by C. S. Won
“Has everyone been evacuated?”
“Someone pulled the alarm before things got out of hand, so everyone was able to get out safely.”
“Everyone? You sure no one was left behind?”
“A team tried to comb through the area, but the fire was too much. They’re confident everyone made it out, though. No one is reporting any missing persons.”
“Quelling the fire is all that remains, then?”
“Yep. For once we won’t have to do the heavy lifting.”
Jae saw a troop of firefighters run into the apartment, dragging a long hose at their heels as they began their long march up to the twenty-fourth floor. The chatter amongst the crowd grew louder, some onlookers gasping loudly when a belch of fire shot out through a window. Those in need of medical attention were sequestered from the crowd. EMTs hovered over the injured, attending to their wounds and administering oxygen masks.
Looks like no one was hurt too badly, Jae thought. I’ll take solace in that.
“Where’s my daughter? Lacy! Lacy, where are you?”
Jae turned and saw a woman pushing her way through the crowd, screaming loud enough to almost drown over the sirens. Her face was screwed into panic; a film of fear glazed her eyes. Two police officers moved to block her path, and a struggle ensued. The woman fought to break through while the officers had her in a near chokehold, barking at her to stay back. She writhed and squirmed in the officers’ ironclad grip, but her strength was ferocious and it took everything they had to prevent her from breaking free and running into the burning condo.
Jae and Gabe ran over to her, looking to subdue the situation before it got out of hand.
“What’s the matter, ma’am?” Jae asked.
“My daughter!” She spat out, still struggling to fight. “I can’t find her!”
“Was she not with you when you evacuated?” Gabe asked.
“She was! She was right next to me, but then I turn away for one second and all of a sudden she’s gone. She went back in the condo! You have to find her.”
“How do you know she ran back in?” Jae asked.
“She has a dog that she adores, and when we evacuated we forgot to take him with us. She ran back to get him; I know she did! Please, you must do something.”
“What’s going on here?” Chief McAdams came up behind them, tailed by the rest of their unit.
“This woman claims her daughter ran back in, all the way up to the twenty-fourth floor, to look for her dog,” Jae said.
“How? That’s impossible.”
“Holy shit! Is that her?” A man from the crowd pointed upward. Jae squinted up, placing a hand over his eyes, and scanned the shattered windows for the girl. Another gasp swept the crowd. There she is! The girl had nearly half her body poking out of a window, a small dog gripped tight in her tiny hands. He could just make out her screams for help, and judging by how desperate she sounded, she didn’t have much time.
A much closer scream pierced his ears. The little girl’s mother fainted into an officer’s arms, her eyes rolled up, her face flushed white. They rushed her over to a nearby ambulance.
“How the hell did she even manage to get back up there?” Gabe asked.
“The turntable ladder—can it reach her?” Stephanie asked, looking around.
“No, she’s too high up for the bucket,” the chief said.
“And I don’t see a fire escape close enough to her window,” Jae said.
The chief clicked on his radio. “Station 9, have you been able to subdue the fire yet?”
“We’re doing our best but the entire floor is burning, every damn inch of it. It’s actually spread to the floor above and below it. It’s going to take a while before we can completely kill it,” the person on the other end said. “Why? What do you need?”
“There’s a little girl trapped in one of the rooms.”
“Really? Shit. I’ll send some of my men to find her, then. Which room?”
“No, don’t. Focus on containing the fire. We can’t have it spreading any more than it needs to. I’ll send some of my men to rescue her.”
“You sure about that? It wouldn’t . . .”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing and leave the rest to us.” He clicked his radio off and placed a finger on his bearded chin, face squeezed in deep thought. “Navigating through the fire is a no-go, so we’ll do a roof extract and evacuate from there.” He turned to Jae. “Take Gabe, Stephanie, Dave, Carlos, and Eddy with you up to the rooftop, create an anchor, lower yourself down to her window, and take the girl from there.”
