costs time and you don’t have it. Neither do the trapped people. Dave comes on the radio, “Search 1, you’re up!” A quick blast of water into the smoke and Megan and you crouch into the inky black.

The heat is eating it’s way through your mask causing sweat to run into your eyes. You’ve been through half the building and you haven’t found anyone. Except Megan keeps yelling that she can hear someone on this floor. Room after room and nothing. It seems that there isn’t anyone on this floor, but the last room is closed and locked. Forcing the frame, you step into a small room that’s noticeably cooler but still full of smoke. A female form is flat on the floor, not moving. It looks like she has a red blanket wrapped around her lower half, but didn’t make it out before succumbing to the smoke. Passing the tools to Megan you check her vitals and roll her over and prop her up against your knee. Arms under her armpits and wrists locked you try to lift her up... and nothing. You positively cannot lift this girl.

Panic is starting to set in. The heat locked outside the room is covering the ceiling space with the thick, black smoke through the open door. The unconscious girl refuses to budge, and within minutes you’re exhausted. Megan walks up to you, “Let me try” she says. Relinquishing your hold, she wraps her arms around the girl and effortlessly lifts the form, dragging it back towards the door. That damn blanket won’t let go and you reach down to pull it off but your hand meets solid rather than soft. It’s not quite smooth and you realise with a start that it’s entirely scale. The girl is half snake and she’s at least 20 ft long. Your fore-brain decides to ignore this realisation while you get  out of this hell. Grabbing the tools and hose you head for the door.

Megan drags the snake girl down the hall at a fast trot as flames ripple through the smoke. It’s tipping over to flashover as you spray water over Megan’s head into the smoke to cool it down, but it doesn’t seem like it’s having much effect. Megan is first out still dragging the snake girl and you’re right behind them, smoking slightly in the cool morning air.

Dave spots you and runs over as you peel your helmet and mask off, gulping down fresh air.

“How is it?” He asks while unlatching your tank off it’s harness.

“Main floor is clear, but it’s weird we can’t seem to control the temperature while we’re in there.” You reply in between gasps.

“Tell me about it, we’re pulling the attack crews out. No one has seen anything like this. The Chief ordered us to go defensive. Who’d you drag out?”

You point at the snake girl motionless on the ground, three EMS staffers kneeling around her. “That. Megan dragged her out by herself, I couldn’t budge her at all. That body’s gotta be over a thousand pounds.”

Dave glances sideways at you and starts walking toward Megan, you deciding to follow.

“Megan!” he barks, “You ok? What the hell was that?”

She stares at him confused for a few seconds, “What do you mean? I’m fine!”

A voice directed towards you stops the conversation, the EMS guys are going to load the snake girl into the ambulance and need a hand. Dave orders Megan to see rehab and change her tank while you both grunt and heave the monstrous woman into the bus.

“Where are you going to take her?” you ask one of the medics.

