Too Near the Fire

by Lindsay McKenna

  Leah shivered. “That was too close. Down at the academy they drilled it into our heads that running out of air could make us panic.”

  “They have the Situation Maze down there. That kind of training should help some,” he offered.

  Leah recalled the maze. It was a house trailer that was designed to put rookie fire fighters through a series of tests to simulate actual conditions in a burning structure. Their face masks were taped to make them “blind.” Like everyone else, she had crawled around on her hands and knees for nearly half an hour groping her way through a series of mazelike problems. “Yes, and I did pretty well.”

  “Did you run out of air?”

  She nodded. “Just like everybody else. I made it to the window and I felt the air going. I started to release the hose from the regulator so I could breathe but the instructor yelled at me. I spent another twenty seconds gasping and clawing to find that damn window.”

  Gil smiled. “Did you?”

  “No. The instructor told me to release the hose. I never thought a breath of fresh air could smell so good.” She frowned. “It felt even better yesterday when you pulled that mask off my face.” She lifted her chin and stared deeply into his eyes. “I owe you my life.”

  He smiled lazily. Slowly, he brought her into his arms, hands resting on her shoulders. “There’s only one way you can repay me, lady,” he murmured enigmatically.

  Her lips parted. “I don’t understand….”

  Gil raised one eyebrow, merriment in his blue eyes once again. “Think about it” was all he said.

  * * *

  The day had turned hot and humid by mid-afternoon. Thunderclouds were building up in the west, promising the possibility of rain by early evening. Leah was drying the dishes from lunch when Gil ambled back into the kitchen.

  “Sure you’re ready to go visit those children?”

  Her green eyes darkened with the memory of their pale ashen faces. “Yes, I have to,” she said, almost to herself.

  He came over, drawing her near, resting his head against her hair. “Okay,” he murmured, “it might be good therapy for you. Every fire fighter has to deal with his or her emotions when it comes to children.”

  “You don’t have to come,” Leah protested.

  “Are you kidding? Come on, we’ll take the pickup.”

  Her face was damp with perspiration as they entered the air-conditioned coolness of the hospital. Gil had mentioned that burn cases were airlifted by helicopter to a major burn center in Pittsburgh. But other than that, the hospital was equipped to handle all major injuries. At the desk the nurse directed them to the pediatric floor where the two children were being kept for observation.

  Gil clasped her hand, giving her needed strength. Leah looked up at him gratefully. How did he know that she needed him at this moment? Her heart blossomed with even more love, if that were possible. They halted at the door. Leah recognized the mother instantly. Gil offered the woman a friendly smile as they quietly entered the room. Both boys were sleeping peacefully under their oxygen tents.

  “Mrs. Barbara Griffin?” he asked softly.

  The woman rose and tiptoed out of the room to join them. She wore a perplexed expression on her face as she looked first at him and then over at Leah. “Yes?”

  Leah reached out to touch her arm. “We’re with the fire department, Mrs. Griffin. Gil and I wanted to come by and see how your boys were doing,” she explained.

  Barbara Griffin’s eyes widened. She was pale, with dark circles beneath each of her eyes. “They’re going to be fine. Are you the ones who rescued Billy and Tad?” she asked, her voice strained.

  Leah’s throat constricted with sudden emotion as she saw the other woman’s tears gathering in her dark brown eyes. “Well—”

  “Leah and Apache rescued your boys, Mrs. Griffin,” Gil interjected.

  “Oh,” Barbara sobbed, gripping Leah’s arm. “I struck at you! I’m sorry. That was horrible of me. It’s just that—”

  Leah held her hand tightly. “I understand, Mrs. Griffin.”

  “Please, call me Barbara. Oh, God, I owe you so much. All of the fire department,” she sobbed softly.

  Leah traded an anguished look with Gil, who promptly put his arm around the woman, leading her to the nurse’s station. The elevator doors opened and Duke Saxon and Apache walked out. Introductions were made by Gil, and Barbara gripped each one of their hands, thanking the two male fire fighters.

