Chapter Five (January 1, 1969) (Draft)

Wednesday, January 1, 1969

(Hollywood, California)

Fire
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I am the god of hell fire, and I bring you
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Fire, I’ll take you to burn
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Fire, I’ll take you to learn
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I’ll see you burn...

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–The Crazy World of Arthur Brown (1)

We’re still rapping as smoke fills the room–I start coughing and gagging.

Panic!

The damn place is on fire!

"Let’s get out of here!" I scream at Mel, Eleanor, and Caesar as they disappear into the smoke."Where are you? Help me, I’ve gotta get out!"

But no one answers, just a chorus of screams.

Somewhere, I find my last bit of strength, and I jump off the bed and run blindly around the room. But I can’t see anything now; the room is dense with gray smoke, the kind that stings your eyes.

I’ve got to get out!

I don’t want to die!

I’m near a window; I stick my head out and take a deep breath. The clammy air feels good, but fires spread fast, like that Chicago fire that killed 99 school kids when I was seven. Afterwards, firefighters found the dead little kids, stiff in their desks, still holding their pencils above charred pieces of paper; I see into the future, my charred body in this room piled on this old, grungy bed–I can’t die like this–

–I’ve got to get out of here.

Will I have to jump?

The concrete slab below seems so far away–how many bones will I break? Maybe I’ll even die.

People scream and cry as they grope their way through the hallway. I start out the window, but halfway out, something clicks in my head–maybe it’s that guardian angel I forgot about–

I’ll take my chances in the hall.

As I grope toward the door, I trip over Caesar. I kick him. "Get the hell up!"

He groans and raises himself up, so I figure he’ll be okay, and why should I care anyway? My so-called friends left me here to die.

Cowards.

In the hall, blinded by smoke, I drag my fingertips along the wall as I navigate toward the stairs, but I can’t get any air into my lungs. Stumbling down the stairs, I hold my breath. The walls don’t feel hot.

Where are the flames?

Suddenly, I’m outside in the cold L.A. air, and I can’t get enough of it into my lungs, and my chest heaves back and forth. My lungs, hurting like hell, fill with air; I hack and cough, and everyone’s coughing up their guts. Outside, on the street, Stoney is passed out, flat on his back, and–

Oh-my-God-he’s-dead!

–But he moans. Caesar, Eleanor, and Mel stand over him, cajoling him to get up–how did he get out, drugged up like that?

"You made it," Eleanor says, as if my making it out alive were of minor consequence.

Cops, hundreds of them in gas masks, rush into the Mission Hotel, their guns drawn.

"What the fuck?"

The Preacher Man, who, an hour ago, was shooting up heroin with Stoney, says, "Tear gas, Jennifer. A goddam police raid. Can you imagine such stupid shit?"

I’m relieved no one’s burned up, but then I’m goddam pissed off because of the window. I would’ve jumped out the goddam window, the goddam fucking window....

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(1) "Fire," from The Crazy World of Arthur Brown album, performed by Arthur Brown

Full lyrics of "Fire"

About Arthur Brown