Broken Promises (Burning Mistakes Book 1)

by Aimee Noalane

  Vince grabs the CB radio while I park the truck at a safe distance. “This is Bankes from Engine Three. The household seems to be a split-level home with a separate garage. Flames are visible through the east side windows and heavy smoke is coming out the back. Over.”

  The sound of glass windows shattering under the pressure of the heat from the blistering flames is the first thing we hear when we open our doors. I’m pretty sure he and I have the same petrified expression on our faces when we jump out of the cab. Months of training, weekly drills, hours of working out; every time, they seem useless.

  Feels like it was just last week that Vince and I were starting our training. I still remember how no matter who we had as a teacher or what class we were attending, the speech always started the same way.

  ‘Never underestimate fire. Every incident is different. Even though houses and buildings seem similar, they are not the same. Smoke is your worst enemy and finally, and most importantly, no flames are alike. They are hypocritical. Always treat them as your worst enemy.’

  I snicker. Fire has been my enemy for as long as I can remember.

  “Hang tight, Engine Three, we’ll be there in less than three,” Asa calls out through the radio.

  Vince heads for the nearest fire hydrant while moving to the side of the truck to grab the tip of the pipe. From the corner of my eye, I notice a woman running out from the back door. She’s covered in soot from head to toe and has a baby in her arms.

  The mother’s piercing eyes meet mine. “I—I—I couldn’t find him.”

  Please don’t be unconscious, please don’t be unconscious.

  A loud cry slices through the air and I expel the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding in. The last thing I wanted to do is CPR on a baby. I did it once before and although I did save his life, the feeling of his ribs cracking under my fingers when I did the second set of chest compressions will haunt me forever.

  Before I have any time to react, her baby is being pulled out from her arms by one of the paramedics who just arrived on scene, but she clutches onto him. They try their best to calm the woman down, but her desperate wails keep growing louder. It’s almost as if the shock is rooted too deep for her to realize what’s going on. A fleece blanket is wrapped around her, but the second it touches her shoulder, she shoves her child in their arms and heads straight for her burning house.

  Don’t do it. Don’t fucking do it.

  As if she can hear me, her eyes lock with mine.

  Through our silent exchange, I try to give her the courage to let us do our jobs. My eyes vow that everything is going to be okay, but the longer I stare at her the more I come to understand that the panic in her eyes has nothing to do with her baby’s life or hers. She’s trying to make me understand something that she isn’t able to put into logical words.

  I can hear my name being called out in the distance, but there’s something about her that has me frozen in place.

  Those eyes… frantic, petrified. I know them all too well.

  A loud splintering sound breaks our connection, and another desperate cry ruptures out of her. Without giving it a second thought, she leaps toward the burning house. I drop everything and lunge at her.

  Arms wrapped tightly around her small figure, I try to prevent her from getting back inside, but she fights back.

  “Let me go,” she yells. “He’s going to die.”

  Her words slice right through my core and hit my heart.

  “Engine Three, this is Engine One. We’re less than two minutes out. Dispatch has just been informed by a close neighbor that a family of three lives in the house. Can either one of you confirm their presence outside? Over.”

  “Negative, Chief,” Bankes confirms, but he’s wrong. He’s still on the other side of the truck, so he can’t see the two people who made it out.

  Three people...

  Fuck.

  “Where?” I grip her shoulder and give her a rough shake. “Where is his room?”

  “Downstairs—back door,” she utters in relief.

  Her small frame collapses to the ground when I release her from my hold, but I don’t take the time to call out a paramedic. My legs have a mind of their own. Without warning to my partner, I leap into a fast jog and head straight for the backdoor of the house.

  One foot inside and I know it’s far worse than I expected. The fire has ravaged the living room on the first floor and is rapidly spreading toward the kitchen and basement stairwell. Even from up here, I can tell that somewhere in the front of the house, the flames have begun piercing through the flooring, and moving onto the basement ceiling. Laminated floors, I shake my head. Cheaper but far more dangerous when they light up, especially when it comes to the toxic fumes.

