A Heart Among Ink and Flames

Part 12

       Marci and Camille were chatting while they walked down the book filled hallway leading back to the cafe. They had left Rem and Louis to themselves, while Sam went back to working on the slam poem.

     "What are you working on in nursing school?" Camille asked.

      "Here, I'll show you," grabbing her hand Marci showed her to the table where she had laid down a dummy body and was working to dissect it. "So you might think it's weird that I choose to dissect mannequin cadavers in a bookshop; but my apartment I'm staying in is extremely loud, plus I work better with a change of scenery, and it's even weirder to go to a coffee shop with a body where you don't know anybody." She laughed and Camille added, "that is probably true" with a smile.

      "So depending on the assignment, we usually always have to use the mannequins just so we can practice visually and not just through textbooks. We also all have our personal bodies so at Uni you can watch like two-hundred kids carrying around anatomical bodies, it's pretty sweet."

      "That is awesome! Also, does it smell a little bit like smoke to you?"

      "Maybe a little, but the bookshop always smells like something different every day; last year during Christmas it decided to get festive and it reeked of sugar cookies for a week."

      Camille laughs, "yum! How come you don't like cookies?"

      "They're too sweet," Marci wrinkles her nose in revulsion. "Anyways, back to the medic thing, this week we're working on open chest wounds and how to keep the person from losing the least amount of blood. The secret is to always apply pressure and make sure that the gauze or cover is bigger than the wound so that it doesn't get sucked in. You also want to have them tipped on their side since they could possibly be coughing up blood and it's just a good idea in case something had impacted their breathing as well. Oh and it's also super important that whomever gets injured is drinking lots of fluids, but that's pretty obvious."

      "Wow, if something ever falls on me, I want you to be my nurse."

      "I am honored," with an exaggerated bow she was about to say something until screams shattered the air outside. There's the sound of a fire hissing and crackling coming from what seems to be right next door. The window had been cracked and now it pours dark murky smoke that instantly clouds Marci's lungs and eyes. She immediately tries to break the window open, but either it's too old to properly function or it's hopelessly jammed. As their eyes start to burn, she latches on to Camille and they stumble to the door.

      Boom! All the lights blink out and in another room they can hear something shatter.

      "The hell!" Marci hears Sam say from a different room, she was about to scream "there's a fire!" but before she can a rafter off of the roof comes cascading down through the waves of books. Soon the literature is up in flames and you can see the ink leaking off the teary pages as they burn bright with golds, oranges, and reds. 

      Camille stumbles into Marci and they sprint the other way, screaming for Sam, Louis, and Remy. She hisses as an ember strikes the side of her neck and they duck when a bookshelf comes careening down behind them. They hear Sam call their names but they can barely see in front of them with the smoke creating a hazy, despondent mirage that creates rooms and sections that don't actually exist.

      Marci can feel a panic attack coming on, her breath starting to hyperventilate with the oxygen that isn't there. Camille lays a steady hand atop of hers. Marci focuses on the feel of the steady weight, the comforting hold.

      She feels another bookshelf collapse to the left of them, the ink and words spilling their stories, their papers disconnecting from their spines as their flesh burns. Marci sees the bookshop trying to right itself, desperately trying to pull it's burning pieces back together again; but the fire and smoke seems to be getting worse; she feels like the shop is crumbling, folding Camille and herself into each other.

      When she looks up, she can barely see past the unshed burning tears in her eyes that came from the smoke floating through the air. But what she can see is pure destruction. There are only two bookshelves left, and they are leaning in on each other as if they have no strength left even to support themselves. The rest of what she can see are mostly books, tipped up on their sides, crumpled, their souls ripped out of their unbound pages. Remy would cry if he saw it; if he's still alive Marci thought, a terrible smile wrought upon her stoic face. Besides her, Camille is as white as a sheet and there's ash in her beautiful auburn hair, Marci wants to wipe it away but she already has one hand gripping Camille's and she fears that removing that one hand from around her head would be like removing the safety of the gun.