A Low Blue Flame

by A. J. Downey

  “Watch yourself, Calder!” The Captain came over the radio.

  “Copy that. Brody, you with me?”

  “On your six, Calder. Let’s do this.”

  I cleared the ledge of the roof and strode across the tar-paper roof. I tried the door to the emergency stairwell, but it was locked.

  “Ram!” I called and Brody thumped me on the shoulder. I set aside my axe and took up the other side of the battering ram. We hauled back on it and it took two-and-a-half tries for the door to bust loose.

  “Goddamnit!” Brody cried when some of the folks from the units stumbled out onto the roof.

  “Barnaby, get these people out of here! Brody and I are going in.” I took up my fire axe.

  “Copy that!” Barnaby’s voice came over the radio as he helped people out of the stairwell. Smoke roiled out against the deepening twilight, and I took one last look up into the sky. I spied a star or two starting to come out and then I couldn’t see shit. I let the respirator do its job and pushed past bodies until suddenly, there was no more resistance from the press of people attempting to flee.

  We plunged down the stairs to the first landing and started kicking doors, pushing people, coughing and choking, towards the stairs, creating a human chain with the few who stubbornly wanted to stay put despite the blaring alarm and faint wink of the emergency lights through the smoke.

  We pounded on doors and made our way, floor to floor, until we reached the inferno chewing through the third floor.

  “Brody! Here!” I shouted. I could hear someone coughing, someone crying, even through the chaos and rage of the flames.

  “It’s bad in here, Boss,” I heard over the radio. “Fully engulfed, out into the hallway.” I almost didn’t recognize my own voice, the adrenaline surging, my blood rushing through my ears even as the fire roared up the hall. I kicked, and kicked again, the screaming and crying getting louder, forming words in thickly-accented English.

  “Help! Help us!”

  “One, two, three!” Brody kicked out with me in unison and the door gave, flying into the apartment.

  An older woman was coughing and wheezing, choking something out in Spanish, a little girl nearby clutching a doll or something to her chest, crying. Brody went for the old woman; I dove for the kid and scooped her up. She screamed and wailed in terror, coughing and hacking, making these little mewling sounds between. Brody went first, the old woman screaming, probably for her granddaughter. I couldn’t make it out and honestly, I didn’t care. I had a job to do, get them out alive.

  It was pitch black except for the heat and angry glow off to our left.

  “Down!” Brody shouted over the radio and I turned my back on the flames. The heat was so intense that I could feel it even through my gear. I hugged the little girl close and bolted for the stairwell, moving down and nearly crashing into the rescue crew coming up from the bottom. They about-faced and we hauled ass down the stairs.

  The kid went limp by the second floor and was totally fucking out by the first. I burst out onto the sidewalk and pelted for Angel, my mask so dirty with soot I could still barely see. The little girl roused and asked, “Mr. Mittens?” and I passed her off to Angel, who put oxygen on her.

  “Here!” Lind passed a limp kitten and another mask off to me. I knocked off my helmet and ripped off my mask and put the oxygen on the cat, coughing the stench of the fire out of my own fuckin’ lungs. Still, I had to work on the kitten, because if that little girl lost her cat I’d feel fuckin’ terrible.

  “Come on, little man!” I urged, rubbing his tiny limp body with my fingers, shoving his whole face into the mask. I swore to myself, soft and full of heat, angry, wanting to just save one fuckin’ thing. If it wasn’t my relationship with Lil, let it be this girl and cat.

  Brody poured a bottle of water over the little ball of fur to cool him down and with an indignant cry, his little eyes rolled back into focus and he writhed in my hand, mewling up a storm. I grinned and let out a laugh and looked up and over to Angel and felt the fuckin’ smile die on my lips.

  His shoulders were slumped and he wasn’t knuckle-dragging against the girl’s sternum trying to get her to open her eyes anymore. Lind looked like she’d taken a hit to her lady-balls too, and was pulling a sheet out of the back of their bus.

  “No,” I said, and he shook his head and reached out to Lind to take hold of the sheet to cover the little girl. “No, no, no, no, no! Man, no!” I yelled. “You have to keep trying.”