  I stop about three seconds to assess the risk I’m about to take. The truth is, I’m not fully trained yet. I’m not supposed to go headfirst into a fire zone. But if I don’t go, the kid has no chance of surviving and his death will be on my shoulders.

  My jaw clenches tight at the thought.

  I have enough of those, already.

  The heat coming at me as I carefully start descending the steps is so intense, sweat is dripping down the side of my face. By the time I reach the basement floor, the black smoke is too dense, I can’t see. I light up my headlamp, hoping the kid isn’t too far from the staircase, and start crawling the floor in search of a small body.

  “Dude, we need to get out of here, ASAP. That ceiling is either about to light up or collapse over our heads.” I turn around and see Vince standing a couple feet away.

  A tinge of frustration courses through me, and I stand. “What the fuck are you doing here? Get out!”

  “Really?” he shouts back. Irritation and mockery transpire his words.

  “Quit being stupid and get out before something happens, Vincent. You weren’t supposed to follow me here. I got this.”

  “Shut up, asshole, as far as we both know, you’re in no place to be lecturing me on what I’m supposed to or not supposed to do.”

  “The last thing I need right now is two juvenile brothers-in-law arguing about something they both shouldn’t be doing,” Jackson scolds. “And you can bet your probie asses that we’re talking about this later.”

  “Of course we are,” I mumble, glaring at Vince.

  “Don’t you fucking sass me, Lambert, your line is pretty damn thin already.” He’s beyond angry we didn’t follow protocol and put ourselves in danger, but I can’t help noticing the sense of pride in his voice. “Right now, I’m down two men outside, and I can’t send anyone in to help you. I’m relying my trust on your training, so don’t fuck it up. Talk to each other. Find the kid, and for the love of God, get out safe and in one piece. Do you copy?”

  “I copy,” Vince and I respond at the same time, grinning at each other.

  We both hit the floor, but quickly give up on our hope of finding the kid nearby. While I search the playroom corners, Vincent checks the second living room and bathroom.

  “Fuck. Where is he?” Vince asks, joining me.

  My brows narrow, trying to make out our surroundings.

  “Think he might be in those rooms down there?” he asks, pointing to the two closed doors we can barely see. If it weren’t for the reflection of our headlights on the knobs, I would have missed them.

  “You take the left, I’ll get the right.”

  Vince nods and I take the lead.

  “I can’t see shit down here? Can you?” my partner complains.

  “No. Are you at the door yet?”

  “Yeah.”

  I glance over my shoulder and see Vince’s shadow. “On three?”

  “One. Two. Three.” We simultaneously knock our doors down, give each other a thumbs up and go our separate ways.

  He’s here. I see him right there, lying unconscious on the floor next to the bedroom window, and instead of calling it in, I freeze.

  I can’t move.

  I can’t talk.

  I’m
fucking stuck on my own two feet, cemented to the floor before I’m even able to cross the threshold.

  “Micah?”

  I blink. Whoever’s voice it is, it sounds too distant to be real.

  “Micah?”

  A rough nudge bumps against my shoulder, snapping me back to reality. By the time I realize what was going on, my best friend is on his knees, scooping up the unconscious body in his arms.

  Fuck, I’m an asshole.

  Vince stands up, straightens his spine and glances over his shoulder to meet my gaze. I’m about to apologize for checking out, but he just shakes his head, forgiving my moment of absence before I can say anything. “Whatever it was, I don’t care. I’m just glad to have you back.”

  I nod because it’s pretty much the only thing I can do.

  “Are you good to get us out of here?” he asks, and I step aside, clearing a safe path for him. He lowers his head to look at the boy in his arms. Relief hits us both when we see the kid’s lashes flicker. “Call it in.”

  “Command, this is Lambert from Engine Three. We found the third party. I repeat, we found the kid and we’re heading toward the back door.” I rub my gloved hand over his head. “Now all we need is to get you out of this place and into your mother’s arms.”

