IMMOLATION: Chapter 6

Melanie's car purred down the road, at least, that's how Melanie liked to describe the new sound her car made. Those that knew Melanie but had yet to see her car thought she drove some kind of hot rod from the descriptions she gave of it. In truth, her car was an old clunker that had been on its last leg for so long now that Carl, her mechanic, had stopped asking what was wrong and instead asked how much she could afford on repairs. Melanie didn't care, she liked her car and wouldn't trade it for anything, or at least, that's what she told her friends who had seen her car.

The light ahead of her turned red and Melanie's heart sank. She let off the gas and allowed the car to slow down on its own as much as she could so she could postpone putting pressure on the brakes. Melanie prayed the light would change back to green for her and that she wouldn't have to use the brakes. She even pulled up a little on the emergency brake, though Carl had warned her about this the last time he'd seen her car. The light failed to change back to green for her and Melanie reluctantly put her foot down on the brake pedal and gritted her teeth as the loud screech of metal on metal rent the air.

Out of the corner of her eye, Melanie noticed the driver in the car next to her look her way as they both reached the crosswalk and waited for the stop light to change. In her rear view mirror she thought she saw the driver behind her talking animatedly to his passenger and pointing forward towards Melanie. Perhaps she was wrong. Either way, this was the last light she had to pass. At last the light changed and Melanie accelerated jerkily across the intersection. Another couple of blocks later and Melanie had expertly parallel parked her car and was skipping across the street toward her apartment.

The door closed behind her and Melanie, whistling now that she was home, went to grab her laptop from her room. She passed her kitchen and living room and was just beginning to shuffle through her blankets in search of her laptop when she realized there had been food cooking on the stove and her TV was on. She stopped whistling. Now that she thought about it, Melanie didn't remember leaving her room in such a mess before she left for work that morning. A last, quick search confirmed her fear; her laptop, the only thing of worth that she owned, was gone.

Melanie grabbed a baseball bat from beneath her bed and crept back along the hallway towards the living room. Whoever had come to steal her computer seemed to have overstayed their visit and Melanie was going to make sure they learned their lesson. Of course, this being the third time her apartment had been broken into Melanie thought it would have been she who would have learned to find a better hiding place for her laptop than beneath her blankets. The other two times her apartment had been broken into, the would be thieves failed to find anything worth taking and had instead satisfied themselves by just breaking things.

Melanie peeked her head into the living room. Her couch had been turned into a nest of blankets surrounded by cast off candy wrappers, soda cans and chip bags. Melanie tiptoed closer, trying to see over the back of the couch.

“Your door was unlocked again,” A voice spoke from behind her, “You should really stop doing that.”

Melanie spun, screaming and raising her baseball bat, ready to charge down whoever had spoken. Joan, standing safely behind the kitchen counter, raised an eyebrow at Melanie. Melanie lowered her weapon.

“Nice battle cry, though,” Joan teased and tossed Melanie a candy bar.

Melanie caught it without hesitation.

“I keep telling you,” Joan said as she left the safety of the kitchen behind, “With reflexes like yours you'd make an excellent fighter.”

Melanie blushed, something she seemed to do at the slightest hint of a compliment, but didn't smile.

“My baseball bat's all I need,” Melanie said, “And what are you even doing here, I thought you started your new job?”

Joan plopped back down on the couch with her newly acquired bag of chips and tore it open. Melanie saw what looked like the corner of her laptop sticking out from under a blanket.

“I did, yesterday,” Joan said.

Melanie waited but Joan seemed unlikely to elaborate without prodding.

“And?” Melanie asked.

“And today they fired me,” Joan said, again without explaining more than she had to.

“What? Why? I thought they liked you there?”

Melanie set the bat down on the coffee table and sat down beside Joan who, now that Melanie could look more closely at her, looked like she could use a good cry. Joan shrugged and stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth.

“Those are jalapeno flavored,” Melanie warned Joan too late.

Joan's eyes began to water and her face turned bright red. Joan flapped her hands at Melanie for help and hurriedly chewed and swallowed the chips.

At least she's learned to chew them now, thought Melanie.

“I still can't believe it,” Melanie laughed as she got up to grab Joan some bread. “You can burn hot enough to fire my ceramics but you can't take a little spice.”

Joan whimpered slightly as she drank some soda before accepting the bread from Melanie.

“It's not my fault,” Joan said after the pain subsided.

“What isn't your fault?” Melanie asked, “Losing your job or not being able to handle a few chips?”

Joan looked unimpressed by Melanie's ability to bring the conversation back around to that unfavorable topic. Melanie, though, really was concerned for Joan and Joan knew it. Melanie was the only person she could go to, could talk to, unless she counted that annoying nerd who kept calling for an interview. Yes, she had given him her number but the more he called the more she wished she hadn't. He kept asking her the same questions over and over. But his guess was as good as hers when it came to where her fire came from and he didn't seem to quite believe her.

Melanie poked Joan in the ribs.

“Earth to Joan,” Melanie said, waving her hand in front of Joan's face. “Come on, what happened at work, did you burn?”

Joan hung her head in defeat and nodded.

“On purpose?”

Joan vacillated back and forth for a moment before answering.

“Yes?” she said.

“Is that an answer?” Melanie asked, “Because it sounded like a question.”

Joan tossed her head back against the couch and grunted when her head was met not by cushion but by the hard wood of the frame where the cushion had been worn away.

“I burnt on purpose,” Joan said through gritted teeth as she massaged the back of her head, “But I only did it so I wouldn't lose control.”

“What were you upset about?” Melanie asked, being Joan's only real confidant she knew that, besides the huge explosions Joan went through every twelve or so days, that was the only other way they knew of that would set Joan off uncontrollably.

“I wasn't upset, that's the thing,” Joan moaned, more from this new development than from the lump on the back of her head. “I'm not supposed to have my big burn for another two days.”

“Does Judge Dervin know yet?” Melanie asked.

Joan shook her head.

“They said they'd put it down that I quit, seeing as this was my third job since being released and they didn't want to get me into any more trouble.”

“That was nice,” Melanie said, trying to look on the bright side. “But you are going to tell him, the Judge I mean?”

Joan looked doubtful.

“This is the second time, Joan, you can't deny it. You're losing control more often.”

Joan nodded and sighed, shutting her eyes against the fear that had made her come running to Melanie.

“I don't want to be locked back up, Mel,” Joan said through a tightening voice. “What if they don't let me back out?”