  Angel shook his head and looked like even he was close to tears and said, voice cracking, “Man, I can’t. It’s too late, she’s gone.”

  “This is bullshit!” I screamed at him and threw my helmet off the top of my head onto the ground. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” I screamed at no one. “The girl fucking dies but the goddamn cat lives?”

  I shook my head, my rage suddenly fueled by the unfairness of everything! The girl fucking dies but the cat fucking lives. Lil gets fucking cheated on but her life gets turned upside down and inside out and I’m just supposed to sit here, her man, and not do a goddamned thing!

  They weren’t even close to one another but it still tore at my soul, ate me alive, and was destroying me from the inside out. I looked down at the crying, mewling cat in Barnaby’s hands where I’d thrust it and bowed my head. Helpless to do anything, I just stood in the rush of activity around us as Lind looked at me with the same horror in her eyes that I felt.

  The girl fucking dies but the cat fucking lives.

  This was some seriously fucked-up shit.

  All. Of. It.

  22

  Lilli…

  I’d stared at the text message on my screen and chewed my lip for the better part of an hour. I’d missed the text by two. I sighed and bowed my head, feeling so uncertain as to how to respond to something so profound. Something I didn’t deserve.

  “Call him again,” Veronica urged, not for the first time, and I stared down at the phone in my hand and hedged.

  “He’s probably out on a call,” I said. “He’ll call me when he gets – “

  My phone, buzzing insistently, the photo of us together in front of the Liberty Bell lighting up the screen, cut me off. Veronica made an annoyed sound. I answered the call, self-conscious.

  “Hi,” I said lamely ‒ and the voice on the other end wasn’t Backdraft.

  “Lil?”

  “Yes?” I felt the color drain from my face and my mouth go dry in sheer terror.

  “It’s Brody.”

  “Oh, my God, what’s happened?” I felt tears spring to my eyes in a rush of emotion as I thought to myself, Please no, not this, I can’t take anymore.

  “Oh, shit! No! It’s not like that. He’s fine – er, physically fine, unharmed…” he trailed off and let out a frustrated breath. “Look, it was a bad call, Lil. A real bad one. With what’s going on with you, he’s not taking it well. He doesn’t even know I’ve called you. Angel and Lind are downstairs to smuggle you out. Can you meet them in your lobby?”

  I turned to Veronica, who looked at me like I was being dumb. I smiled weakly and said into the phone, “Absolutely, Brody. I’ll be right down.”

  He let out a rush of breath and said, “Good, that’s great, we’ll see you soon.”

  We ended the call and Veronica, who was standing close enough to hear everything said, “Smuggle you out how?”

  Turns out, it was "in the back of an ambulance as a patient from the garage level," as was the building’s protocol. The paparazzi didn’t even stir, which was a plus for us and as soon as we reached the firehouse, they backed into one of the bays and shut the doors before letting me out. Lind gave me a helping hand out of the back, and I spied Backdraft’s bike parked at the back wall.

  “Where is he?” I asked, and the Captain waded through the guys gathered around and sighed.

  “We are breaking so many rules, right now. He’s in the showers; we’ll stay out here. Don’t rat us out to the brass, girly.”


  “I would never,” I said, and took off my jacket, laying it and my purse over the back of his motorcycle seat. One of the guys held a tiny kitten, rubbing over its head with his thumb.

  “What happened?” I asked, frowning at the sight. Something was totally off about how somber everyone was being, and how reverent they were towards the little tabby kitten with white feet. Angel answered me.

  “Little girl,” he said with a sniff. “Maybe five or six. Kitten lived, she didn’t. Backdraft was the one to pull them out.”

  I felt my shoulders drop at the unfairness of it, and my eyes drifted back to the tiny cat.

  “What are you going to do with him?” I asked.

  “Seems to me he’d make a good mouser. We’ve been in need of a good housecat,” the Captain said and smiles broke out among the crew. I nodded. Jaspar and Marigold would have been pissed, but I would have taken him if they said he was going to a shelter. Poor tiny thing.

