Free ALLUSIVE AFTERSHOCK by Susan Griscom

behind me.
“Okay. Come on, baby.” I turned to watch him pick up the little girl and carry
her across the beam, one foot in front of the other like he’d been walking a
tightrope his whole life. The others followed.
    I stood in front of
Max, hands on my hips. “Max, it’s our turn. Let’s go.”
    “I can’t.” He propped
his elbows on his knees and sank his face into his trembling hands, while
shaking his head. I kicked his foot and he glared at me. I pressed my lips tightly
together, not sure what to say to him. He looked like a scared little girl.
    “Move over,” I said and
he scooted to the left as I plopped down beside him. “Why not?” I coughed and
he glanced back at the flames inching our way. I’d always been in awe of Max.
He knew it and always enjoyed reveling in my admiration, up until this point,
at least. I always considered him some sort of hero who never backed down from
anything. Max was wimping out.
    “The beam is too
narrow,” he said. “I can’t do it. I’m afraid of heights.”
    I blinked and felt my
eyes grow huge as I gave him my best oh-come-on-you’ve-got-to-be-kidding
expression. “You’re afraid of heights?” I tried hard to hide the sound of
incredulous disappointment from my tone but he had to be joking.
    He sat up and sighed,
keeping his eyes straight ahead as though embarrassed to look me in the eye. I
stared at him, waiting for an explanation.
    “Remember when we were
kids and we ventured into the woods on a pretend camping trip?”
    I frowned. “Sure, I
remember, but what does that have to do with this? There’s a fire about to
consume us and if we don’t …”
    “It was the bridge,” he
interrupted quickly as though, if he didn’t get out what he wanted to say, he’d
chicken out.
    “What?”
    “The bridge. When we
came to the wooden bridge, remember the wooden bridge? It was only this wide?”
He extended his hands out about two feet apart in front of him. “You ran ahead
and left me on the other side. I stepped onto the bridge and got halfway across
when one of the boards broke loose under my foot and my leg slipped through. I
hung there calling for you, but you were too far ahead. I thought I would fall
into the creek below and die. I finally managed to pull myself up and crawled
on my hands and knees the rest of the way across. I had nightmares for months,
actually years. I’ve been afraid of heights ever since.”
    “That’s why you
insisted we head home the long way that day. Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “Because, I thought you
would have laughed and called me a sissy or something worse. After that?” He
shrugged. “There was never any need to mention it afterwards, until now.”
    He peeked at me and I
nodded, understanding. “I guess I’m not the strong and confident hero guy you
thought I was.”
    “I wouldn’t have made
fun of you,” I said, unable to hide the hurt in my voice. It crushed me to know
he hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me.
    “I’m sorry, Adela. I
never wanted to hurt you. You’ve been my lifeline. I just couldn’t bring myself
to admit my fear.”
    “I wish I’d known,” I
said softly. Then suddenly, almost like a firecracker had lit from within me,
fueling me with emotion, I was on my feet in front of him and in his face. “Max,
this beam isn’t wood. It won’t break, I promise. You can do this. Look,
everyone else made it across. Please, Max. If we don’t go, we’ll end up like
roasted ducks here. You have to try or you’ll burn to death. Just follow
me—we’ll go slowly.”
    He looked up at the
flames barely twenty feet away. We were surrounded by fire, soaring toward us
on both sides of the street, consuming everything in its path. Windows burst,
creating sounds of explosions and shattering glass. Roofs rumbled as they
collapsed and sparks flew in all directions. He knew I was right.
    “I’ve always heard that
death by burning is one of the most God-awful ways to go. I suppose it would be
better to