‘Shut the fuck up,’ he yelled as the woman ran over and caught me in the stomach with her fistful of keys. I doubled over. She grabbed me by the hair and slapped me across the face, screaming at me, calling me a fascist, a terrorist. I was in such pain I couldn’t get words out of my mouth, let alone protect myself from her assault. A man in scrubs was now grabbing one of my arms, shoving it up behind my back, marching me toward a wall, telling me he was going to beat the shit out of me before the cops got here.

And then a woman nearby started screaming at them both.

‘What are you doing?’

‘He’s the asshole who firebombed us,’ the guy in scrubs yelled.

‘That’s the man who brought me here!’

Elise.

‘Then why is he still here?’ screamed the other woman.

I managed to say:

‘Having some food … taking a break … saw the guy throw the Molotov … came running … too much fire … ran to the back …’

I started to buckle.

‘Let him go now!’ Elise said.

He let me go. Elise turned on them.

‘You’re as bad as they are, doing this to a bystander just trying to help us!’

She now had her hand on my shoulder.

‘Where’s your car?’ she asked.

‘In the front.’ I felt as if I was about to fall to my knees, the wind knocked out of me, the slaps across the face still stinging, fear of being pounded into pulp still shooting through me.

‘We’re getting him to his car,’ Elise told the guy in scrubs.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ the guy suddenly screamed as flames jumped out from everywhere. With Elise he started guiding me down the alleyway. It was impossible to move forward, fire now engulfing this passageway. There was no air. Just the stink of burning brick, burning wood, burning flesh. The roar of fire engines and cop cars was deafening. Back we went. The guy with the taser was still in front of this rear door, trying to get the last of everyone out. Some women were still in hospital gowns, running away in shock. Then a fireball of flames burst forth through one of the nearby windows. It engulfed the taser guy. The man in scrubs dropped me and ran toward his colleague – as his shirt was on fire and he was howling with agony. Elise dashed to him as well. I staggered over to a garbage can, leaning against it for support, then saw that there was a hose attached to a faucet in the nearest exterior wall. I grabbed it. I hit the faucet with my foot. Bingo. A rush of water. I managed to aim the hose toward the man on fire. It drenched the flames. He pitched forward in agony, hitting the pavement. I fell to my knees. Elise somehow managed to hoist me up.