  “What is this?” Apache demanded, grinning broadly over at Leah and Gil. “You two just had to check on the boys, didn’t you?”

  “I see we weren’t the only ones,” Leah noted.

  “What are you doing back on duty?”

  “Ah, my old lady was sitting there wringing her hands, smothering me with all this extra attention just because I got choked on a little smoke,” Apache admitted. He grinned carelessly, his brown eyes twinkling. “Angie was pretty upset over the whole thing, but I told her I wanted to get back into the swing of things, to keep from getting jumpy about the near miss.”

  Leah noticed that Duke was also in the fire fighter’s uniform of serge blue trousers and light blue shirt. Apache carried a portable radio on his belt in case a fire call came in.

  “How are the kids?” Apache wanted to know.

  “They’re sleeping now,” Gil explained, “and they’ve got normal color.”

  Apache clapped his hands together. “Great!” He came over to Leah and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You did a hell of a job, Leah.”

  Gil frowned. “You should have pushed her out the window first,” he growled.

  “Things got pretty intense in there, Lieutenant. I had to leave the wall to find the second kid and got disoriented. If Leah hadn’t come back for us…” He gave Leah a wink. “Like I said, I owe you.”

  Barbara Griffin had dried her eyes and was listening to the easy banter between the fire fighters. She continued to wring her white handkerchief between her frail, thin fingers. “You all seem to take this incident so lightly,” she said, her voice hoarse. “How can you? You could have died, too.”

  Leah traded a look with Apache. The Italian fire fighter gave the biggest grin he could possibly muster. “Not with Leah as my partner, ma’am. This lady is somebody you can really trust in a tight situation. She had everything under control. And she’s really the one who saved the boys. Me? I was out crawling around on my hands and knees trying to find the wall again after I located your second son.”

  Leah blushed beneath the compliment, thrilled to hear how Apache felt. None of the fire fighters had ever given her a direct compliment before. Finally the last of the barriers had been removed between her and the men. She was no longer looked upon as a woman fighting fires, but rather as a fellow fire fighter. Her heart swelled with elation and she blinked back tears. Even Duke Saxon grudgingly nodded his massive head. Leah noticed that the hate no longer gleamed in his eyes when he regarded her.

  Suddenly the fire alarm sounded on the radio Apache carried at his belt. They all exchanged a tense look as he picked it up and called into the station.

  “This is a three-alarm signal thirteen,” the dispatcher said.

  Leah drew in a sharp breath. A three-alarm meant that there was a fire somewhere in the city that demanded every available fire fighter, whether on or off duty.

  “Roger the signal thirteen. We’re here at the hospital with Lieutenant Gerard and Leah.”

  “The chief is rolling now. He says to get to the station and pick up your gear.”

  All of them moved quickly toward the elevator. “Roger.”

  “Engine twenty-four will be ready to take you to the scene,” the dispatcher said, signing off.

  Silence dropped upon them in the elevator. Leah’s heart was beginning a slow pound. Each fire fighter’s face became devoid of emotion, their eyes intent, mouths set. She looked up at Gil.

  “Where do you think it is?” she asked, knowing that the location of a fire was never broadcas
t over the air. If it were broadcast, there would be every reason to expect unnecessary gawkers at the scene, creating traffic congestion that might impede the progress of the fire engines and ambulances.

  Gil lost his implacable look as he gazed down at her. His chest constricted with very real fear. Leah had not recovered physically or emotionally from the experience of yesterday’s fire. She wasn’t ready to work yet, but he knew she wouldn’t stand by idly in the three-alarm blaze. Grimly he pursed his lips. “Probably one of the five-story apartment buildings,” he admitted.

  Leah’s eyes widened and she gasped, “Oh, God…no!”

  None of them said anything as they raced from the hospital to the fire department car. Apache slid into the driver’s seat, throwing on the switch for the lights and siren as they roared out of the parking lot.