“General, I guess. Or a priest.” comes the reply as he jumps into the cab.  You turn back to Dave and look him in the eye, “What the living fuck?” He glances at the retreating ambulance and over to Megan sitting on the back of the pumper chugging water, “It ain’t over yet either. Lets kill this fucking fire.”

~~~~~~~~

Your turnout gear smells like shit from the smoke and sweat as you ride back to the hall, working your way through a bottle of water. It’s been six hours of hell, your ass is sucking slough water, and Megan can’t seem to sit still. She’s staring absentmindedly out the window kissing her water bottle and ringing the lid with her tongue. Dave hasn’t said a word other than to give orders since we dragged that snake girl out.

Putting the truck back in service is always a chore but Megan seems to be on fire and you get it done in half the usual time. After peeling off your gear, you wander down to the gear stands on your way to the kitchen to get a snack and you can hear Megan muttering to herself about not being able to crack her back. Not thinking much of it, you’re rooting through the fridge while Dave fills out his reports when a shriek fills the hall. Dave and you shoot a glance at each other and run for the bay.

Megan is on the floor, crouched over her knees with her head under her arms. Two tremendous bat like wings sprout from her back through her ripped shirt and spread down the length of the bay, seeming to dwarf the truck. Dave doesn’t hesitate as he kneels at her side and wraps her in her in his arms. She starts sobbing as she leans up and embraces him. You notice that her eyes are turning black while the iris’ are turning a vibrant shade of red.  Nope. Nope. Fuck this shit. You’re out. You throw up your hands in a sign of surrender before turning and running out of the hall.

You need a drink, bad. Sure, it’s only noon, but your mind is reeling. The car seems to drive itself, stopping at the pub down the road from your apartment. While being a bit of dive, the lady behind the bar is both pretty and witty and right now you need that to distract you. Except she’s not there, some punk has taken her place. “Afternoon, what can I get ya?” he asks. You squint at him while dragging a stool out and taking a seat. “Whisky”

You look slowly around, the few regulars this early are running a card game. Your drink arrives and you down it as he sets it in front of you. “Another, triple.” You mutter at him, handing the glass back.

Pretty soon your half a dozen in and your brain decides that now is a great time to start reliving the events of the day. You drag your fingers through your hair as if ripping at your scalp will dislodge the images. This shit hurts. The little voice starts in your head, (“Your battle buddy is turning into a demon monster thing, you left Dave alone with her. He’s dead now, you know. Maybe she is too. You left them to die. And you call yourself a firefighter, eh? Real fucking honourable you piece of shit. She’s gonna come for you, you know. You saw her, she can fly, who the fuck knows what else she can do. Better have an other drink, maybe it won’t hurt so much when you get ripped in two like Dave.”)

You gesture at the barkeep for another, while the voice continues, (“What is wrong with that babyfaced fuck? Some fucking wannabe hipster. Fuck. What a fucking faggot. I bet he is one. Some fucking hipster faggot who shouldn’t even be here. Like you. Ready to die yet coward?”)

You drain your drink and gesture for another. (“It’s not your fault, really. Demons aren’t really part of this world, they shouldn’t be here.”)

You squint at the refilled glass. (“Oh, you’re right of course, evil does exist. You’ve seen it, we don’t need them to help out. Remember that little girl last year? Sure you do. The one where her mom raped her with a screwdriver? She begged you to take her away. You know the police did nothing. You walked away from her. You are a fucking failure. Your crew is dead and you should be too, boyo. You should die you fuck, it’s easier. You need to rid the world of you. It’s easy. Maybe you should offer yourself up to that demon snake woman. She started all of this, she is the one who infected Megan. Maybe you can still stop this, eh? At least, the snake will kill you. Go see her.”)

The triple stares you, beckoning silently. Fuck it. One last drink. Slouching against the bar you raise your glass to the rest of patrons, “Good bye you fucks, wish me luck” and up end the glass. Best whiskey you’ve ever tasted, god damn that’s good.

Fishing your wallet out of your pants you slap it on the bar. “You’re a fucking faggot, but you can have this. There’s some money in there” you slur at the stunned barman. Everyone is staring at you as you stumble out the door.

“Hey, you gonna be alr...” the kid calls out after you. The door slams shut cutting him off as you stumble down the street. “I will be alright very soon” you mumble at the sidewalk. It’s pretty far to the hospital, the alcohol sets your feet into motion and dulls the pain. The last triple sets in and you don’t remember most of the hike, save for the sounds of cars and traffic lights.

Pretty soon you’re swaying gently before the gleaming glass and steel structure. At last, your end.