  I take the lead, making sure the path is safe and clear for Vince. About midway through retracing our steps, I knock my knee and stumble over something sturdy.

  “Are you okay?” Vince asks from behind with a slight smirk in his tone.

  I stand, about to tell him to fuck off, but just as I start grumbling my response, a bright spark followed by a loud explosion interrupts me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Micah

  Present

  “Vince?” I cough out with my chest against the floor.

  Silence.

  Each muscle burns as I try to roll onto my back. My body is aching everywhere, and between the heat and the ringing in my ears, I can’t concentrate on anything.

  Lifting myself on my elbows, I scan the darkness in search of the other two, but the cloud of dust and smoke around me are making it impossible to see what’s going on. Everything that isn’t dripping wet, is in flames. Smoke is seeping through the carbonated holes in the ceiling. We need to get out of here a.fucking.sap. “Bankes.”

  “What’s going on in there? We just heard some sort of backfire,” Jackson barks in the CB radio.

  Backfire? That wasn’t backfire, that was a damn explosion. “I think the electrical box might have just lit up and detonated—Flashover, I think, but I don’t know for sure.”

  “You two need to get out of there. Now. Do you have the kid?”

  I detect his small contorted frame right in front of me and crawl over to him hoping Vince isn’t too far. He’s alone. “Yeah, I got him. How many buses do you have out there, Chief? The boy definitely needs one. He’s passed out and his body looks like it’s in pretty bad shape.”

  “We have two, I’ll call another one in. Grab him and get out.”

  “Have you heard anything from Bankes? It’s snowing dirt and ash down here, I can’t see shit.” I ask, thinking it might just be a connection issue.

  “We’re looking for a signal. Radio silence from here, you?”

  Fuck. “Same.”

  I force my eyes shut for a short second to breathe away the dreading feeling in the pit of my stomach, and a moaning grouse catches my attention. I wipe the dust from off my mask and spot Vince’s head, lying face up to the ceiling.

  “Vince?” Choking on both my air and fear, I slither over to him. “Vince, answer me.”

  I lift myself on all fours, trying to get a better view of his body, and that’s when I see it: he’s pinned. He’s pinned to the damn floor by the support beam.

  “Talk to me, Lambert,” Jackson orders.

  I try. I try to explain, but I can’t get the words to come out.

  I glance back.

  The kid is lying next to me, unconscious.

  Vince is at my feet unable to move.

  I close my eyes and a heart-wrenching howl blares out of me.

  “I can’t,” I whisper to no one but myself. “You can’t make me choose.”

  “Micah.” There’s panic in my boss’ tone. “Talk to me, kid. Tell me what you see. Tell me what’s going on.”

  I force my eyes shut even tighter. Every line of judgment is blurred. This can’t be happening. This can’t be fucking happening.

  I feel a light tap on my forearm and lower my gaze before shifting lower to stare into my best friend’s petrified pupils. “I’m sorry, Vince.”

  He gives me a barely visible shake of the head. “Go.”

  “I—I can’t.” I grip Vince’s hand. “I can’t just leave you here, you’ll fucking die.” The words slice the back of my throat, causing a sob to grip at my vocal cords.

  This never would have happened if you hadn’t gone in, in the first place.

  This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t frozen in place and did your job.

  This wouldn’t have happened if you’d never agreed to take this stupid job.

  This wouldn’t have happened if you held your promise…

  His eyes flutter.

  “Vince. Vince,” I repeat when he doesn’t respond. “Bankes,” I yell louder this time, shaking his body.

  He stares at me. “Micah, go.”

  “I’m coming back.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Stay the fuck alive, Vince. I’m coming back to get you.”

  “I know.” Maybe I heard it. Maybe I read it on his lips. Maybe I imagined it… who the hell knows. What I do know is that right now his breathing is slow, and my feet have a mind of their own, making their way toward the kid.

