I sleep like the dead.

To what extent, I didn’t know; until I awoke Saturday morning to find two fire trucks outside my window and three more on the street. Until, as the day wore on and more details became available; that was aware I never heard the sirens or my neighbors in the parking lot on the other side of my open windows, screaming early that morning. Screaming because their homes were being destroyed by fire.

In the Virginia Highlands neighborhood of Atlanta, there have been a series of fires set – all in older apartment complexes, all set in common areas near a busy street so the culprit could get in and out easily. All used an accelerant.

My complex was #8.

My neighbors who were impacted tried to make the best of it. The good people at the North Highland Pub opened their doors at 5:30am, as my neighbors drank and were fed, they watched the local news from the bar and saw their belongings and their homes taken away from them.

Around 11 we were all in the parking lot, the alcoholic contents of my refrigerator out for the taking, all sharing a drink and trying to make light – when the fire restarted.

The trucks were back in minutes, this time spraying foam.

Francis had been the first one out, her apartment in the lower left hand corner of the building in the back. She heard footsteps and opened her door to find flames, which she ran through. She stood in the parking lot and wailed until Cameron (bottom window, front left hallway) woke up. He tried his front door only to find flames and shut it quickly. Waking his roommate and grabbing her dog, they went out the back.

His smoke detector never went off.

At some point, Robert’s family jumped out of their second story window — his parents both in their 50′s.

There are similar stories for the rest of the residents, some 14 people now without homes.

Shortly after the foam, we all rushed in the building, attempting to get out as much of their belongings as we could, the water from the trucks was taking its toll on the building. Ceilings in the upper apartments were missing, now a pink and grey sludge on the floor that we charged through like men in battle. We raced up and down the stairs with as much as we could carry to drop it in the parking lot and race back in.

The ceilings in the lower apartments were showing the burden of the dampness, starting to sag and drip.

By the time we got to Chris and Cameron’s apartment (they insisted they go last, as theirs seemed the least damaged and they were so unbelievably selfless) water was dripping heavily from the ceiling.

The fireman stood only feet away and watched.

There was a mad hustle to recover as much as we could.

Overall, there is a lot to be thankful for. No one was seriously hurt, all the residents escaped with their lives. Four pets were lost in the blaze.

It was around 5 or 6 when we finished loading Chris and Cameron’s belongings into a storage unit and went back to the bar to eat. The people there were kind and Cameron’s friends rallied around him in a way that – while comforting – surely couldn’t shake visions from that morning from his mind.

A few shots and a few burgers later, Chris and Luke had a hot shower and collapsed in my bed for what I hope was a restful night.

Such kind people should never have to suffer like this. Chris’ heart was with others the whole of the day – not concerned with herself.

No one should ever have to go through this.

In a few weeks, when everyone is settled in new homes, we’ll have a fundraiser for those — like Francis — who lost everything. None of the residents had renters insurance.

There’s much more I’d like to say, and much more I just can’t.