“Me? Are you sure? You don’t want Gabe being point on this?” Jae asked.
“You said you were ready, right? Then show me. Prove that you are.”
Confident as he was in his own abilities, Jae wasn’t sure if this was the right call, but with a girl’s life on the line he didn’t have time to stand around and argue with the chief’s decision. So, he ran over to the truck, rummaged through a side compartment, and produced a lengthy coil of rope. He turned to the people assigned to him, sent them forward with a holler, and then ran up the fire escape attached to the side of the condo.
The Atlanta skyline stretched endlessly. Trees, buildings, and monuments dotted the cityscape; earth-borne spires scraped the silver canvas of the sky. From his rooftop vantage point Jae thought he could see his house, but he couldn’t say with certainty that it was actually his house—or even a house at all. It could have been a rock or a brown hill, for all he knew, but he liked the idea of being able to spot where he lived from such a breathtaking viewpoint, so he decided that it was indeed his house and settled the issue.
The rooftop shook beneath his feet, trembling as if the building had been affected by a strong gust of wind. Down at street level he could barely hear the fire sizzle, but here on the roof its roars were distinct and clear to his ears. It was warm, too—warm enough that he could feel the heat through the concrete and the leather of his boots. He moved away from the edge and went back to his unit.
Stephanie handed him one end of the rope. “Tie this around your waist.”
He took the rope and looped it around his waist, cinching it tight. The others had already done the same, lining up side by side as they checked one another for secure knots. No suitable anchor could be found, and so they had decided to act as a counter-weight for Jae as he made his descent, looping the other end of the rope around the whole group. A risky proposition, but with options limited and their time running low, they had to improvise. With each secured person adding an additional layer of support for the drop, Jae was confident their combined weight would be more than enough to prevent anyone—including himself—from slipping and falling to their death below.
“Remember, Jae, you’ll have plenty of time to secure the kid once we lower you to her, so just take it easy. No need to rush things. Slow and steady wins this race,” Stephanie said, checking the knot around his waist.
“You worried about me?” He asked.
“Of course I am. Now, once you have the kid in place, give us a shout and we’ll lower you two floors down. There’ll be a second team waiting to take the kid.”
“Copy that.”
Stephanie patted him on the shoulder. “Be careful, okay?”
“I will.”
“You ready?” Gabe called out, waving at him.
Jae nodded. Gabe nodded back and directed the others to stay close and to keep a firm grip on the rope. Jae took one step on the ledge and looked at the ground below. More people had gathered since he was down there, filling up almost the entire street from one end to the next. Phones were raised high above their heads, screens flashing bright and aimed right at him. He leaned forward a bit more and saw people streaming in and out of the entrance of the apartment—police officers, firefighters, and civilians all moving at a frantic pace.
Jae looked over his shoulder and gave the thumbs up. His crew returned the gesture, a row of thumbs flashing at him. He took a deep brea
th, said a quick prayer, and stepped over the edge. Swinging in a small arc, his feet found the wall, but it was uneven footing at best. The lack of traction caused his boots to slip. His hands gripped tight around the rope, which served as his lifeline to the world. It tugged at his stomach and bunched against his coat, threaded hemp screeching against Nomex fabric. He stared out at the openness of the sky, at its near-infinite space, and for a moment his sense of direction was nearly lost in this unfamiliar position.
“You okay, Jae?” Gabe asked, voice buzzing through the radio.
Jae shook his head “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m good.”
He drew in a great amount of air and squatted down. Exhaling, he propelled away from the wall and found himself floating out into open, empty space, like a leaf swaying in the wind. The wall rushed back, and he bent his knees at a slight angle to brace himself for impact. His boots thumped against concrete brick. Both feet set firmly against the wall, Jae checked over his shoulder and found the girl. Her tiny head poked out of a window just a few yards down, looking up at him with weary eyes. She was in worse shape than he’d imagined, her left cheek mottled purple and blue by a bruise and the rest of her face covered in large patches of soot. Run ragged by fear and weakened by smoke inhalation, she appeared utterly listless. The puppy she gripped close to her chest looked no better, fur frazzled and dusty, eyes struggling to stay open, and tongue lolling out of its mouth in obvious pain.
