Pyro by Monique Polak Read Free Book Online Page A

the town center. It’s only a block or two from the town hall, where Dad works.
    The fire is on Percival Avenue, near the train tracks. As I round the corner, I remember the old clapboard house on Percival. It’s had a For Sale sign outside for as long as I can remember, and some of the downstairs windows are smashed.
    It’s after midnight, but there are a dozen or so people outside. Most are wearing pajamas or bathrobes. They’re not paying much attention to the clapboard house, not even when its roof collapses. They’re focused on the small red-brick house next door. Flames are licking at one side of it.
    â€œI sure hope the Campbells get out okay,” I hear a woman say.
    There’s only one oxygen tank left hanging on the side of the fire engine. The firefighters must have taken the others.
    Two firefighters emerge from the house, their faces covered with soot. One firefighter, Jeff’s friend Terry, is leading Mr. Campbell by the arm. The other firefighter is carrying Mrs. Campbell. The crowd cheers. They take the Campbells over to the ambulance waiting near the front of the house. The paramedics rush out and load the Campbells onto stretchers.
    â€œI think Mrs. Campbell’s passed out,” someone whispers.
    Mr. Campbell is sobbing—and pointing at the house. “What is it?” I hear a paramedic ask him.
    â€œIt’s Gabrielle. My granddaughter. She’s still inside!”
    For a moment, it’s as if the crowd is one person gasping for air.
    The other firefighters are dousing both houses with water. But the flames that were licking at the side of the Campbells’ house are making their way up to the second floor, reaching up and curling like claws around the red brick.
    â€œI’m going in to get Gabrielle!” a voice calls through the smoke.
    Mr. Campbell is sobbing and shaking his head. He’s saying he won’t leave until Gabrielle is safe.
    â€œWhere is Gabrielle? What room is she in?” someone shouts.
    Mr. Campbell has trouble finding his words.
    â€œI don’t know what he’s saying!” one of the paramedics calls out.
    Though he’s strapped to the stretcher, Mr. Campbell manages to wave his hands. “We need to give him a sedative,” I hear the paramedic say. His voice sounds panicky. Paramedics aren’t supposed to panic, are they?
    â€œNot yet.” The other paramedic sounds calmer. “Not until we know where Gabrielle is.”
    The second paramedic leans over the stretcher. He look right into Mr. Campbell’s eyes and speaks to him in a loud, clear voice. “Where’s Gabrielle?”
    Mr. Campbell coughs. His whole face has turned gray. “She’s in the den,” he sputters. “Near the kitchen.”
    The second paramedic is yelling now, repeating Mr. Campbell’s words. And his words are getting repeated throughout the crowd. “Tell Terry!” I hear someone shout. “Gabrielle’s in the den. Near the kitchen!”
    One paramedic gets into the driver’s seat. The other hops inside and slams the ambulance doors shut. The ambulance disappears into the night. More sirens. Another ambulance must be coming for Gabrielle. If the firefighters can get her out in time.
    Those of us waiting on the curb huddle close. A woman drops to her knees and prays out loud for Gabrielle. “Please, Lord…”
    â€œDo you suppose it was an electrical fire?” someone whispers.
    â€œNo way,” I say. “Can’t you smell the gasoline?”
    â€œWho would do something like this?” someone else asks.
    After that, no one speaks—or even whispers. We’re all watching the Campbells’ house. Is that Terry’s shadow moving around inside?
    A car pulls up, screeching its brakes, and then there is this awful desperate crying. Someone says it’s the Campbells’ daughter, Gabrielle’s mom. She wants to go inside the burning house, but