  Leah clenched her fists in her lap, her mind racing ahead. Apartment building fires were notoriously dangerous. There would be adults, elderly people, and children to think about rescuing or evacuating. She broke into a cold sweat. That meant air pak again. She would have to enter smoke-filled apartments with a partner and search for people…

  Gil gripped her hand. “Leah…”

  “No. I’m going!”

  His eyes darkened with pain. She had spoken with such force and conviction that there was no way he could talk her out of it. “It’s going to be bad,” he warned.

  Her green eyes narrowed. “Tell me what fire isn’t?”

  His grip tightened on her hand. “There might be children involved,” he warned, his voice barely audible.

  “I can handle it,” she ground out.

  When they arrived at the station Leah’s training took over. Everything became a blur as she went through the automatic motions of getting her gear, leaping on the pumper, and riding to the scene of the fire. As she stepped off the beavertail, Leah felt her emotions go dead. No longer was she trembling from adrenaline as she looked up at the five-story apartment building. She took in the fact that smoke was pouring out of the third-story region. A new calmness invaded her as she walked around the corner of the pumper with Apache to await Gil’s instructions.

  Every available piece of fire apparatus from the city as well as from three volunteer fire departments outside city limits was on the scene. A dozen white-and-yellow hoses lay like fat slugs across the lawn and parking lot. They were strung from the whining, screaming engines or from nearby hydrants, pouring thousands of gallons of water into the fire. Leah shut off her hearing to the cries, the sirens, and the crowds of gathering people. Sweat trickled down her temples. The heavily insulated turn-out gear was stifling in the ninety-degree summer heat.

  Gil met her solemn eyes. “You and Apache get on air pak,” he ordered tightly.

  This is it, she thought, moving through the motions of sliding the forty-pound air pak across her shoulders and strapping it tightly to her body. A new sense of steadiness made her feel even more sure of her capabilities. Apache had lost his smile. He gave her a nod of his head as he finished tightening the air mask over his face.

  “Let’s go, Leah,” he yelled, gripping her arm with his gloved hand.

  Gil put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Leah,” he called.

  She halted, made a half turn toward him. Her heart wrenched in her breast as she saw the worry etched on his grim features. She reached out and touched his arm. “I’ll be okay,” she called loudly through the mask.

  He took a step closer. “I love you, just remember that.”

  Tears scalded her eyes and she nodded at him mutely. “And I love you….”

  He compressed his mouth, then gave them a nod. “Okay, get going. Apache, the chief wants you two up on the third floor. Just be damn careful.”

  * * *

  It was seven-thirty in the evening and the temperature was hovering around eighty-two degrees. Leah sat tiredly on the curb with Apache at her side. Her face was streaked with gray smoke. Tendrils of her dark hair had escaped from beneath the helmet liner that framed her face. She was numb with exhaustion just like every other fire fighter at the scene of the seven-hour fire. Tiredly, she pulled the helmet off, freeing her hair, feeling the cooler air hit her hot, sweating skin.

  “Oh, God, I never knew air could feel so divine,” she whispered, allowing the helmet to rest at her side on the curb.

  Apache barely gave a nod. He was resting his head against his drawn-up knees. She placed an arm around his drooping shoulders. “You okay?” she asked, her voice hoarse and raw.

  “Yeah…just so damn tired I could fall over. Man, that was a hell of a fire.”

  She licked her dry, cracked lips. “It was. But we got everybody out. That’s what counts.” It was interesting that all fire fighters saw the success or failure of their efforts in terms of saving lives, not property. Leah gazed wearily at the line of pumpers, most of which were now shutting down. They had contained the fire to four apartments. And how many people had they rescued? She lost count of how many times she and Apache had shuttled back and forth down the smoky halls finding trapped people and taking them to the safety of the nearest exit stairs. Dully, all she could recall was going through one tank of air after another. The only rest they had had was the time it took to slide one tank out of the harness and to put another one in. At those times, someone would thrust a glass of water into their hands so that they wouldn’t become completely dehydrated.