  I turned to the locker-room doors and squared my shoulders, unsure of what I would find inside, scared that maybe they were putting entirely too much faith in me. At the same time, any and all embarrassment had fled in the face of knowing Backdraft was in pain and that I needed to try and fix what I could of it, even though I might be a majority of the root cause of it.

  Sorrow welled fresh out of the laceration on my soul that the media shitstorm the lies of Backdraft’s ex had inflicted. While Mark wasn’t precisely a liar about our relationship, he was totally lying about the mechanics of it. I hadn’t known about her. I hadn’t even suspected. God what a mess.

  I took a deep breath at the locker-room door, and let it out slow before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Steamy vapor hung low on the air, and through it I could see his muscled back. The shower was going full blast, but he wasn’t really using it. Instead, his forehead was pressed to the tile and his massive shoulders shook. Every line of his body echoed the overwhelming weight of that little girl’s death bearing down on those shoulders, and tears immediately sprang to my eyes.

  I didn’t stop to think, I didn’t care about my clothes or the water, or anything but doing something, anything at all, to make it even just a little bit better. I went to him and wrapped my arms around him, hugging myself to his back as the water from the shower soaked through my sweater and I cried with him. I couldn’t not.

  He jerked, startled, and, realizing who it was, settled again, one of his massive hands engulfing both of mine over his stomach as he tried to pull it all together.

  “Don’t,” I said. “You don’t have to. Not with me, not ever.”

  I felt the tension in him leak out and he turned in the circle of my arms and looked down at me, the water hitting his back, dripping off his nose, hiding his tears, but for the redness around his eyes which could have just as easily been from the smoke. The acrid smell of it hung on the steam and clung to the back of my throat.

  “I missed you,” he said, his voice unsteady. “It’d only been a couple of days but…”

  “I missed you, too, Backdraft, but I – I’m not good for you,” I said, unhappily.

  “Bullshit,” he said harshly. “You’re everything I need, and this proves it.”

  His mouth crushed down over mine and I honestly couldn’t resist him even if I wanted to, which ‒ I didn’t. I fell gratefully into his kiss and let him pick me up, his arms around me in a tight hug, my arms around him like I could never let him go, either.

  I don’t remember my clothes coming off, but they did, flung into a soggy heap near the entrance to the showers. He backed me up against the cool tile wall but I couldn’t care. I needed something to quench the fire in my blood and the cool tile and warm water were helping. What I really needed was Backdraft inside of me, though.

  Our mouths locked in desperation as he held me aloft. We weren’t quite lining up, with our height disparity, and to do so we would lose our ability to kiss as easily as this, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything but having this man inside me. I was fevered and flushed and he was pretty much the only cure I could think of. He lowered me enough and slid his cock along the lips of my sex and I moaned, writhing against him, drawing in a sharp breath when the head of his dick penetrated me, slipping just inside. I groaned and he eased all the way in, hitching me up, shaking with the effort before pressing me back into the wall and thrusting up into me with a satisfied grunt.

  It was the first time we fucked rather than made love and I think it was precisely what we needed in that moment. With every hard thrust, he grunted and I panted. The illicitness of it seemed to work out some of our mutual frustrations at the current circumstances we found ourselves in that were wholly beyond our control. At least, it did for me. I didn’t know if it was helping him at all, but I certainly hoped it was.

  He bowed his forehead to mine and squeezed his eyes shut, just concentrating on the feel of me and I ran my fingers through his hair, slicking it back from his forehead, thin runnels of gray water seeping from it and running down his face. He hadn’t really scrubbed clean from the fire and my heart broke for him all over again.

  I tipped my head back and gasped, overcome by the feel of him running over that spot inside me, the heavy weight of orgasm taking up residence low in my body, just waiting to drop and take me plummeting with it. I held off, tried to make this last, wishing that I could stay like this forever, but alas… all good things must come to an end, right?

