The Men On Fire: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

“Garment factory. Great,” I say. “Lots of flammables. Do you happen to know what kind of clothes they make?”

  “What does it matter what kind of clothes they make?” Noah asks.

  “Some fabrics are more flammable than others,” I tell him. “Cotton, linen, and silk will burn more readily than wool or polyester. Anything with a weave will burn slower. Most synthetic fabrics like nylon and acrylic tend to resist ignition. But with those, if they do ignite, they will melt, which can cause severe burning. The greatest risk is when natural fibers and synthetic ones are combined because you get a high rate of burning and melting at the same time. We also need to keep an eye out for fabric dyes and additives. Generally anything used to provide color will be highly flammable. They could have drums of those lying around that could become like cannons or bombs. And, of course, boxes and packing material will just be kindling, adding fuel to the fire.”

  Noah is glued to my words. I know he learned a lot of this in the fire academy, but it’s hard to remember everything. I learned a lot when my company responded to a garment factory fire last spring. Luckily, it was on a Sunday and no workers were present. We’re not as fortunate today. It’s Tuesday. Everyone goes to work on Tuesday.

  J.D. looks back at me like a proud father. He nods. “Good job, Briggs.”

  Getting kudos from J.D. is not an everyday occasion. I’ve found when he doles them out, it means he’s impressed.

  As we approach the four-story building, we see flames coming out of several windows.

  “We got a job, people,” J.D. says. “Get your air packs on.”

  When we exit the truck, I see two other engines and a ladder truck pulling up alongside us. Then Battalion Chief Mitzel drives up in his SUV.

  “We’ve got a live one,” he says when he gets out. He motions to Lt. Cash’s unit. “Squad 13, you get up there and vent the roof. Engine 319, stretch a line to exposure two, bottom floor. Engine 77, give me a primary search in exposure four. Ladder 51, get Squad 13 on the roof and standby for my orders.”

  I lean in to Noah and whisper, “That’s the left entrance he’s sending us to, Probie.”

  He rolls his eyes at me.

  “Where do you want us, Chief?” someone from another company asks.

  He points to the people funneling out of the building. “Engine 98, I need a secondary in exposure two and perimeter control. Help get those folks to safety.”

  We grab our gear and head to the entrance on the left side of the building. Smoke is billowing out, so we mask up. J.D. goes in first, waving us in behind him. “Briggs, take the probie and go down that hallway. Duck and I will go this way.”

  “Okay, Cap. Follow me, Auggie.”

  We run into a half-dozen people who we help get outside. “Six coming out of exposure two,” I say into my walkie.

  Then Chief Mitzel comes over the radio. “Engine 319, 77 needs help moving their line in on the second floor, south stairwell, can you assist?”

  J.D. comes into view with a woman over his shoulders. He hands me the thermal imaging camera. “Take this. You and Noah go to two and assist 77. Duck is coming behind me with another victim. We’ll follow you up as soon as we can. I’ll notify the chief.”

  Noah and I find the south stairwell and climb to the second floor where we see Engine Company 77. Jason Bortles looks at the Halligan in one of my hands, the axe in the other, and the water can extinguisher Auggie is holding.

  “Shit, you don’t have anything better than that?” Bortles says. “There are people behind that door.”

  “What were you expecting?” I ask.

  “I dunno, a little C-4 maybe?” he jokes. “Look.” He points to the second-floor stairwell door that appears to be cemented shut. “They’re remodeling, and some idiot dropped two hundred pounds of wet fucking cement here.” He uses his Halligan, demonstrating how solid it is. “Somebody’s gonna be in a lot of fucking trouble.”

  “The south stairway is blocked,” I report into my walkie. “Cemented shut. We need another way up.”

  “The north stairway is impassable,” the chief says. “The elevator shaft is twenty feet to the left of the first-floor stairwell. Find it and I’ll have someone meet you there with a ladder. Looks like you’re climbing.”

  “You heard the man. Let’s go!”

