This sound good for a first chapter?
I woke up Monday morning to the sound of my clock radio.
At least, I thought it was my clock radio.
After pounding on the snooze button several times to no effect, it occurred to
me that the alarm sounded unusually loud and unfamiliar.
Glancing at the clock, I noted the time at 4:37 am, and sat upright to
identify the noise. That’s when I caught a whiff of the smoke.
I snapped the bedside lamp on, and noticed the tint of smoke rolling in from the
hallway outside the bedroom.
A brief panic took over, but I managed to keep my cool and grab a few essential
items - my wallet, a small photo album, and a well-worn robe - before throwing
open the window and clamboring out onto the fire escape.
Unfamiliar with it’s workings, and still trying to put on my robe in my dazed
pre-morning confusion, I fumbled around looking for the release for the ladder.
Finally it fell. I climbed down to the street from the second floor, and
wandered to the front of the building in my bare feet to consider my next step.
I had this security system installed last year when the death threats for my
“eat baby chickens” ad campaign went south. They tied in the smoke alarm to
the fire department, so I have no doubt that I would see fire trucks soon.
Suddenly I thought about my elderly neighbor Mrs. Thomas. We sometimes shared
breakfast together when I had time before work, and I worried that she might
not awaken to the alarm that was only wired in my apartment.
I ran back in the front door and up the stairs to our shared landing, and was
surprised to find Mrs. Thomas there with her door open. She had a large towel
in her hands and was waving it about in the smoke that was billowing from her
apartment.
“Oh, did the smoke wake you Jack? I was cooking a turkey and left it on a bit
too long. I’m sorry.”
I stood there in my open robe and underware, trying half to comprehend why
anyone would need to cook a turkey at 4am, and half how to answer her question
politely, while a firefighter pushed past me in full gear with a battering ram,
yelling.
“Everybody out!”
I got to see the hinges on my front door splinter as they dragged us back
out to the curb.
