by Remi Grey
Everything is starting to run together in my mind. The smoke is beginning to make its way into the room even more, and I feel dizzy. Disoriented, I try to stand to look out of the window against my better judgment. I don't dare touch the window trim because I can feel the heat permeating off of it like a radiator. Even if I'm going to die from smoke inhalation and fire, I still don't want to willingly burn myself. It's so hot, and I can feel it getting hotter by the minute. All I can do is pray while I watch firefighters run out of the building to safety covered in black. No doubt from the residue inside, but no one is going back in.
That's when I closed my eyes, come to terms with my demise, and sink down to my knees, crumbling into pieces onto the floor. Tears pour from my eyes, each warm drop stinging more than the one that ran before it, my hair hanging plastered to my lifeless face from the sweat coming from my forehead.
Barely able to breathe, I decided to stop fighting what's going to happen anyway and succumb to my fate. Still, all the while deep down, I'm secretly praying for an angel of mercy to spare me from the pain and carry my poor lifeless body up in its wings. The likelihood of that happening would be like finding a double-headed coin in a field of four-leaf clovers. And with that thought floating through my subconscious, I feel myself slip away, and everything fades to black.
Chapter 3
Washington
I can't believe I made it through and back down the hall of death unscathed and in one piece. There's one door, only one that hasn't been opened, and I have a feeling that behind that door will be something or someone that will change my life forever. I notice a piece of cloth pushed out slightly from underneath it. Smart, whoever it is behind this door, still has their wits about them, that is, at least when they decided to barricade themselves into the room. I have to get them out of there. It’s got to be unbearable and frightening… assuming that the person inside is still alive and well.
Without a second thought, I closed my eyes against my training and better judgment praying for rain. It was the craziest thought I could have had in this situation, but I couldn't think of anything else at that moment.
It's been raining all week, and on a day like today, mother nature decides to bring us one of the hottest days of the year to date. My call to duty outweighs my fear, so I kick down the door with soot-covered boots hoping not to find my worst nightmare behind it. I hoped not to see a dead civilian, another lifeless body, a body that looked like my brother's did so many years ago.
What I find inside is so much more than what I feared. A woman huddled in the fetal position lifeless, surrounded by smoke so thick that I almost can't tell that she was a woman. I rush to her checking briefly for a pulse — it was there, but faint, and she was completely unconscious. I had to get her out of there fast. I estimate by the looks of the fire in the hall that we didn't have long to get out of this room and the building without the fire burning us both.
Looking outside the window, I see everyone on my team, all of my boys following protocol. Will I ever get to direct them again? Will I ever see them again? Hell, yeah, I'm going to see them again, I'm Captain Washington Drake. I'll be damned if I don't make it out of here without a fight.
Scooping up the woman with a new strength, I hold her, looking down at her motionless body in my arms as I take off out the door and into the hall. Thankfully, even though it seemed like I was in that room for more minutes than I can count, it really wasn't long at all. Looking out, I could tell because the fire hadn't reached the hall entirely, so I'm able to get us out, praying as we make our way down it.
I remember that the stairwell was over to the right, so I decide to head that way. I felt the handle first to see if it was hot, and everything was clear. I use what was left of the shirt she had stuffed under the door to make sure that her mouth is covered as best as possible and make my way down to the first floor. I know that I have to get going pretty fast down the stairs, but I don't feel like it one bit. It's like I'm floating on air, being guided by someone up above. Once we make it to the first-floor stairwell entrance, I feel again for a heated handle, but I remember that this part of the building had been cleared when we first went in after we arrived on the scene. I burst through, probably looking like some kind of crazy person carrying an unknown raven-haired woman. I just had to get her out of there. I couldn't let one person perish in such a useless and painful way. I've seen it before, that look you get when you haven't been the hero everyone was looking for. The one who has to come out and tell someone's family that their loved one didn't make it.
Today is not that day.
As soon as I see daylight through my helmet visor, I know that we're safe. I can finally breathe easy. I take one more look at the woman I hold in my arms, removing the piece of cloth just a little so that I can see her face one more time before I have to let her go. I can see everyone in front of me begin to react just as they should, moving towards us, the paramedics and firefighters.
Once the paramedics reach us, they attempt to pry her from my arms, but for some reason, I can't let go. I just can't at least not until I can see her face, see her eyes flutter open. I find myself closing my now tear-stained eyes, silently praying that she makes it.
"Captain?" One of my boys, Grant, calls to me. "Captain, you have to let her go, you've done your job, and now the paramedics need to do theirs."
Reluctantly, I loosen my grip and let her go.
"Captain, I thought you were done for," McBride says with a pat on the back, followed by a hug. "We all did."