You’re smiling as you stagger through the doors and up to receptionist. “Good afternoon, I’m looking for the demon snake woman.” The receptionist leans toward you, “How do you know about that?” she hisses. Looks like you came to the right place. “I’m one of the firefighters that got her out of her burning apartment this morning,  I wanted to make sure that she’s recovering.” You congratulate yourself, a solid lie, mostly telling the truth. “We’re trying to keep it low key but they’ve moved her up to the second floor under heavy security. Stairs are over there” she quietly replies, gesturing to the stairs opposite the desk. “Talk to the nurse when you get there.” One of the perks of being a firefighter is that everyone trusts you. Sucks to be them.

Nodding at the woman, you do your best to walk in an upright fashion to the stairs, but it’s still taking two hands. By the time you get to the second floor, you have no idea how you’re going to bluff your way past this, you’re obviously drunk.

The nurse behind the desk notices you come up, but seems to be fixated on hiding behind her computer screen. You notice that her face seems to be slightly blue, but she’s probably just not feeling well. It’s for the best if you don’t bother her and figure out where snake tits is at. Glancing to the right, you note the beds crowded in the hall, staffers walking briskly. Left, empty except for two well armed cops at the end.

Ever hear the joke about how you can tell an emergency scene is safe? It’s called the yellow stripe test, if the stripe is vertical, it’s safe. If the stripe is horizontal it’s not safe. Both lines are vertical. Maybe the snake is not in the killing mood? Pulling yourself straight, you turn left and try to walk in a straight line towards the guards. At least one looks kinda familiar, “Mr. Colin, haven't seen you since that accident on 43rd, how’ve you been?” He squints slightly at you before his eyes light in recognition. “Anon. I’ve been pretty good, it’s been busy the last few days. It’s nice to have guard duty for a shift.”

“Keeping things out or in?” You perkily reply.

“Out. I assume you want to ask some questions?”

“I do in fact. She was the only one in the building at the time, so we’re looking for any information that would point toward the cause.” You point at the closed door. “I’ll make it quick.”

“Alright. She’s awake and has been taking meals, she’s built out of tough stuff considering what she got dragged out of.”

You nod and mumble your thanks as you open the door, slipping inside and closing it quietly behind you. The room is pretty dark except for a reading light beside the bed. And on, or rather filling, the bed is the snake demon herself. Her red, scaly tail drapes over the bed and onto the floor, but the blankets are wrapped tightly around the rest of her as she eyes you intently. Golden eyes so bright that they’re nearly yellow. She’s holding her blanket over her rather generous chest while the other arm props her human portion up. She seems to be sniffing you as you approach.

“You are not a healer or soldier, you smell like fire, alcohol, and desperation.” she declares flatly in a voice that fills the corners of the room.

Turning around, you grab the back of the only chair in the room, drag it up beside the bed, and sit down.

“No, I’m not. I was on the team that rescued you from your burning apartment this morning” you start.

She nods for you to continue.

“Two of my friends are dead. One was my Captain and the other was a junior firefighter that I was responsible for. She changed into a monster with red eyes and wings, and she likely ripped my Captain  to peices. I survived by running away like a coward and abandoned them. Since this all started with you and the fire this morning, I was hoping that you might be able to grant me an exchange. Can you reverse the changes in her in exchange for my soul?”

The snake’s eyes soften as the story pours out of you. A deep silence fills the room before she responds, “I’m sorry hero, but you have mistaken me for a vastly different creature than what I am. What you require is the magic of the Demon Lord herself, and I have no such magic.”

“Aren’t you a demon? Didn’t you change her in the first place?”

“Far from it. I am not a Demon, I am a Lamia. And I did not change your squire.”

“I guess I’m at a loss. If you can’t save her, can you at least kill me so I can see them again?” A hint of desperation leaking into your voice.

She shifts to lean over the edge of the bed at you and places her hand on your cheek, “It is a crime to kill a man in my world, it would be outright treachery to kill a hero. For someone like me, as a servant of the Demon Lord, my life would be instantly forfeit.”

You crumple into your seat, slipping away from her hand. Your resolve melting into the alcohol pouring through your veins. Fuck, it wasn’t supposed to go like this. “But I’m not a hero.”

Her hand finds the top of your head, her fingers dig slightly into your hair, “You risked your life to rescue me from a failed portal and begged for your squire. Even if you think that you are unworthy, it makes you a hero to me.” Her fingers tighten slightly into your scalp, “But I don’t think I’m seeing the real one, I see a farce from the spirits you’ve been drinking. Do not be afraid, things are not as you make them to be. May the power of my master grant you sleep.”

Her words are the last thing you remember as you slip into darkness.