  I loved how in tune with my body he was. He knew just as surely as I did how close I was and when I tightened around him, he moaned and said, “That’s it, baby, come on,” as he eased his way in and out of me, expending the effort to keep the pace that’d brought me to the brink in the first place. I pressed my mouth to his skin and bit gently but firmly as my last vestiges of control were ripped away and I was sent hurtling out into the ether. I was vaguely aware of him making a triumphant noise, before burying himself into me completely.

  “Hold onto me, baby. That’s it. Hang on tight.”

  I clung to him, locking my legs around his lean hips as he carefully lowered us both to the shower floor, sitting with me in his lap as the water beat down on us both. He laughed slightly and I smiled at how he seemed lighter, whatever weight of sadness he’d borne when I’d arrived lessened, but not completely gone.

  He brought my forehead to his as we panted in the shower spray, and closed his eyes, like he was silently communing with me, absorbing my essence as if it would be the last time for a long time that he would be in my presence.

  I instantly felt guilty. I’d walked away from him, disappeared. I always did that when I was wounded or hurt. I locked myself away to internalize it all and suffer alone and in silence because that was the way things should be. You didn’t share your problems. You didn’t spread your misery around to poison the lives of the ones you loved. You handled your shit. On your own. Like an adult. Right?

  “I’m gonna fix this, babe. I’m gonna fix it, I promise you,” he panted against my skin and I leaned back, capturing his face between my hands.

  “There’s nothing for you to fix, Backdraft. These are my problems, this is my mess, and I need to clean it up. Not you. I’m just so sorry you were dragged into it.”

  “No way baby, this is our mess and I’ll help deal with it. You aren’t doing it all alone anymore. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  I felt my shoulders drop under the weight of what he was consigning himself to and I couldn’t let him do it. The urge to protect him and nurture him entirely too strong.

  I felt my expression fracture and shatter into lines of pain. I couldn’t stop it. I just hurt so badly for the both of us and I needed to put a stop to his crazy talk.

  “I don’t want to fight about this,” I whispered, scratching my nails gently along his scalp as I smoothed back his hair. He closed his eyes and melted a little under that touch and I smiled faintly, loving that I could bring him even a tiny amount of peace while the storm raged all around us.

/>   “Then don’t fight me,” he said pointedly, opening his eyes and fixing me with a somber stare.

  I shook my head and sighed.

  “The PR firm is handling it. They’ve advised me to take a break. I shouldn’t even be here but I couldn’t stay away…” I closed my eyes as he took one of my hands and reverently kissed the palm.

  “Let’s get cleaned up and you some clothes, and talk about this with our clothes on?” he said and I smiled.

  “I kind of like having the home-field advantage here,” I said rolling my hips a little, even though he’d gone soft some time ago and he’d slipped out of me.

  “Yeah, well, we know it can’t last forever, I guess,” he said and it held a bitter edge.

  “I hate living there now.” I blurted the confession unexpectedly, even to me, and some of the burden I carried lifted; the tightness in my chest loosening slightly.

  “Ah, shit, yeah,” he muttered and gathered me close. “I could literally kill a motherfucker for that.” His words, though all bravado and we both knew it, were still comforting. There was nothing more violating than being photographed in your own bedroom by someone outside it. That was something I didn’t think could or would happen to me, let alone on the forty-fourth floor. I mean, did no one believe in privacy anymore?

  I clung to Backdraft and took the shelter he offered, knowing it was fleeting and that all too soon I would have to go back to reality. He got up, helping me up, and we showered for real with soap and shampoo. He bundled me up in a large towel and I wrapped my hair in a second. He dressed in a clean uniform from his locker, kissed me soundly, and took my wet clothing out of the room in search for something dry for me to put on.

  I blushed furiously, knowing that I was bound for yet another walk of shame through his coworkers. Although, compared to the last one? This was going to be a cakewalk.

  I sat hunched on the end of one of the benches in front of the locker banks outside of the showers and felt my anxiety rise the longer Backdraft was away from me. I was slightly frustrated but not surprised at how much I had grown to rely on him in such a short amount of time. My mother had pretty much raised me to be co-dependent and though I usually had a better handle on it than this, with recent events, I honestly just wanted to find a better adult, an adultier-adult than I was to just fix the situation.