“I’m almost there, sweetheart, just stay right where you are,” Jae called down to her. She nodded, not once taking her eyes off of him.
Gabe’s voice resonated from the radio. “Did you gain some weight?”
“No, why?” Jae asked.
“Then why are you so damn heavy? Shit. You need to hurry; we’re struggling up here.”
Jae heard the rope creaking above him, an ominous sound if he’d ever heard on. The rope appeared somehow thinner than the last time he looked at it; although, he wondered if Gabe’s comment was affecting his perception of the situation. Either way, the already urgent situation seemed more urgent than ever. Without any aspirations to find himself spread out on the pavement below, he’d have to work faster.
He bounded down to the girl’s window, two steps at a time. His imminent arrival seemed to inspire renewed energy in the girl, her expression growing more optimistic as he came closer. When he finally made it to her window, she nearly spilled out and tumbled into his arms, ready to escape the hellfire that seethed behind her. She would have fallen to her death if it weren’t for Jae corralling her in, soothing her excitement with calm words and strong hands.
“Are you okay?” He asked, gripping her windowsill for support.
“Yes,” she said. “Please, get me out here.”
“Don’t worry, honey; you’ll be out of here in no time. First, I’ll need to tie this rope around you.” He unlatched a second coil of rope from his hip and unfurled it. “Come closer, honey, and I’ll—”
The rope around his waist tightened its hold, choking the words right out of him. Jae barked out a hoarse, wheezing gasp and pawed at the rope to loosen its hold. What the hell is Gabe doing? The girl leaned through the window and asked him if he was okay. Before he could reply, a shudder went through the length of the rope. Jae lost his grip on the second coil of rope. It tumbled down to the street below. He paused, frozen by an impending fear, of a doom that seemed certain. Every goose bump and rising hair on his skin sensed great peril. He flicked on his radio.
“Gabe, what is—”
He felt his weight drop, as if someone was pulling on his legs. The rope shook with incredible volatility, trembling so hard that he started seeing double. Instinct pressed Jae’s body against the wall, stabilizing the jittering rope. Jae wrapped his arms tight around the edges of the windowsill. He felt a buzzing need to vomit, but he wondered if that was just his heart trying to jump out of his throat.
“Gabe, what the hell is going on? What’s with the rope?” Jae asked.
No reply came. All he heard was a groan, the ragged strain of a man’s voice. He heard more like it in the background, voices growling through great tension.
“Gabe, is everything alright?”
“Shit. The rope, it’s not . . .” More strained growling. “. . . it’s breaking. You’ve got to hurry, before it snaps.”
Breaking? Jae looked up and saw strips of the rope peeling away, one by one, like layers of a banana. What was once a robust and dense coil of rope was now nothing more than a noodle-thin piece of string, hanging on by a literal thread. “Shit.”
“Hold it together, guys!” Gabe screamed out. “Fuck . . . Jae, you’ve got to—”
A loud snap twanged in the air. The rope sagged around his waist, loosening its hold. A gust of wind flew by his head, and with it, a loud whoosh. Jae looked up and saw nothing. The rope was gone, as if it were never there. Only the sky drifted over him, a boundless expanse of grey. He glanced below, knowing what he would find. Just as he feared, there it was, the severed rope dangling beneath him, the ends flayed and split into several hundred small hairs. A gasp swept the crowd below.
Jae heard Gabe’s voice calling out to him from two different places, both through the radio and from the roof. He looked up and saw Gabe leaning over the ledge.
“Jae! Where . . . shit!” Gabe turned around and yelled at someone behind before turning back. “Are you hurt? Is the girl okay?”
“Yeah,” Jae growled into his radio. “She’s still here, and I’m still in one piece. What the hell happened to the rope?”
