In place of our regular column, this month the Apalachin Fire Department would like to bring you the following story.

 2:00 am: You finally turned your computer off around midnight. Dragged your exhausted self through your pre-bedtime rituals, picked up the stray socks on the stairs, set your husband's dessert dish in the sink to soak, refilled the dog's water dish. 

 Brushing your teeth seemed to take hours, though the timer on your electric brush was set for only 60 seconds; a minute during which you wondered how a 6oz appliance could feel heavy as lead. Because you were so tired, you went straight to bed rather than making that one last trip around the house to check on windows and door locks.

 You were truly beat, but when you laid your head on the pillow, instead of sweet dreams a laundry list of worries and tasks started parading through your tired brain. 

 Do the kids need anything special for tomorrow they forgot to tell me about?

 Do I have enough pasta to make the salad for the family reunion on Saturday, or must there be yet another trip to the store?

 Speaking of another trip, why didn't I put gas in the car while I was picking Billy and George up from the sitter? Now I'll have to remember to go to the gas station before work. Gas will probably be even higher tomorrow.

 You must have eventually drifted off, because the bedside clock shows 2:00 am when you wake abruptly, wondering what roused you. Is that a sound? What is that annoying noise? And what do I smell?  Did I remember to put out that scented candle that was burning in the living room?

 Smoke alarm. That's the wailing I'm hearing. Candle- did I put out the candle? Fire.

 There must be a FIRE!!!!!

 Your first reaction is to stand up out of bed, but the ghostly memory of last fall's trip to the fire station comes back to you, and you hear again the fire fighter coaching the kids to "crawl low through smoke!" You carefully roll from the bed, safely in the cool zone, 1 to 2 feet from the floor. You crawl around the bed and shake your spouse awake. "Honey, wake up, there's a fire! No, don't stand up," you caution him, "roll out!"  

 He flops down onto the bedroom floor beside you, and grunts "I'll get the boys, you get Jenny." As you both crawl towards the door, you hear that firefighter in your head again, telling your preschoolers to "check the door before opening it". Grabbing the back of your husband's pajamas, you stop him, reminding him to check it first.  The door is cool and you both head into the hallway. 

 That's when you realize what you are hearing; a crackling sound, getting louder. The blaring whine from the smoke detectors is deafening. Glancing down the stairs you see an ugly, sooty orange glare; is that coming from the kitchen, the family room, where? The air is getting hotter, full of the smell of old tires burning.

 For a brief moment you consider trying to put out the fire with the extinguisher under the sink. Then common sense kicks in, didn't the fire fighter tell the children's parents "You have less than 1 minute to put out a fire with a home extinguisher. If it's not totally out by then, get out and call 911 from somewhere else!"

 Your husband is yelling to the boys to roll onto the floor. Rushing into your daughter's bedroom, you start shaking her awake, frantically shouting. "Wake up, Jenny! There's a fire!" You are amazed she can sleep though all this noise." Stay down, and crawl to my room," you tell her, pulling the bedroom door shut behind you. 

 As you and your daughter crawl back into the hallway, your husband shouts that the stairs are cut off by fire. You will have to go out the window. He is already pulling the escape ladder from the closet, carefully settling the hooks on the sill of the bedroom window. While thinking how glad you are that you invested in a second-story escape ladder, you notice your youngest son trying to open the door to the hallway. "Billy, what are you doing!" you scream, and grab him around the waist. "Leave the door shut, it's keeping the fire away from us!"

 "Want blankie, Mommy!" he sobs, but you hold tight, knowing he is too young to understand that children who try to go back into a fire building for pets or possessions rarely make it out again. Your husband, safely on the ground at the foot of the ladder, is taking little George from Jenny's arms. Climbing over the sill with Billy in your arms, you settle your bare feet firmly on the cold metal rungs, grasping the chain side of the ladder with one hand while urging your young son to "hold on tight around Mommy's neck, just like the monkey babies we saw at the zoo."  

 You are terrified of heights .You are more scared of the fire, already feeling the heat starting to penetrate the closed bedroom door, seeing tendrils of smoke poking through the door jamb. You need Billy's cooperation to get both of you down this flimsy-seeming ladder and to safety. "Be brave, like the baby monkeys," you tell him as you creep down the ladder. When your husband tries to take him from your arms, Billy is clinging so tightly to your neck you can barely breathe, or maybe that is the adrenaline kicking in.

 "Get to the tree, our meeting place-hurry!" You remember chuckling with your husband about how seriously the kids took all that Exit Drills In The Home stuff, like having a meeting place outside for all your family members, during Fire Prevention Week last October. How much you all giggled, trying to crawl around the darkened house, bumping into furniture. Now that practice is what is making it possible to think about getting to the tree, and throwing your arms around your whole family.

 You come around the corner of the house and rush to check that everyone is alright. Your husband yells he is going to the neighbors to call 911. Before he can dash next door Jenny has her cell phone out and is dialing. Typical teenager-does she sleep with it in her hand, you wonder? Suddenly you hear the sirens of the fire trucks as the volunteers rush to your home; someone else has called for help. Flashing red lights never looked so good, blaring sirens never sounded so sweet!

 Hours later, while you talk with the Red Cross volunteer about what emergency assistance you will need to get through till tomorrow, the fire chief seeks you out to show you the melted control panel from the malfunctioning dryer that started the fire. He looks at you a bit oddly when you laugh. 

 You explain, "I'm just glad to know I did remember to blow out that candle!"

 Brought to you by the Apalachin Fire Department Public Education Committee. We start saving lives before the fire ever starts.