I turn around to a group of faces staring back at me in awe of what I had just come through. I honestly don't even want to think about how bad this all could have turned out for me anymore. I am mentally and physically exhausted, not to mention emotionally drained as well. I don't think I felt anything this real since I was a kid. I never let my emotions get in the way of my job, but for some reason rescuing that mystery woman took a toll on my heart.
“Let’s get you looked at, Captain,” McBride insists.
“No, I’m fine. Let the paramedics focus on everyone else that was inside.”
“Captain, you took care of all of us in there,” he motions towards everyone outside and all of my boys who’re still staring at me like I have a second head. “Now, let us take care of you, c’mon.”
I do as he says and make my way towards one of the many ambulances to get checked out. After finally allowing myself to remove my helmet, which I have no idea why it took me so long to do, I notice that I'm right next to the ambulance that's taking care of my raven-haired mystery woman. Before I could think, I move past the poor guy that's trying to get my vitals and run to the tech that took her away from me.
“Is she going to make it?” I ask, almost frantic, my heart beating out of my chest. “Is she okay?”
"Captain, I need you to calm down. We have everything one hundred percent under control," he said, loading her still lifeless body into the ambulance.
“Promise me that she’ll make it, that you’ll do all you can to keep her alive!” I had to be losing my mind, these men can’t promise me that, what the hell was I saying?
“Sir, I need you to step back so that I can do my job.”
"Sorry, please forgive me. I lost it for a minute," I respond, ashamed of what I've just asked him.
I just asked a man that I don’t know to promise me that he would do everything in his power to save a woman that I don’t know because I’ve managed to develop some sort of unspoken attachment to her?
What the hell Washington this isn’t part of the rules?
I don't even know what she looks like. If she survives, I wouldn't be able to tell her from any other raven-haired woman on the streets, so why is this particular situation affecting me so much?
“Wait!” I yell to the paramedic before he closes the doors. “Can I see her?”
"She's stable, so I guess it's okay. You have five seconds, Captain, but only because you risked so much to save her life," he says, climbi
ng inside with her removing her oxygen mask just enough to show me her face.
Just what I thought, beautiful.
~~~
The next few days turned into the next few weeks, and I still can't get her face out of my mind. Her features were stunning, her sienna-hued skin, her full lips inviting me to taste. Even with all the sweat and soot covering about eighty percent of her body, I still couldn't take my eyes off her.
Damn, that woman had me under a spell, and she wasn’t even conscious, imagine if she actually spoke to me!
“Captain, your mother is on the line,” one of my newbies, Harrison, told me, interrupting my daydream.
“Thanks,” I say, picking up the blinking line reluctantly. “Mom, what’s going on?”
“Is that how you speak to your mother after not talking to her for over a week?” She hisses in her special little way. “You know I’ve been worried sick about you since that big fire a couple of weeks ago.”
Here we go again. Every time there's a big fire that she hears about either on the news or from my busybody brothers that I was involved with, she goes nuts. You would think that a thirty-seven-year-old man wouldn't have to worry about their mother calling every time a little danger presents itself. Especially in my line of work.
“I apologize, mom. How are you?” I reply, smoothing over the situation.
“Now that’s more like it,” she gloats, practically smiling through the phone. “I didn’t want to bother you, darling, I was just calling to check in on you.”
“I’m fine, mom. I've had a couple of fires since that last big one, you know."
“That’s exactly why I’m checking in, you know I love you Washington,” I can hear the anxiety in the tone of her voice. “I know you’re a grown man, but you’ll always be my baby no matter how old you get.”
My mom always has a way of making me feel like I'm five years old again when she tells me that I'm still her baby. She uses that to her advantage every time she thinks I'm going to get mad at her for meddling in some kind of way into my life.
“I understand, mom, and I love you with all of my heart, now what is it you want this time?” I tease knowing full well that she won this round.
"Well, like I said, I was just calling to check in on you."
“You could have used my cell, mom,” I point out, knowing that I ignore her calls most of the time. “Don’t I always return your calls when I can’t pick up?”
“Oh, don’t give me that crap Washington, I hope you don’t think you’re fooling me,” she fusses, as feisty as ever. “I know that you ignore my calls, so I’ve gotten smart.”
Instantly I can hear myself begin to laugh because I knew that she was right.
“I’m sorry, but most of the time, you just want to talk about my personal life, when I'm going to give you some grandkids or to fix me up with the next looney on your 'Perfect Wife’ List.”
“In my defense, I only have your best interest at heart. I don’t want to see you end up all alone after we’re gone.”
