Hazel in the Demon's Den

When Hazel woke up, the world was on fire. Smoke filled her nostrils and she immediately dropped to the ground. Billy had told her about how smoke rises a long time ago. The safest thing to do was to be as close to the floor as possible.

She pulled her pajama shirt over her nose, wishing she could do the same to her burning eyes but she needed to see where she was going. Her vision was limited because of the smoke but it was better than going in blind.

Billy. Where was he? Was the fire only in the girls' wing or had it spread? She wanted to call out to him but even if she could speak there was no way he could hear her from all the way over here.

Wails sounded from all around her but Hazel couldn't see anyone else. Were they trapped? Was anyone going to make it out? Would she?

She began to cough despite the minimal protection offered by her shirt. She was going to die here. She would never see Billy again or get to go on those trips he promised her or get those art supplies or go to the library together.

No! She couldn't give into despair. As much as she wanted to curl up into a ball and let death claim her she had to keep fighting. She had something to live for!

It was entirely possible she was hallucinating but she could have sworn a raspy voice was calling her name as she crawled around a corner.

"Hazel? Hazel! If you're here, please make some sort of noise so I know it's you."

She wasn't sure who was speaking but the desperation in their tone was unmistakable. Nobody else cared about what happened to her but Billy. Was he really here?

Hazel looked around frantically. There had to be something she could use. She scrambled forward a bit and bumped her head on something solid. A medicine cart! The nurses pushed these around to administer everybody's pills.

She hauled herself up onto her knees and began dropping everything she could off the cart, making quite a racket. She didn't stop until a pair of arms wrapped around her.

"I found you. Thank goodness," Billy coughed in relief. "Climb on my back; I know the way out."

He was crawling on all fours like she had been. Carrying another person like that had to put a lot of pressure on his knees. She wanted to protest but couldn't so she meekly climbed on his back and wrapped her arms around his torso, trying to be as small and light as possible.

By the time Hazel finally got a gulp of fresh air she felt like she had been trapped in the smoke for hours. She rolled off of his back and they both dissolved into a fit of hacking coughs.

The fire continued to consume the entire mental ward, growing higher and higher. They shouldn't be this close to the building. They needed to move. But Billy was completely out of strength from carrying her.

She needed to find help. Hazel quickly gave his limp hand a squeeze, ignoring his feeble pleas not to leave. There had to be firefighters coming, right?

Forcing herself to her feet, she stumbled around until she found a woman jogging a few blocks away in the early morning light. She still couldn't speak but tugged on the woman's arm and pointed in the direction of the billowing black cloud of smoke.

Horrified, the woman dialed 911 and tried to get Hazel to safety. She tugged harder. No. They had to go back for Billy.

The woman could see that wherever she was being led was important to this silent, sooty child so she followed reluctantly.

"I don't see anything but the burning building, sweetie," the woman said sympathetically when they arrived in the clearing where Hazel had left him.

No. This was impossible. Where was he? He was right here! The smoke grew thicker and she tried desperately to go back down to the grassy area and find him but it was completely covered.

The woman had to restrain her as Hazel struggled harder than she would have if her own life had been in danger. A horrified scream ripped painfully through her throat, which was already sore due to smoke inhalation.

"Billy!"

===

Hazel didn't know anything the doctors in the other hospital in town were trying to ask her. No, she didn't know her last name. She had been four years old when she was locked up. What four-year-old remembers their last name?

Her mother had told her she would learn to write it in kindergarten. All she knew was that it started with D. She told the doctors so even though her throat felt like it was being stabbed with every word she spoke.

Based on the fact that she was the only patient from the mental ward named Hazel, they were able to track down her uncle. He had been astounded that she could speak.

"Since when can you talk?"

"Since today," she said bitterly.

Her uncle was willing to take her back now but at such a horrible cost. She didn't know whether Billy was alive or dead. He hadn't been able to move when she left him. It was entirely possible the fire got him.

Hazel begged every nurse or doctor that spoke with her to tell her if a boy named Billy had come in because of the fire but no one had seen him. He had vanished into thin air.

Over the next few weeks she heard the full story of what happened from hiding behind the couch to eavesdrop on the evening news her uncle watched on TV. The hospital had burned down because someone had poured an entire bottle of rubbing alcohol from a supply closet all over a patient's room and lit a match.

Four bodies were found, all belonging to members of the staff. None of the patients suffered serious damage, though some second degree burns were still being treated.

No news of Billy. He had to have made it out. Otherwise they would have found a body, right? Hazel had to believe that.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she leaned her head against the back of the couch. He had promised he would find her if they ever got separated. He had never broken a promise before. She trusted him. Billy would come back for her.

In the meantime, she had to take advantage of the chance she had been given to learn and go to school like anyone else. It was the least she could do after all he had taught her. Hazel would have an awful lot to tell him when they met again.