Were you evacuated from somewhere, to engender this prompt? Or are there just evacuations away from wildfires happening still? I was reading The Naked Lunch last night (again) and so you've got a slightly different take on the prompt today, because of the imagery left over from that :)
Evacuation When the fire-bell rang we all looked towards the windows. No-one in an office ever reacts well to the fire-alarms; it's a nuisance and it's always a drill, so there's just some sighing and a lot of ignoring them and hoping they stop after 5 or ten seconds and someone comes through cheerfully announcing that it's just a test. The fog meant that the windows were like blank grey walls. There was nothing to see at all, and it didn't look like the kind of weather we wanted to go and stand around in, so we all carried on working. "On your feet, on your feet!" That did elicit sighs and a small amount of grumbling. James was far too cheerful and he was wearing his bright orange fire-warden's jacket, a sleeveless nylon thing intended to make him violently visible to the rest of us. He waved his arms over his head, as though that would somehow help. "This is not a drill! I've checked with Sandra--" everyone groaned at that point -- "and she says she knows nothing about it. So everyone evacuate please. Leave your stuff behind, you mustn't carry it with you. If you block the fire escape and people burn to death there will be vengeful spirits haunting you for the rest of your life, and one of them will probably be me." James is the kind of guy who'll talk to you from the next cubicle in the bathrooms, so the idea of him hanging around as a ghost and trying to haunt you when you're on the toilet, or on a date, was pretty terrifying. We trooped down the fire escape stairs; plain concrete (fire regulations disallow carpet as it can burn and could prevent the use of the fire escape) in a narrow stairwell with slit windows. There were already people from other floors of the building in there, and James stood at the door trying to squeeze into the flow. Eventually we spilled out onto the patio down below. The fog was like walls so that no matter how many people had evacuated already, I could see five and maybe a sixth if I squinted hard enough. I wasn't sure we'd had fog as thick as this since I was a kid. The air felt slightly cold, but that was probably due to all the water in it, and there was a thin, empty smell to it, like I was sniffing the inside of a freshly washed plastic box. Not exactly a smell, but still something I couldn't quite put my finger on. "Where is this?" asked Judith, appearing at my elbow. I remembered that she'd only been here three months and this would have been her first evacuation. "The crematorium patio," I said, wondering if that explained the smell. "The what?" She looked at me wide-eyed as though I'd told her my mother was a llama. "The ground floor of our building is a crematorium," I said. "They've got a patio at the back, and that's the evacuation area." "What, for parties... I suppose I mean wakes?" Judith sound confused, and I knew the explanation wasn't going to help. "No," I said. "There are some crematoria out here. You can have an open-air cremation." Judith stared for a moment and then shook her head, auburn hair swishing over her shoulders. "No," she said. "You're taking the piss. I can see the barbecue grills." She pointed, and the fog chose that moment to swirl and thin and reveal a large black barbecue set-up. "Cremation oven," I said. "Go and look." Her faint scream of realisation was covered up by the announcement that the fire alarm was, in fact, a false alarm, and we could all go back inside now.
2 comments:
Were you evacuated from somewhere, to engender this prompt? Or are there just evacuations away from wildfires happening still?
I was reading The Naked Lunch last night (again) and so you've got a slightly different take on the prompt today, because of the imagery left over from that :)
Evacuation
When the fire-bell rang we all looked towards the windows. No-one in an office ever reacts well to the fire-alarms; it's a nuisance and it's always a drill, so there's just some sighing and a lot of ignoring them and hoping they stop after 5 or ten seconds and someone comes through cheerfully announcing that it's just a test.
The fog meant that the windows were like blank grey walls. There was nothing to see at all, and it didn't look like the kind of weather we wanted to go and stand around in, so we all carried on working.
"On your feet, on your feet!"
That did elicit sighs and a small amount of grumbling. James was far too cheerful and he was wearing his bright orange fire-warden's jacket, a sleeveless nylon thing intended to make him violently visible to the rest of us. He waved his arms over his head, as though that would somehow help.
"This is not a drill! I've checked with Sandra--" everyone groaned at that point -- "and she says she knows nothing about it. So everyone evacuate please. Leave your stuff behind, you mustn't carry it with you. If you block the fire escape and people burn to death there will be vengeful spirits haunting you for the rest of your life, and one of them will probably be me."
James is the kind of guy who'll talk to you from the next cubicle in the bathrooms, so the idea of him hanging around as a ghost and trying to haunt you when you're on the toilet, or on a date, was pretty terrifying.
We trooped down the fire escape stairs; plain concrete (fire regulations disallow carpet as it can burn and could prevent the use of the fire escape) in a narrow stairwell with slit windows. There were already people from other floors of the building in there, and James stood at the door trying to squeeze into the flow. Eventually we spilled out onto the patio down below.
The fog was like walls so that no matter how many people had evacuated already, I could see five and maybe a sixth if I squinted hard enough. I wasn't sure we'd had fog as thick as this since I was a kid. The air felt slightly cold, but that was probably due to all the water in it, and there was a thin, empty smell to it, like I was sniffing the inside of a freshly washed plastic box. Not exactly a smell, but still something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
"Where is this?" asked Judith, appearing at my elbow. I remembered that she'd only been here three months and this would have been her first evacuation.
"The crematorium patio," I said, wondering if that explained the smell.
"The what?" She looked at me wide-eyed as though I'd told her my mother was a llama.
"The ground floor of our building is a crematorium," I said. "They've got a patio at the back, and that's the evacuation area."
"What, for parties... I suppose I mean wakes?" Judith sound confused, and I knew the explanation wasn't going to help.
"No," I said. "There are some crematoria out here. You can have an open-air cremation."
Judith stared for a moment and then shook her head, auburn hair swishing over her shoulders. "No," she said. "You're taking the piss. I can see the barbecue grills." She pointed, and the fog chose that moment to swirl and thin and reveal a large black barbecue set-up.
"Cremation oven," I said. "Go and look."
Her faint scream of realisation was covered up by the announcement that the fire alarm was, in fact, a false alarm, and we could all go back inside now.
Greg - new wildfires in the area that required evacuation alerts and notices. Under control now, but it got pretty interesting for a little while.
Hah, this is fantastic. I am grateful you were thusly inspired :)
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