“It just snapped. Fuck . . . piece of shit! Just stay there, we’re getting more rope from the truck.”
“Stay . . . here?” Jae asked. How long was getting the rope going to take? Without the rope to support him, hanging onto the windowsill became a sudden fight for survival. His arms burned from the strain, and every thump of his heart was harder than the last, sending painful reverberations throughout his chest. He kicked at the wall, desperate to find some kind of traction, but his boots only skidded against the concrete, leaving dark smears behind. Get inside. I have to get inside. It was the only option he had. The burning apartment offered little refuge, but it was better than hanging twenty-four stories above street level where death was certain. Inside, he could at least regroup and think of a solution. Outside, he could do nothing.
The girl, seemingly with the same thought in mind, grabbed his arms and tried to pull him in, her tiny, frail little body doing everything it can to pull a near two hundred–pound man into her room. Even the puppy tried to do its part, yapping its encouragement at him.
“I’m going inside the girl’s room. I can’t continue to hang here,” Jae said.
“Fine, but don’t go anywhere, okay?” Gabe said.
Where could I go? Jae pulled on the windowsill. The mortar around the sill groaned in protest under his weight, but he ignored it. Taking a deep breath, he bent his elbows and gently hoisted himself up toward the smoky innards of the girl’s room. He took to his task in slowly, careful not to rush things and careful not to make the wrong move. A slight deviation could mean the difference between living another day and being crushed and splattered on the pavement below, and he wanted no part of the latter.
As he set one foot into the girl’s room, he heard the cracking of concrete. He paused, frozen by the unfamiliar noises. What the hell was that? He stole a downward glance and saw a complex web of cracks spreading out from underneath his palms. The windowsill was already in the process of splitting and breaking into several fragmented pieces. Below that, a fissure was running down the length of the building, traveling all the way down to street level, shrieking as it split like forked lightning.
How? The support from the windowsill was fading fast, if not already faded. In his hands, it felt more pebble and dust than a slab of concrete. His arms shook, fighting to stabilize themselves in the face of a weakening foundation. The groans grew louder, filling his ears with the whines of dying concrete. Shit, shit, shit, s
hit, shit. First day back on the job and already everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. About the only thing left to finalize this pitiful return would be the complete and utter failure to rescue the girl, which at this point looked certain. But at least they were both still alive, and as long as they drew breath, Jae still had a shot of salvaging this operation, as a long shot as that was.
Jae launched his body into the girl’s room. The smoke and the heat took him in, their touch as familiar as Madeline’s. He landed rough on his shoulder, a plume of dust and ash erupting around him, and tumbled around in a rolling heap, coming to a stop a few feet away on his hands and knees. The world spun for a moment. He fought for clarity, coughing into a gloved hand.
The little girl rushed over to him. “Are you okay?” She asked.
Jae nodded, wiping his mouth. “I’m fine, sweetheart. How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay.” The puppy in her arms whined. The little girl frowned. “Are we leaving?”
He nodded the affirmative. “Yes. They’re bringing some more rope over, so we should be out of here in no time.” He coughed again. He just hoped it was soon enough. A thick, soupy layer of smoke draped the room from wall to wall, threatening to overtake them. He had to press as tight as he could against the floor for any semblance of breathable air. Outside her bedroom door, he could hear the roar of the fire, that distinct crackle of flames fighting to get in. If Gabe didn’t deliver soon, he feared the worst would come to pass.
“Shit!” He heard Gabe shout from his radio. “You idiot, why didn’t you bring a longer one?”
A voice Jae didn’t recognize spoke up. “I didn’t have time to measure the damn thing. I just grabbed the first rope I could find and ran my ass up the fire escape.”
“What’s going on, Gabe?” Jae asked.
“This incompetent, dumb motherfucker brought the shortest length of rope I’ve ever seen. It’s completely useless, just like this guy.”
“Fuck you. You never said how long—”