  Five minutes later, we’re on the second floor, evacuating the last of the workers down the elevator shaft as the smoke plumes up from below. It’s getting harder to see more than two feet in front of us.

  “Floors three and four are clear,” Chief Mitzel says over the radio. “We’re going to hit it from above. You have two minutes to get out of there.”

  J.D. is carrying a woman in respiratory distress when we hear a scream. I look behind us, trying to gauge where it came from.

  “Captain, there’s one more,” Noah says.

  J.D. mouths a few choice words, clearly wanting to go himself, but as his mask is on the woman he’s holding, there’s no time. “Go,” he says, nodding to Noah and me. “You have exactly ninety seconds. This building is going down.”

  “Got it,” I say.

  “Don’t make me come after you!” he yells behind us. “Ninety seconds!”

  I hand Noah the thermal imaging camera. “Find her,” I say.

  I look over his shoulder as he scans the walls with the camera. Damn, we’re in a fucking hot box here. The whole goddamn building is on fire around us.

  “We open any of these doors and it’s going to flash,” I say.

  I hear an explosion behind us. “Fuck. I’ll bet that was the elevator shaft. We might be trapped.”

  “There are some windows on the east side,” Noah says. “If we can find her and make our way there.”

  Then something on fire darts in front of us. “There!” I say.

  Noah falls on it, putting out the flames. Then he stands up, holding a cat.

  “What the fuck, Briggs? We came back here for a goddamned cat?”

  The cat squeals and jumps out of his arms. It’s the same high-pitched sound we thought was a woman.

  “Engine 319, report,” J.D. says over the radio.

  “It wasn’t a victim, Captain. It was a cat. And I think our way out just collapsed.”

  The captain radios me, confirming my worst fear. We don’t have any way out.

  Noah tries to open the stairwell door, the one that’s cemented shut on the other side. “We’re fucking trapped, Briggs.”

  I take a quick peek at Noah’s regulator and then my own. We both have about ten minutes of air left. “We’re going to try for the east-side windows, Captain,” I say, choosing my steps carefully as my glove runs along the wall. “Oh shit.”

  “What is it?” J.D. asks.

  The walls are bubbling. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now!” I yell to Noah.

  “There!” he says, pointing to a door at the end of the hallway. “No thermal feedback.”

  I try the knob, but it’s locked. I turn around and brace myself against the sides of the doorframe and then kick it in with the sole of my boot. We just make it through the door when I hear the scariest sound a firefighter can hear. I hear the fire flashing in the hallway behind us.

  Noah and I hold the door shut with our body weight. “Find whatever you can and shove it under the door,” I say.

  “There isn’t anything!” he yells. He scans the room. “Oh, holy fuck, Briggs.”

  “What is it?” I ask, still holding the heavy steel door shut.

  “Remember what you said in the rig about the fabric dyes?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well”—he motions behind me—“I think we found them.”

  I turn and look around the room. The storage room with no windows. The room with a dozen drums labeled with various colors of fabric dye.

  “Fuck!”

  “Captain, we have a bit of a problem.” I look over at Noah and then I say into the radio, “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday.”

  Most firefighters never have to call Ma
yday in their entire careers, and here I am, barely eighteen months in and with a probie. It’s a situation we all train for. It’s a situation we hope we’ll never have to be in.

  “Tell me, Briggs,” J.D. says.

  “This is Engine 319,” I report. “We have two firefighters trapped in a storage room in the two/three corner of exposure two. End of the hallway. No windows. There’s a dozen barrels of flammables in here. You’ll have to come through the building wall about six feet from the corner.”

  “Shit,” I hear J.D. say through the radio.

  I laugh. I laugh because in this moment, there is nothing else I can do. “Yeah, that’s what we said.”

  “Air?” he asks.

  I look at my regulator. “About eight minutes.”

  “The rescue team is on their way. You hang in there.”

  “We’ll do our best, Cap.” I look around the room again. “Grab that chair, Probie.”

