IMMOLATION: CHAPTER 48

“Don't worry,” came a gentle voice.

It was calm and familiar and Joan pulled her fire inward in an attempt to see who it was. The loud rushing of the air vents subsided with her fire and after a moment the smoke cleared. Standing in the doorway of her cell was a young man dressed in street clothes and holding some kind of electronic device in one hand.

“Hello Matt,” Joan said. She was getting better at recognizing faces.

Matt walked the rest of the way into the room and rested a steady hand on her arm. A moment later and began to lead her forward. Joan quavered with the effort to keep her fire from burning Matt.

“I'm going to burn you,” Joan warned him.

Matt hesitated mid-step. “You don't burn your clothes, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Joan said, “but they're just clothes.”

“Then treat me like you do your clothes,” Matt stated and resumed his walk, leading Joan out through the door and into the long hallway that lead to the enclosure.

Joan wasn't sure about Matt's idea but she couldn't hold her fire back much longer. Inch by inch, her fire crept over her body, sprouting first from her free hand where it would be furthest from Matt. The air around her wavered in the heat, but as always, her clothes were unharmed. Her chest caught fire and she could see Matt's eyes glancing over to it. To his credit, Matt's hand on her arm did not tighten and he maintained a steady pace towards the enclosure.

“I'm sorry they had to move you,” Matt said, still maintaining his calming tone even as Joan's fire started down her other arm. “I wanted you to be there, to be able to see our progress. I think you would have liked...”

Matt's voice trailed off into a whine as the heat from the fire began scorching his hand but he still didn't let go. There wasn't enough time for Matt to get to safety. Even if Matt ran full speed to the enclosure door he wouldn't make it in time. Tears sizzled on her cheeks as she accepted the fact that she was about to kill Matt.

“Just think of me as a piece of clothing, Joan,” Matt's voice was beginning to lose its calm nature. “I'm just sock, just a shoe. Nothing big or complicated.”

Both Joan and Matt flinched as it made contact with his skin. Blisters had already formed on the part of his hand that were nearest the fire, but as the fire swelled up his own arm no new blisters appeared. Matt sighed in relief and Joan let her fire out the rest of the way. With a woof it burst outward and Matt jumped in surprise.

“Sorry,” Joan said in response to his brief return to panic.

“No, no, you're fine,” Matt said, a little breathless. “This is amazing.”

Matt stared unblinking through the fire and over his body. It had been a long time since Joan had seen beauty in her fire. In fact, the only time she could remember actually liking her fire was back when she worked in Mike's book store, meeting Tom. Tom loved her fire. In his most recent letter, Tom had admitted that it was her fire that first caught his attention and was the reason for their first conversation.

“Mmmm,” Joan hummed, imagining that it was Tom's hand on her arm. She shut her eyes and laid her head against Matt's shoulder, again imagining it was Tom's.

Before long, Joan heard the heavy door slide shut behind them and she knew they had entered the enclosure. She sighed heavily and allowed her daydream of walking beside Tom to come to a close. Joan opened her eyes.

“Wow,” she said.

They had told Joan what was going on, why they had moved her to the cell, but she never knew exactly what to expect. An enormous dome rose from the center of the enclosure. She had expected it to look more metallic but it didn't appear to be shiny enough. High above them, there the observation deck once was, they'd built what looked like a control room. Joan could see several people milling about through the control room's safety glass. On this side of the dome was a door. At the moment it was closed.

“You'll need to stop burning for a moment,” Matt said.

It was difficult, but Joan managed it and Matt let go of her arm and moved to open the door. He took hold of the large wheel in the center of the door and turned it. Large bolts unlocked and the door began to open. At first Joan thought Matt was opening the door at an exaggerated slow pace but then she realized that the door was actually several feet thick and took a lot of effort to move.

“That's quite the door,” Joan said as her anxiety began to rise. “Does it open from the inside too?” she asked.

“I think so,” Matt said but he didn't sound very confident in his assumption.

The door finished opening and Joan stared into the darkness of the room beyond.

“In you go,” Matt said, waving her forward, “Once the door's shut you can burn again.”

Joan didn't move. She could feel her face beginning to sweat and patches of fire flared up on her body.

“Whoa,” Matt said taking a step back, “I said you can burn once the door's shut behind you. Any sooner and you might damage the machine.”

“It's dark in there,” Joan groaned.

“Your fire will brighten it up,” Matt said as he continued backing away toward the exit.

More fire spread over Joan but she held it tight to her body and finally began walking towards the doorway into the dome. Her first several steps were halting but as she reached the entrance into the dome she sped up.

Joan barely heard Matt as he called out behind her that he'd shut the door for her. Her fire was only sufficient to cast light a few feet around her. After a few more steps into the dome, the walls widened out a little. She assumed it was because she was passed the door and that she'd find the larger inner room soon. Joan was less than a few feet into the dome when her fire light illuminated the far wall.

“Wait a minute,” Joan whispered with dawning terror.

The door boomed shut and she heard the locks grind into place and Joan threw herself against it, looking for a way to open it. The door was smooth on her side. Joan flared her fire, begging that she'd missed a turn or another door or something. Hoping that she was wrong. They knew better than this. Fire warped back in on itself as it reached the edges of the room revealing a dome shaped room less than six feet across.

Screams echoed loudly within the tiny room as Joan pounded on the door with her fists. Even though Joan could feel air moving into the room, her chest and throat were constricting and she began to hyperventilate.

“PLEASE!” she shrieked, “Let me out of here, I can't breath!”

Bruises formed on her fists and yet she continued to strike the walls. She tried focusing her fire on the door, hoping to melt her way out, but the wall seemed to drink in her fire.

“Of course,” Joan said as it dawned on her, “It was never about me,” and she slumped to the floor in defeat.

*     *     *

I'm trying not to have Joan as just crazy and more crazy, but I also don't want to make her too variable. I think I may have made her too sane in this one. What do you think?