A Preview from INTO THE FIRE

by Kelly Hashway

Coming from Month9Books in February 2014

 

CHAPTER ONE

Cara

 

 

In one month, I’m going to die and be reborn from my own ashes. I’ll forget everything and nearly everyone I know. But I can’t worry about that right now. Jeremy needs me. And I need him to remember. Remember me.

The smoke wafts up from the basement. This is more than just Jeremy setting his pillow on fire again. It’s time. He’s going to be reborn. Mom and I rush downstairs to find him standing next to his bed, staring at his arms, already beginning to ripple with the first signs of fire. I’m not sure who’s more freaked out right now, Jeremy or me.

“We have to get him to the bathtub before he burns the whole room down with him.” Mom’s voice is calm, and she’s already leading Jeremy to the bathroom. I follow, not having a clue what to do or how to help. He steps into the tub and stares at Mom, looking like a scared toddler.

“Relax, Jeremy. The flames won’t harm you. Keep telling yourself that. There’s no pain during a rebirth, and your body will know what to do on its own. Don’t fight it.”

“Remember,” he chokes out. The word is followed by a puff of smoke. The only people he’ll remember when he’s reborn are other Phoenixes like us. Everyone else will be a stranger to him, no matter how close they once were.

“You’ll remember us. I promise.” Mom reaches for his hand, but flames rise from his fingers and palm. She grabs the shower curtain, yanking it down before it catches fire.

I bite my tongue to hold back my tears as the flames spread up Jeremy’s arms and across his chest. They dance and flicker until only his head is visible.

“I’m so proud of you, Jeremy.” Mom’s eyes fill with tears.

I’m terrified for Jeremy but jealous at the same time. He’s my little brother, but in a way, going through the rebirthing process makes him the older one now. I shudder as the flames shoot from where Jeremy’s eyes used to be. It’s like something straight out of a horror movie. My eyes close, unable to watch anymore. When I force them open again, Jeremy is gone. Nothing but a pile of ashes.

“What’s going to happen?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. He’ll be reborn. I never stopped to think about the whole rising out of the ashes part. I kind of assumed that was just a metaphorical thing, that the flames would die out and he’d still be standing there, only different somehow. But Jeremy is gone.

Mom squeezes my hand. “It will be okay. Give him time.”

My heart hammers with each passing second. Why is this taking so long? I count in my head. Forty-five seconds. Fifty. Fifty-five. The ashes stir and take shape. “Jeremy!” In moments, he’s lying in the bathtub in the same pajamas he was wearing when this began. I’m afraid to touch him. Afraid he’s not real.

Mom reaches for his hand, but he backs away. A vague recognition flashes on his face, but there’s nothing behind it. No feeling. He knows who we are, but it’s clear he doesn’t remember much else, like the fact that he loves us and we love him. “You did beautifully, honey.”

What’s so beautiful about watching my fifteen-year-old brother burst into flames, turn to a pile of ashes, and rise up out of them, reborn? I can still smell the smoke. See it in the air. Mom disabled the smoke alarms when we moved in—otherwise, we’d set them off on a regular basis. Jeremy looks around the room, disoriented. Everything is unfamiliar to him. I thought I’d feel better seeing Jeremy is okay, but I don’t think he is. Not really.

He grips the tub and finally stands. His eyes go up to the black mark on the ceiling, the only physical sign of his rebirth. The ashes are gone—a part of him again. He shuts his eyes, and I wonder if he’s reliving the experience.

“How do you feel?” That’s not really what I want to ask, but Mom’s giving me the look. The one that says, watch your tongue. Forget that I’m freaking out. I have so many questions. What does the fire feel like? Will I be aware of what’s happening while I’m being reborn, or is it really like dying and coming back to life? I wish the questions could drown out the sound of my heart breaking.

Jeremy looks at me like he doesn’t know me. Like I’m a complete stranger. “I feel fine. A little hot.”

“Let’s check your temperature to make sure everything is as it should be.” Mom grabs the thermometer from the medicine cabinet and presses it to Jeremy’s forehead. He pulls away for a second but gives in when Mom smiles at him. How can he not remember us? “Your temperature is one hundred thirty degrees,” the mechanical voice says.

“Perfectly normal.” Mom puts the thermometer away and motions for Jeremy to step out of the bathtub. He’s barely moved since he rose from his ashes. Mom’s careful not to touch him, and I can’t help wondering why. Is he sensitive to touch because of the fire? Or will he freak out having people he doesn’t really know anymore holding his hand?

My palms sweat, and I don’t know if it’s because the room is still so hot from the fire or if my temperature is rising again. I woke up with a fever yesterday. The first sign of my rebirth. My temperature was one hundred and nine degrees, nothing compared to Jeremy’s, but that’s how I know I have one month left in this life. First it’s the fever, then come the dreams. I’m not looking forward to those. After having a front row seat to Jeremy’s rebirth, I’m not sure how I’m going to handle having visions of my own.