  “Well,” Apache finally muttered, “you feel like walking back to the pumper and stowing these air paks?”

  She didn’t want to move. She didn’t know if she had the strength to stand. Her mind was occupied with only one thought: Where was Gil? Had he gone into the area of the fire or had he stayed back and acted as one of the tactical officers who directed the movements of the fire fighters? She hoped the latter. Finally she got up enough strength to answer.

  “We may as well go back now, I guess. Think they’ll have some water for us?”

  Apache grunted and stood slowly. “I hope so. Sam’s pretty good about finding some for us when we’ve been working a fire like this. Come on, grab my hand.” He put out his dirty, charcoal-smeared glove toward her.

  Leah grasped it. Her knees trembled as she straightened up. The air pak hung heavily on her slack shoulders, and it felt like someone was pushing her into the ground because of it. They shuffled silently for more than a block before reaching the pumper. Leah was always amazed at the number of policemen and onlookers who milled around. The fire scene had become something akin to a carnival. She was too tired to even be angry about it; instead she searched for Gil.

  Sam greeted them as they trudged wearily up to the rear of the pumper. “You look bushed,” he observed, helping them both out of their air paks.

  “Just a little,” Leah said, unsnapping her turn-out coat and shrugging out of it. Mournfully she looked down at her clothes, the same blouse and slacks she had put on that morning: they were ruined. Her hair was plastered against her skull, wet from the monumental physical exertion she had demanded from her body. “Where’s Gil?” she asked Sam.

  “Gil? He’s up on the third floor with the chief checking out the extent of the fire damage.”

  “Did he stay down here most of the time?”

  “No. The chief ordered him into the fire to direct it. The chief coordinated everybody else out here.”

  Her green eyes widened with silent alarm. Apache turned his head to the left, studying her. “He’s okay, Leah.” A grin pulled at his mustached mouth. “You kinda like the guy, don’t you?”

  She looked forlornly toward the apartment building in the distance. “Just sort of,” she returned softly, no longer caring if anyone knew of their love for each other.

  “I got that hint when Gil grabbed you before we left to go up on the third floor. I thought he was going to cry.”

  She wearily rubbed her face, feeling the grit upon it. “He was worried that I wouldn’t be able to stand the physical demands because of the fire we fought yesterday,” sh
e explained. Fighting two huge fires back to back always made the situation more dangerous for a fire fighter.

  Apache got up, stretching his wiry body in slow motion. His brown eyes danced with amusement. “You think I’m some kinda of dunce, Stevenson? Don’t you think I know love when I see it?” He hit her shoulder lightly with his fist. “I’m your partner, remember? Partners know each other pretty well. So cut the bit about you being tired from yesterday.”

  Her teeth were white against her dirt-streaked face when she grinned. “What do you want? A confession?”

  Sam interrupted, bringing them paper cups filled with water. They eagerly consumed four cups each before satisfying their thirst. “You two just sit here and rest,” Sam ordered. “There’s not much to do until Gil and the chief get back.”

  Apache leaned back against the truck, closing his eyes. “So when’s the big day, Leah?”

  “What?”

  He opened one eye and looked at her. “Remember, I’m your partner.”

  She smiled wearily, running her fingers through her bedraggled hair. “He hasn’t asked me, Apache,” she admitted.

  He crossed his arms against his chest and grinned confidently. “He will.”

  They sat there another half hour before Gil returned. Leah rose to her feet as soon as she saw him break free of the crowd. His yellow turn-out gear was dirtied and smeared with black stains. Leah anxiously perused his features, aware that he was just as exhausted as they were. He was also in air pak and she started forward, realizing his shoulders were slumped with tiredness. A hundred questions whirled in her mind but she was intent on only one thing: reaching his side to help him off with the gear.