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Anomalistic Behaviour

Posted on December 6, 2006
Filed Under The Stories |

The fire went out suddenly. Like a quiet man leaving the room unobtrusively while a party attempted to reach its highest point. One moment it was lighting up the September night sky, licking at neighbouring buildings with its fiery tongues and the next moment it was gone, save for a few embers that crackled impotently against the wail of sirens and the high hum of gathered onlookers. Firemen, the police and the spectators were caught by surprise. None of those present would ever be able to agree on the exact moment when the fire went out. Sure there would be individuals and even groups who would attest to the exact second when the flames packed up and left but they would be hard pressed to find the courage to swear a statement supporting their claims. The sudden disappearance of a raging fire would go on to be the subject of a great deal of conjecture and bedtime tales but the authorities lost interest in any investigation the moment their responsibility for putting out the fire was honoured, even if it wasn’t by them.

The cause of the fire was easily traced, especially if you knew the building. The Amherst building had ceased to be as impressive as its name a long time ago. Those that dared to admit that they lived there affectionately referred it to as ‘Amy’ or ‘The Amy’. The building had fallen into disrepair mere months before it was overrun by society’s outcasts. Several unwanted children had let out their first scream behind closed doors at the Amy and several unwanted old people had died on its squeaking floorboards. After the runaways and the rejects came the peddlers and their clients and before long the abandoned haven became a rendezvous for people and activities that demanded the shadows of nighttime to survive and flourish.

The cause of the fire was easy enough to pinpoint. The building had been soaked several times over with cheap alcohol. The actual spark for the fire came from the cigarette lit by an addict named Jamie. Jamie had been using the Amy as his hideaway ever since his addiction to heroin demanded the exploration of needle access points that made it impossible for him to walk, speak or indulge in any other social activity without extreme pain. That afternoon Jamie was feeling at peace with the world because he had been able to tap out a vein without too much trouble and although his testicles ached from the slaps he had misdirected before he finally scored the vein, he was feeling pretty good. He decided that he needed to celebrate with a cigarette. The concept of food had become alien to Jamie weeks ago and his skin-stretched-over-a-skeleton appearance was very vocal testament to this fact. His cheap Bic stayed aflame long enough for him to inhale a lungful of smoke and when he hazily flicked at the cigarette with force he did not imagine being able to muster, lit embers flew off the tip of his smoke to touch up the place. Jamie died without a fight. As did an old couple named Tina and George who had taken up residence in the basement amid the rats who were the Amy’s earliest non-paying tenants. The rats left at the first scent of smoke. Tina and George didn’t fare as well.

The fire engines didn’t exactly hurry to the spot when they heard what building was ablaze. Ambulances did not bother with short cuts. But they were all around, including a couple of news vans, when the flame went out. Coincidentally, none of the television crews had their cameras trained on the building when it stopped burning.

Those around wanted to say miracle but they couldn’t rearrange their beliefs enough to imagine that a miracle would be wasted on the Amy.

One week later the city tore the burnt shell down and broke ground on the construction of a new multi-tier parking lot.

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