Late Night Events

Mikey's awake and alert, a low growl rumbling from his chest. Even in the darkness and without my glasses on I can see his posture. Whatever noise or smell it is that's bothering him, it's coming through the bedroom window.

"SNAP!!!"

That's odd. Fireworks in August at one in the morning?

"POP!!!"

Yeah. Definitely fireworks. Firecrackers maybe?

"SNAP! SNAP! POP! POP!"

A lot of firecrackers. Or maybe gunshots?

Then a high piercing shriek. Even more snaps and pops. Wow, maybe it's a regular shootout.

More screams. The snaps and pops have increased in frequency to the point where you can't tell where one starts and the other ends. I know this sound.

"Fire!" And then "FIRE!!!!"

Scottland and I jump out of bed and flip open the blinds. We can't see the source but the entire southern sky is filled with a towering, roiling, flickering orange column of smoke shot through with swirling streams of red-hot cinders. It looks like a volcanic eruption. Then we hear the first fire engine.

Mikey shoots off to the living room, barking at full volume. I dash around the bed, throw on my shorts, a shirt and sandles and follow the dog. I yell at him to go back to the bedroom and he obeys. Then I unlock the deadbolt and jaunt outside to get a closer look. I don't have to go very far.

Our house is located at the intersection of Andover and 42nd Street. One block to the west is California. Two blocks to the south and along 42nd street there's a catholic church, a row of new townhomes and some single family dwellings. Along California there's a couple of businesses, some sketchy apartment complexes and one of those mixed use luxury condo buildings I'm always joking about. The luxury condo building is under construction.

The screams have stopped now and the siren from the fire engine coming from the north is much louder. I can hear other sirens now. One from the south and another from the southeast. Flames are starting to lick above the buildings between me and the source. The plume is high enough now that it's hit the prevailing winds. It's bent over and trailing to the northeast in a flat, straight line. Without the rising hot air to keep them aloft, the glowing coals have started to rain out on the houses below. Luckily for us, the winds aren't quite northerly enough and it's the blocks to our south that are getting hit.

Then a great big cramp of fear hits me and I'm shivering and shaking. "This is what the Great Seattle Fire must've looked like," I thought. "This thing looks pretty bad. Are the firefighters going to be able to get it under control? Is it going to spread?" I marvel at what an amazing thing it is that we have professional firefighters and a robust water delivery system, such that great fires like those we had in the 19th century hardly ever happen anymore. The belltower of the Catholic Church is brightly lit with orange light and I wonder if it's the church that's burning.

I see a minivan driving slowly towards me up 42nd. It stops right at the corner in front of me and the woman sitting in the front passenger seat leans out her window. "It's that HUGE new building. It's burning." She sounds almost giggly, as if she's amused.

"Wow!" I reply. "That's crazy."

She nods. "Our house was right next to it. It caught on fire. We had to leave." She still sounds like the whole thing is really funny. I realize she's hysterical.

"I'm so sorry." For a change, I really mean it and I want my voice to convey my empathy for her situation. I wonder if it was her family that was doing the screaming if the building that's burning had no one in it.

She says "Thanks" and the mini-van starts driving to the north again. The fire is still intensifying and I can hear the shouts of what I think are the fire fighters at the scene. There are even more sirens now and its getting hard to tell how many there are and where they're coming from.

An older man walks up to me. He sounds chipper and looks like he's just out for a jaunt. "Is it the church?"

"No. It's the luxury condo building under construction on California."

"Oh." And he continues to walk down the street towards the fire.

A middle aged latino guy and someone else, maybe a man or a woman, I don't remember which walks down the hill along Andover.

"Is it the bank? It looks like it's the bank."

"No. It's the luxury condo building near the bank that they were building on California. I talked to a woman that lived right next door. She said it set their house on fire."

He says something in response but I don't remember what. A scruffy looking guy walks up from the north. He sounds kind of drunk.

"The website says it's the new building they were putting up."

There's already information posted on a website about this? Information sure travels fast. I decide to walk closer to California to see if I can get a better view. I reach the alley and can see straight down it to the backdoor of the fire. There are people standing in the alley, lit up so brightly that they're simply golden shapes in darkness. I can't tell if they're firefighters or gawkers. Flames are licking into the alley and I wonder which house the people in the minivan lived in.

By this time the flames are nearly as high as the belltower of the church and the sound of the fire is simply a roar. The smoke trail shifts a bit to the north and I head back towards my house, forming a plan in my head for what I'll do if the embers start falling onto it. The folk that were standing on the street corner with me have moved on.

Then, with a whoosh the fire climaxes. A giant mushroom looking cloud boils up and this one is qualitatively different from the cloud that came before in that it is GLOWING. Not with the reflected light of the fire below but with the ruddy light of its own internal heat. I realize that the building must've collapsed. I hope the fire fighters are okay.

After this it quickly becomes clear that the fire is under control as the flames disappear and the glow quickly subsides to a sullen lining barely visible above the intervening roofs and treetops. I walk back to the house. Scottland has locked Mikey in the walk in closet. With the sounds of the fire and sirens gone at this point, I figure it's okay to let Mikey out. He quickly jumps back on the bed and lays down. I follow him.

Scottland and I talk a bit about how scared we both were. Eventually he drifts off to sleep. I'm still amped up on the rush of hormones I felt when I first watched the fire and it takes me two more hours to drift off. I wake up again at four when Mikey growls again. I can smell the smoke now. The wind must've fully turned in our direction. I wonder if people are going to be able to smell it on Scottland when he goes to work tomorrow.

The next morning I get a closer look at the fire after I finish my run. I'm amazed at how small it seems. The building really wasn't that large. There are cinders all over the ground behind it and I can't really tell where the family in the mini-van came from. The building to the north is one of those converted houses, with the front being some kind of eyewear related business. The building to the south looks like a couple of apartments. Those are the only two that look damaged. The houses across the alley look fine, other than some scorched and dried out looking trees. The car parked along the alley looks undamaged. No melted tires or blackened paint. Amazing considering how big the fire looked last night.