In my mind, I know that she's right, I should settle down and stop dating these women who look good for me on paper, but the chemistry just isn't there. Things have got to change for the better, and I do want my parents to see me as happy with someone as they have been together for over forty years. I realize the older I get, the more I want this for myself as well. The right woman hasn't come along, so I like to have fun until she does. My heart is open, it always has been, but I'll only let one woman inside. I'm only loving hard once, and that's it for me.
"I get it, mom, you don't have to explain. I get it, and I love you too."
"Thank you, darling, now, I have a lovely lady who wants to meet you…"
"Bye mom, I love you." I hang up before she can get another word in about, yet another so-called diamond in the rough.
I can hear the boys as they pass by my office door, laughing and snickering. This is too much. My mom has got to stop calling me at the station embarrassing me in front of my brothers. How am I supposed to lead them on and off a job if they’re laughing at me because my mom is trying to hook me up, Heaven above if I didn’t love that woman…
“Captain, phone again,” Harrison called out to me again.
I wonder what it is this time.
"If it's my mom, tell her to call my cell." I knew that would shut her down.
“It’s not your mom. It’s a lady. She says she wants to talk to you,” I could hear everyone in the station making all kinds of commotion, some of them even cat called and whistled as they strolled past picking fun at me.
“Shut it, you guys.”
I wonder what this could be about. It’s probably my mother’s doing. What will she think of next?
"Thanks, Harrison," I say, looking at the blinking line.
“I’m going to have to start charging you a secretary fee if you get any more calls today,” he jokes as everyone else lets out a good hearty laugh.
“Laugh it up while you still can, Harrison. I’ll remember that when I’m making the schedule.”
Silence. Yeah, that shut ‘em up.
"Captain Drake here," I say, very matter of fact like I have somewhere to go. Truth is it's been slow around here the whole week, and I could use a reason to move from behind this desk, maybe my mom is on to something.
"Hello, is this Captain Washington Drake that saved a woman from an office building high rise fire a couple of weeks ago?" The sweet-sounding voice asks from the other end.
“Yes, this is he,” I answer, almost afraid of what that sweet voice would say on the other end.
My heart is pounding because deep down because I know it's her. She's the person I've been thinking about but was too afraid to admit so to anyone but myself and my younger brother Franky, who's my best friend.
“Thank you, thank you for saving my life,” she says before I hear deep and hard sobs echoing from the other end of my phone.
All other sounds around me and outside of my door go silent, I hear nothing, absolutely nothing at all but sobbing through incoherent words.
I want to console her, but how can I? I don't even know her, and unless someone has invented a way for people to jump through their phones to get to the person on the other end, that option is entirely impossible.
“You’re welcome, it’s my job, Miss —,” I comment, waiting for her to calm down enough to speak and hopefully give me her name.
“Alverez, Elena Alverez,” she sniffs.
She's Latin, which explains the warmth of her skin tone and her supple lips.
"Beautiful." That's all I can think to say because that was indeed what she was, physically at least. I had no idea who she was beyond her looks.
“What was that?” she questions, I’m sure confused by my reaction. “Did you say beautiful?”
I can hear her moving around, settling herself, sniffing her last little sniffs, and wiping her nose.
"Excuse me. I just meant that your name, it's beautiful, and I can hear a faint accent through all those tears of yours. Where are you from?"
What the hell Washington are you really doing this right now, hitting on an emotionally fragile rescue victim?
“I'm surprised you could hear anything through all of my blubberings," she laughs. “I’m Cuban, Captain Drake.”
The sound of her laugh is like a siren’s call drawing me in like a lovestruck fool.
"Wow, what brings you here?" I probe, hoping to get as much information as possible before she picks up on my interest.
"I was traveling between shows, and on the day that you saved me, I was having a meeting with my agent."
Now, I’m even more intrigued.
“Interesting, so are you an actress or something? Have I seen you in a movie or sitcom somewhere?”
“No. I’m a dancer, not an actress.”
A dancer, well, I didn't expect that one.
“That’s wonderful, wha--.”
"Captain, I would like to meet you so that I can properly than
k you in person," she cuts me off, which was probably a good thing. "That's the reason why I wanted to get in touch… can we meet later tonight for dinner, my treat?"
"Uhm, sure, I would love to, but I'm at the station tonight. Actually, I’m at the station most nights being Captain and all.”
"Oh, I didn't take that into consideration. Well, if you don't mind, I would love to come to see you at the station, and I can even bring everyone a nice hot meal," she offers eagerly. "I’m sure you guys could use a good meal after working so hard.”
I'm working hard, alright, working hard not to embrace myself. I’m getting too old for this shit.
“I don’t want you to put yourself out for my house full of slobs, really, don’t go out of your way just to thank me.”