Jeremy looks around the room, his face darkening. I reach for him, but he stares at me, expressionless. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Come on. Let’s look around your room.” Mom said he’d pick up on things pretty quickly, but we’re going to have to remind him of what he likes and dislikes, who his friends are, how much he loves us. That last one rips what’s left of my heart to shreds. How do you relearn feelings? How do I make him understand that he and I are inseparable? My friends are his friends. We share everything. We’re a year apart, but we may as well be twins. We know each other that well. Or at least we did.

He comes with me, but his eyes are jumping from one object to another. Posters of bands litter his walls. His laptop is open but in sleep mode. Dirty clothes are piled in a corner. He runs his hands over everything—books, the basketball on his desk chair, his guitar—testing how each object feels. He walks right by his iPod on his nightstand without even looking at it or the play lists he loves so much.

“Cara.” My name on Jeremy’s lips is like a knife to the heart. There’s no feeling behind it. He’s saying it like he’s trying to commit it to memory, which means Mom had to tell him my name. I was too lost in my own misery to hear her. A tear trickles from my eye, sizzling and turning to smoke before it can fall to the floor. One month. One month, and I’ll be like Jeremy. I’ll forget everything. The only positive I can cling to is knowing this ache in my chest will go away because I won’t remember this feeling.

“Mom.” My voice shakes. I feel like I’m five again because I just want my mommy.

Jeremy stares at me. “Why are you crying?” His eyes are sympathetic, but the emotion stops there.

“I—” I don’t know the words to say what I’m feeling, not that he’ll understand anyway. To him, I’m just Cara, his sister. That’s all he knows about me.

“Here.” Mom hands Jeremy the scrapbook she helped him make. Pictures of our friends with their names written under them litter the pages. His memory book. I have one, too. Mom and I started making it when I was six. “Study the names and faces. The sooner you can remember who your friends are, the sooner you can start being around people again.”

Jeremy squints at the faces staring up at him from the page. “This girl …” He points. “She has her arm around me. Is she my girlfriend?”

It’s Rachel. Jeremy’s crush of the last two years and my best friend. “No, she’s a friend.”

“She’s pretty.” That’s a good sign. He’s still attracted to her. Maybe the pictures will jog other feelings, memories even. Jeremy had hand selected each photo, filling the book with things that meant the most to him. If anything is going to remind him of his old life, it’s this.

“Do you know who this is?” I point to Nick, another mutual friend. “He gave you the posters on your walls. Do you remember? He taught you to play the guitar.”

Jeremy shakes his head. “I feel like I woke up in someone else’s life.” He throws the memory book on the bed and walks to the window, looking out. “Will they come back at all? The memories? Or do I have to relearn them and just smile and nod when my friends bring them up?” The word “friends” is laced with sarcasm.

I put my hand on his shoulder. “They’ll be your friends again. As soon as you spend time with them, you’ll see how well you get along.”

“She’s right, sweetie.” How can Mom sound so calm? Every word I say is shaky and uneven. “You’ll understand why you became friends with them in your first life, and you’ll fit in with them again.”

He looks down at my hand, and I pull it away. He doesn’t want me touching him. “If I can’t even remember my own family, how will I remember people who couldn’t have meant nearly as much to me?”

I swallow hard. Hearing him say he doesn’t remember me is like having my insides stomped on. “Do you remember anything about me? What you used to call me?”

He puts his hand to his forehead and shuts his eyes. He’s trying to force the memories to come, but they aren’t there. He punches the wall, his fist going right through it. I jump. Jeremy’s never been violent.     

Mom rushes to him. “I can heal this for you.”

“No.” He stares at his hand, holding it up in front of his face. “This I can feel. It’s the only thing I feel—other than confusion. I don’t want the pain to go away.”

Mom nods and backs away from him. Even if he broke a few bones, she can heal him later, once he doesn’t cringe at our touch anymore.

“Cara-bird,” I say. “You used to call me Cara-bird.” My God, I’m falling to pieces.

Jeremy looks at me, studies the tears running down my cheeks, and laughs. “Wow, that’s a stupid nickname. I really came up with that?”

“It’s not stupid. You were six when you started calling me that. You’d just found out we were Phoenixes. Remember? You were upset that we weren’t something tougher, like bears. So I called you Jer-bear. You loved it, and you called me Cara-bird.”

His laughter fades. “We were close?”

I nod. “Always have been.” I bite my lip to keep from losing it. Nothing short of my own rebirth can make me forget what I lost the moment Jeremy turned to ashes. Part of me died with him. I take a deep breath and walk to Jeremy’s bed. I pick up his iPod. “Maybe you should listen to some music. It might help jog your memory.” I try to place an ear bud in his ear, but he backs away. “Oh God, Jeremy, I’d never hurt you. You have to know that.”

“Cara-bird.” Hearing him say my nickname makes my insides crumble to pieces because the blank expression on his face means he doesn’t remember ever calling me that before.

“I can’t.” I turn and run up the steps. It’s too much. I can’t handle watching Jeremy suffer like this, struggle to remember who he is. The memory book, the iPod, the stories—they don’t mean anything to him. They’re only breaking his heart and mine. “I’m going to the falls,” I yell to Mom without looking back.

I need to escape. Need to get away from Jeremy—the brother I lost.

 

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