God's Gone AWOL

[10] Xander Tries to Cook

Dense wafts of black smoke were curling up from the stovetop, torturing the smoke detector so it continued to let out it's horrible, high-pitched scream. Hazel, Frances, and Xander were all busy flailing about the kitchen, each trying to figure out what to do. In the center of a large frying pan lurked a misshapen, blackened puddle of sizzling goo. Flames danced across its surface, occasionally sending out spits of furious sparks.

"Put it out!" Frances said beneath the incessant ringing of the alarm. "Pour water on it or something—"

"You can't pour water on it! That'll only make it worse," Hazel replied.

Xander had fought many battles over the years, but none as terrifying as the one before him now. The flames of his own creation danced tauntingly within the pan, knowing that Xander had no way to extinguish them. Every time he tried to approach the bubbling mass, it would instantly spit red-hot sparks at him as though it sensed his very presence. Even though he rarely associated himself with such stories, he felt like he was some gallant knight in an old tale, facing off with a vicious dragon. —Although he wasn't feeling very gallant at the moment.

However, he quickly realized he was not, in fact, the knight at all, but rather the fair damsel in distress. A set of hurried footsteps followed Atticus into the room, and a flood of instant relief rushed over Xander. It was, perhaps, the very first time he wasn't upset by the sight of an angel, but rather quite glad to have one in his midst.

"Is everyone alright?" Atticus asked, glancing over the chaotic scene, "What happened?"

"Xander tried cook, that's what happened!" Hazel said.

"You were the one who said you were hungry!" Xander replied defensively.

Right then, another set of sparks exploded out from the pan, nearly singing Frances' clothes. Shrieking, they jumped backwards and unknowingly clung rather tightly onto Xander. Thankfully, Xander was also too preoccupied to notice.

"Stop blaming each other and figure out a way to kill it before it burns the entire house down!" Frances wailed.

"I don't know how!!!" Xander told them.

Off to the side, Bentley appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in nothing but a white collared shirt, her bare legs crossed lazily as she leaned against the wood. While everyone was busy running about, clinging to each other and shouting, both her and Atticus looked calmly at the scene. One wore a still expression of mild pity, and the other wore a bright smile of amusement. In both cases, it was quite annoying.

Without saying anything, Atticus walked over to the burning stovetop and glanced down at the burning, blackened mess. Expressionless, he reached over to the sink and plucked up a pan-lid, before carefully setting it over the flames. Then he turned off the heat and waved away the smoke. Everyone —including the wailing smoke detector— fell silent. All of them stared at Atticus with blank looks of awe, as though he had just parted the Red Sea and liberated the slaves of Egypt.

Off to the side, Bentley pressed her face into her palm and let out a soft chuckle. Atticus ignored her and turned to look at everyone else.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked.

Frances, Hazel and Xander all nodded, still shocked speechless in the wake of the mayhem.

"Xander, what were you trying to make?"

His voice was completely level, without even the slightest sliver of judgement. The question sounded extremely relaxed and casual when it should have been closer to the demands of an angry officer in a police interrogation room. Xander certainly felt as though what ever he had just created had certainly been a crime against someone. But the way Atticus asked made it seem as though there was nothing wrong at all.