  Noah brings the chair over and we brace it against the door. I look around and see boxes piled against one wall. I open one of them and look inside. “Fabric adhesive,” I say. “It’s not flammable.”

  “But the boxes are,” Noah says.

  “We don’t have much choice, do we? We need to keep the smoke out. We’re running out of air.” I motion to his water can extinguisher. “We can wet the boxes first.”

  Noah sprays the boxes and then we pile them as tightly as we can get them against the door. Then we back up into the far corner and sit on the floor.

  Noah looks at me and I can see the fear in his eyes. “Ever been in a predicament like this?” he asks.

  “You want the truth?”

  “Always.”

  I shake my head. “This is about as tough a spot as I’ve ever gotten into.”

  He nods over and over.

  The alarm goes off on my PASS device, letting me know I’m low on air. Usually when this happens, we stop what we’re doing and leave the building.

  I get up and move some drums to the side, hoping to find an air vent or a compromise in the outer wall. I start poking around with the axe. But after a few minutes, I realize I’m just using up more air by exerting myself. It’s just my luck that we ended up in the most fortified fucking room in the building.

  Then I hear Noah’s PASS alarm go off. His air is getting low, too.

  “How’s it looking, Cap?” I ask into the radio.

  “Rescue is coming for you, Briggs. They’re going to break through the south wall, about six feet from the corner like you said. Hold tight.”

  “We’re holding,” I say. “But the door is getting hot, the smoke is getting thick, and the air is getting low.”

  J.D. forgets to take his thumb off the radio button when he yells, “Hurry the fuck up, people. We are not losing these firefighters.”

  Noah’s eyes go wide and he starts to hyperventilate.

  “Noah, you have to breathe slowly. You’ll use up all the air. Look at me. Look into my eyes. That’s it. Breathe with me. Slowly. Slowly. You’ve got it.”

  The lights in my mask start to flash. I look at my regulator and see that I’m almost completely out of air. I take my mask off and put it to the side.

  “What are you doing?” Noah says, handing me my mask. “Put it back on.”

  I can see that he’s starting to panic again. I put my hand on his. “Noah, I can’t put it back on. If I run out of air, the mask will get sucked to my face and I won’t be able to breathe at all. Remember?”

  The lights in his mask start flashing now, so I remove it for him. He’s not thinking straight and I’m afraid he’ll suffocate himself.

  “We’re going to die,” he says.

  I scoot over next to him. “Do you know how many people are working to save us right now? Literally all of FDNY is out there figuring out how to get us out of here. And I’d bet my life they’re going to succeed.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, Briggs, I’m not going to bet against you. If I win, I won’t get shit because we’ll be dead.”

  “Nobody is dying today, Noah. They’re coming for us.”

  I want to believe the words I just spoke. But deep down, I know I said them to keep myself from panicking like he is. But the truth is, it’s smoky in here and more smoke is coming in under the door with every passing minute.

  “Lie down on the floor,” I tell him. “The air is cleaner down there. If things get worse, breathe shallow and cover your mouth and nose with your coat.”

  We lie next to each other on the floor. I grab the axe and hit it over and over on the outside wall, making noise to help them find us.

  I look over at Noah and watch as a tear coming from his eye blazes a clean path through the soot on his face.

  “I stole a hundred bucks from my sister two years ago,” he says. “I was between jobs and there was this necklace that my girlfriend, Sophie, really wanted. One day, I just saw the money on Pam’s dresser and I took it. My mom fired the cleaning lady, thinking it was her. But it wasn’t, it was me. And last year, when I was—”

  “Stop confessing shit to me, Auggie. I’m not your goddamned priest.”

  But then I start thinking about all the things I regret. But there’s really only one thing. Ivy. She’s my one regret. If I had to go back and do it all over again, I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Aspen said I needed to wait. Wait until Ivy decided she wanted to be with me. Well, fuck that. I should have told her. I should have walked back into her apartment the day she said she loved me too much to put me through everything. I should have walked back in and made her believe that I was okay with however things turned out. I should have made her understand that anything we had to go through would be okay as long as we were doing it together.