  “Chief,” I reiterate my conversation with Vince. “Vincent is passed out. The support beam fell on him after the explosion. He’s pinned to the floor. I need someone to meet me in the stairs and grab the kid. The easiest access will be from the back door.”

  “Forget it, Lambert, I’m ordering you to take the kid outside. Paramedics are waiting for you. I’m sending James and Asa in there to bring Bankes out.”

  “No.” I gasp on the dark cloud as I clamber up the stairs.

  “I’m not giving you a choice, Micah. Get the hell out of there now.”

  Fuck him. I got us into this mess, I’ll get us out of it. “Chief, with all due respect: fuck you and your stupid orders. The basement looks like a damn warzone right now and you’ll be putting anyone who comes down here in danger because they will spend more time looking for Vincent than anything else. I’m going back whether you want me to or not.”

  “Lambert—” he warns, but I cut him off.

  “You know I’m right, Chief. I got this. Trust me.”

  “Lambert, I’m at the door,” James calls out, and as soon as we make eye contact, he drops the pipe to take the kid out of my arms. “Naomi, I have Jason, but I’ll need you to take over here with Asa and help control the kitchen flames while Micah goes back down there. The flames have pierced through the floor and if we want any chance of getting these two out alive, we need to try to tame the damn thing.”

  “Ten-four, James. I’m heading toward the back, now.” Naomi’s voice screeches in my receiver.

  James eyes me before turning his back. “Get him.”

  I’m not walking out of here without him.

  James wasn’t kidding, by the time I make it back down, things are twice as bad. I climb over the debris, trying as best as I can not to get hurt, and hope the appliances won’t fall over my head. As I make my way to Vince’s body, I move things around and clear myself a safe path back to the staircase.

  “Need some help?” Asa. A sigh of relief leaves me when I feel his tap on my shoulder. As much as I wanted to believe I could save Vincent on my own, I know there is no way I’ll be able to get him out from under the beam by myself.

  “About twenty feet south-west.” I point in the direction we need to go, and he gives me a quick nod. Asa
is no more than a year older than I am, but he’s been doing his job since he turned eighteen. He has more than five years of experience on me, and aside from Vince, there’s no one else I’d rather be doing this job with. “I need you to lift the beam so I can pull him out.”

  It takes him a few tries before he’s able to raise the beam long enough from me to slide Vince’s dead weight from under it. The second I rest his back against the floor to stabilize him, I notice the blood gushing out of his punctured leg.

  “Fuck.”

  Asa circles me and tosses me his escape rope. “I’ll take his upper body. Tie that up around his upper thigh so he doesn’t bleed out before we make it outside.”

  I nod and follow his command.

  “When you’re sure the knot is safe and secure, grab that same leg and cross it over the other in a way where you’ll be able to lift him by the seam of his pants. We lift on three.”

  By the time we make it up the stairs, two members of our crew and three paramedics are at the door ready to take over Vincent’s dead weight. Chief is standing at a safe distance, watching me with a relieved scowl, and whatever we have to say to each other is done through a silent exchange before Vince is being stripped away from my hold.

  I had no intention of letting my best friend go, but at some point, the EMTs are piling up over of me and I have no choice but to release my grip on him.

  Not wanting to be kept away from my partner, I trail right behind them, but I don’t make it ten steps before my legs decide to give up on me.

  “Micah,” Naomi calls out when she sees me fall to my knees.

  “I’m fine,” I reply, gasping. I knew it would be a matter of time before my body gave in. I’m exhausted, worried sick and pissed off at myself for everything that just happened. I lurch my mask as far as I can and take a deep inhale of the hot polluted air.

  “We need to get you on a bus—”

  I shrug off the hand on my shoulder and scowl at who just dared to touch me. “I said I’m fucking fine.”

  Lifting my head, my eyes follow the trail of blood leading up to my best friend’s motionless body. Vince is lying on the pavement far enough from the fire and surrounded by the only people who can help him at this point. One EMT is doing chest compressions, the other two have ripped his pants and are stabilizing his legs and neck. I hate myself even more with every second that passes by.