Читать книгу Mama! Mama! Michelle?s On Fire - Mae Waupoose - Страница 7

Chapter 2

Jim was a logging contractor. He always carried a supply of gasoline and fuel oil in his red Chevrolet pickup truck. The fuel oil was in a five-gallon can and was used for the heavy logging equipment. The gas was stored in a one-gallon can and was used primarily for chain saws. Jim assumed Michelle would use the fuel oil.

When we heard Mary scream, we both ran to the basement stairway. Michelle was standing at the bottom of the stairs on a landing. Both legs of her olive-green cotton corduroy slacks were ablaze.

I yelled, “Roll on the floor, Michelle!”

She obeyed immediately and disappeared from sight. I think I flew down the stairs because afterward, I couldn’t remember touching any of them. Her dad was right behind me. By the time we reached her, she had rolled several feet across the cement floor, over a discarded mattress, and was lying near the woodpile. I knelt down at one side of her; Jim knelt down at her other side. We had bought the kids new winter jackets. The old ones were lying on the floor until I could find time to wash them. I grabbed two and tossed one to my husband. We quickly laid the jackets across her legs. Almost immediately, the jackets burst into flames, but not before they smothered out part of the fire. We threw them aside and grabbed two more. Again, they burst into flames, but more of the fire was out.

I grabbed the last two. The results were the sane, but both of her pants legs were still burning. As my husband started ripping off the rest of her pants leg, I grabbed the only thing within reach, an old trampled-down brown paper bag. It burst into flames too, but not before it smothered out more of the fire. I glanced quickly around the room. There was nothing within reach. There was a patch, the size of a grapefruit, still burning near her ankle.

A thought flashed through my mind. I remembered when I was a young child. The little girl next door fell into a bonfire. My dad heard her scream and ran to her rescue. Later, I recalled him telling my mother, “I smothered the flames out with my bare hand.” He only had one hand. If he could do it with one hand, I could do it with two. I hooked my thumbs together and laid both hands on the flame. Finally, the last of the fire was out.

We helped her to her feet and up the stairs. My husband went back downstairs to stomp out the fire in the things that were still burning. I told Bernadine, “Take off her slacks. I’ll go get some clean sheets.” I put one sheet on the couch, laid Michelle on it. I draped the other one over the back of the couch to form a makeshift tent over her. It would help prevent dust particles from getting into her open wounds and provide a little privacy.

My husband came back upstairs. “The fire’s all out. I’m going to start the truck and get it warmed up so we can take her to the hospital.”

I had seen the numerous big blisters Michelle had. I said, “Go ahead, start the truck, but I’m calling an ambulance. You can follow it to the hospital in Oconto Falls.” I dialed 911. I looked at the clock. It was 11:45 a.m. While we waited, I tried to reassure Michelle that the ambulance would be there soon, but secretly, I had my doubts. We lived twenty miles from the nearest ambulance and twenty-five miles in the other direction from the nearest hospital. While we waited, I told fourteen-year-old Jenny to go down and make sure all the fire was out. I told Bernadine to feed the kids when the beef roast was done.

We could eat when we got back home. I tried to make Michelle as comfortable as possible. Then, all we could do was wait for the ambulance to arrive.