  I’ve wasted so much time. Time I could have spent with her. Time I could have loved her. I’ve been such a fool.

  “How long do you think we have?” Noah asks, looking at the door.

  I assess the smoke filling the room above us. “I don’t know. Five minutes, maybe? Pull your hood over your mouth to filter the air. And keep your flashlight pointed toward the ceiling,” I remind him.

  I do everything that I instructed him to do. But then I radio my captain.

  “Captain, I need you to do something for me,” I say.

  “You mean something other than rescue your sorry ass?” he says.

  “I need you to contact Ivy Greene. Tell her …”

  I stop talking. Because I know this is an unauthorized transmission. I need to keep the radio clear for the rescue team. But damn it if I don’t want to tell him to find her and tell her that those two weeks were the best two weeks of my life. I want him to tell her I screwed up. To tell her I should have fought harder for her. That I’m a damn fool for letting her go.

  Suddenly, the south wall of the room starts to crumble. Noah and I scoot back as bricks and drywall fall into the room and fresh air clears some of the smoke. Then Lt. Cash pops his head through the hole they just made.

  “Tell her yourself, Briggs.”

  Noah and I run to the hole in the wall. I take in a deep breath. Deeper than any breath I’ve ever taken. Then I nod to Noah. “You go first, Auggie.”

  He laughs, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’ve never been so happy to have someone call me that.”

  Once we’re clear of the building, Debbe and Ryan check us out for smoke inhalation. Debbe looks at my throat and listens to my chest.

  “You look good, Briggs. Based on your ramblings on the radio, I thought for sure you were half dead,” she jokes.

  “It was close, Deb. I’m not even sure we had a few minutes left.” I shake my head, thinking I’ve never been nearer to death than I was today. “It was close.”

  Noah walks over to me as I button my shirt back up.

  “You check out?” I ask him.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah.”

  We both smile and then laugh. Then I pull him into a hug. We’re a brotherhood at FDNY. Family. But when you go th
rough something like that with someone, it creates a bond even greater than before.

  “You did good, brother,” I tell him. “Next time you’ll do even better.”

  He nods, finding it hard to come up with words. I know the feeling.

  “Come on,” I say, patting him on the back. “They still need our help. Let’s go finish the job.”

  Noah and I help with the victims as the fire is attacked by both aerial suppression from Ladder 51 and by fireboat in the Upper Bay. The benefit of a structure fire being next to a body of water is that the fireboat never runs out of water and can pump tens of thousands of gallons of water per minute.

  An hour later, with the fire out and most of the victims transported, Chief Mitzel finds our company.

  “Engine 319, you can head out. We’ll handle the overhauling.” He grabs my shoulder. “I believe you’ve all earned your keep today.”

  “Pack it up, 319,” J.D. says, shaking hands with the chief.

  When we get into the rig, Noah says, “I’m going to call my mom when we get back to the station. Maybe she can find the cleaning lady’s number so I can apologize.”

  “Sounds like a fine idea,” I say.

  “Anything you’re gonna do?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, there is.”

  I check the time to see how many hours we have left on shift, because as soon as it’s over, I’m going to find Ivy. I’m going to find her and make her listen.

  En route back to the house, a call comes over the radio. “Engine 319, EMS 64, respond to OB emergency, 547 Parker Drive.”

  My stomach turns. “Shit. That’s Ivy’s shop. Duck, get us there fast.”

  “On our way,” he says, turning the rig around.

  Debbe radios that they’re stuck in traffic.

  I radio back. “This is the real deal, Deb. I think someone might be having a baby. We need you there.”

  “It’s gridlock at the hospital,” she says. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  I take off my gear in the truck, ready to hop out as soon as we pull up. When we do, I’m out the door and into the shop in record time.

  “Ivy!” I shout.

  “Back here,” someone calls.

  I go into the back room where a very pregnant Ivy is lying down on some towels. Towels with too much blood on them.