15.

September first, 1956, and a homeless lady is rushed into the emergency department of a local hospital. With time being under constraint, the better option would to be to come here rather than to the nearest available women's hospital. There are difficulties, complications, this is a less than ideal way for any child to come into the world to say the least.

Within the hour a child is born, a boy, four pound seven ounces, indeed less than ideal. Over the following few days, no one comes to identify the mother's body or to claim the child. An infant has arrived, known to no one other than to those who ensure he lives and that is exactly what he does ... he lives.

Ten days of intensive care pass plus two more under supervision of hospital staff before the child is taken in legal care and it's thirty days before cremation erases all traces of an unknown lady and ensures she will go on to be unknown. Different things can be said about luck ... we make our own or if it weren't for one kind of luck then we wouldn't have any luck at all. There may be those who would agree with such thoughts as there would be those who would not agree at all.

Could it just be by chance, or would there be something more to it for this infant, as he ages, will have a fondness for all things fire related? It could never be known unless his birth mother had been cremated unless he were to be directly told of such. A particular fondness for burning flesh would become an unhealthy obsession. It would begin with the likes of gerbils and mice then progress onto larger critters.

His first adoptive family, no matter how tough it would ever get, would stick by the child. How his initial fondness for the family fire during months cold enough to call for one, would go on to forever impact his life. As early on as December of 1956, the fondness seemed to be there. While on a matt or blanket in the living room, the little fellow appeared to be stretching out towards that fire. It more often than not appeared to capture his attention.

Early January of 1964, the shed at the back of the family home burned down and as it would be discovered, the family dog had been locked inside and a young boy enjoyed every moment of grief it caused. What he took most enjoyment from was the fact that there was burning flesh within that shed. There would be no way of knowing how quickly things would escalate. In June of that year, the family home caught fire.

Foster dad awoke that morning before his wife done so. He woke in a manner which had him sure that he was dreaming, there was no dream. Black smoke had already begun making its way into their bedroom via a vent and cracks in the bedroom door. She woke because he wasted no time in waking her and right away, they made their way to that bedroom door. Smoke bellowed in the instant the door opened. Making an escape this way would be a certain no-go.

Barely able to grip on what was happening, and they already were succumbing to the smoke. Dad crawled to a bedside locker, grabbed a lamp, and sent it crashing through the window. A crowd gathered outside, and sirens sounded off in the distance. Neighbours had a hold on the foster child completely unaware that the child himself had begun the fire.

One fire fighter in particular would take notice of the boy, he took notice of how there were no tears, no shock, a complete lack of negative emotion. Two lives were lost in the fire and a boy closing in on eight years of age appeared to be completely indifferent to it.

Assessment of the boy has him placed in a different kind of care. An institution for troubled children would house the boy for the next three years in which the firefighter who had taken notice of the boy at a burning home, visited at least once a week and sometimes more often over those three years.

The visits, at first, felt as if they were being made to a prison. A large room cut in half by wall-to-wall booths. Multiple visits could occur for multiple guests during visiting hours, all supervised both by security guards and orderlies. The firefighter would have liked to have had a one-on-one conversation with the boy for that first visit but understood that this, for the time being at least, could not happen.

'Hello ... do you remember me?' he asked though the boy sat silently motionless on his side of the glass panel. The many small openings in the glass ensured that a conversation could take place or at least allowed for one to be able to hear the other.

'Tough losing parents ... isn't it?' this also would not get a reply, but it would get a reaction.

The boy looked directly at his visitor for the first time since they both came to sit either side of that partition.

'I should know ... I lost both of mine when I was around your age. I was just a little older. Already had my eight birthday. We were out driving ... well my dad was driving. It was late, had been dark for a while. We must have hit some black ice or something for out of the blue we swerved. We might have flipped a couple of times ... I don't exactly remember ... when the car stopped, we were upside down ...'

The boy appears to be interested now in what he is being told so the firefighter continues ...

'There was blood ... lots of blood. My ears were ringing, and I couldn't move. My mum and dad ... I think they were dead right away. I cried ... tried calling out to them but it was no good. I remember the flashing lights ... when they came ... red and blue. They seemed to be there really quick ... I don't know ... maybe I had been out for a bit. I heard someone talking to me ... a firefighter ... he made me a promise. He promised me he would get me out of the car, and he promised me everything would be alright. Everything wasn't alright, my mum and dad were dead ...'

A tear or two streams down the adult's face and the boy continues to listen intently.

'You know ... he took me in ... adopted me. He kept one promise ... he got me out of the car. I guess he kept both promises. Yeah, my mum and dad were dead, but I was safe ... he took care of me and because of that I wanted to be a firefighter so here I am ... he ... he is the reason why I became a firefighter, and you know ... I guess I want to pay things forward ... the fire at your home, I was there. Do you remember? ... I would like to try make things alright for you ... so what do you think? Would that be ... alright?'

The boy smiles.

'I take that as a yes. There is this cabin my dad ... my foster dad took me to. Well, he became a proper dad to me. We spent a whole summer there. I learned a heck of a lot out there ... maybe ... maybe one day, for a whole summer even ... ah heck. I am getting ahead of myself.'

An orderly calls time on the visit. The firefighter doesn't want it to end yet and to him it would also appear that the boy doesn't want it to end either.

'You know ... I could come back next week ... would you like that?'

The boy doesn't waste any time, right away he nods enthusiastically and with that the boy is gone, escourted away by an orderly ... for only the time being at least ...