by M. A. Grant
The radio continues its warnings. The fire’s spreading and the hydrant we tapped isn’t producing. They’re looking for another. Ty searches to our left, so I go right. The office opens up into a windowed space overlooking the floor. One of the large windows in the back is broken, probably in an effort to climb out when the door became stuck, but the glass is too jagged to navigate. Desks are up against the walls. The first is flimsy particle board and flips easily, clearing my path.
Our calls of ‘Fire department’ go unanswered. Ty moves past me, working towards the back corner. I glance up, looking out the windows of the office toward the main warehouse floor.
My gut pitches. The flames that hadn’t been visible when we’d first entered the building are licking their way toward us. Boxes filling the rows of shelving are alight, papers floating on the heated breezes kicked up by the fire. I take a step forward and my boot connects with something soft.
A quick glance down confirms it’s one of our three missing. The woman doesn’t move when I pull at her feet, dragging her out from under the desk she’d been curled up under. ‘I’ve got one,’ I yell.
At nearly the same moment, Ty echoes me. The man he found coughs, still clinging to consciousness. Ty staggers a little as he gets an arm around him, but recovers and begins his exit. Jeff’s found us. As I hoist the woman’s feet up, I catch sight of Jeff’s expression when he sees the blaze behind me. No one ever wants to see that look on a guy with Jeff’s experience.
‘Get her arms!’
He helps me and we drag her from the office into the hall. The heat from the fire creeps nearer, an ever-advancing force, even as we fight to pull her to safety. By the time we’re outside and have handed her over to the medics, the fire’s light has eclipsed the sunset’s orange streaks. Its glow reflects on the clouds and in the puddles covering the ground where the hoses are set.
‘It’s in the walls,’ Travis warns.
Ty’s back with us since the medics finally took his man. ‘No sprinklers?’
‘System was being overhauled.’
‘Shitty luck,’ Ty mutters.
‘We’ve got one more,’ Jeff says.
‘Think one made it out the window?’ I ask as we head back toward the door, grabbing an axe on my way.
‘Didn’t see anyone else in the office,’ Ty says.
Travis and Nelson give us the best entry they can manage and we slip back into the chaos. The building’s nearly engulfed now. Flames dance over the ceiling, a mesmerising ripple betraying how close the danger really is. The hallway remains moderately clear, but the open floor is a mess of burning files and smouldering debris dropping from the ceiling. We crouch as we find our way back to the office through the suffocating cloud. Jeff and Ty search the edges of the room, but there’s no sign of anyone. I focus on the window.
The glass smashes easily with the flat head of the axe, shattering out onto the floor on the other side. Hopefully our third victim isn’t directly below the window where the glass shards fall.
‘I’m going over,’ I tell them, handing over the axe.
Jeff kneels so I can get a leg up. My thick gear protects me from the tiny slivers leftover on the sill and I swing my way into the empty space beyond. It’s not dark here. The flames clawing their way up one of the last metal racks about twenty feet from me illuminate the area.
I land awkwardly, trying to avoid the limp form lying on the floor beneath the window.
‘Found her,’ I yell.
I roll her, trying to get her in position to hoist onto my shoulder. She’s young. Younger than I expected. Cat or Maya’s age.
‘Better hurry,’ Ty calls.
There’s no point looking behind me. The heat caresses my back through my bunker coat. She’s dead weight; her arms trail over to lay against my spine. I push up with my legs and position her so she falls into Ty’s waiting arms. He and Jeff struggle to drag her back through the open hole that was once a window. I press up her legs, helping as best I can, but the ominous creaking around me warns time’s running out.
Once she’s safely on the other side of the wall, I start to climb back through the hole. The pull-up I use to hoist myself onto the windowsill works until my boot slips. The mistake costs me, slamming my shin and knee onto the sill, sending me falling backward with jarring force. I hit the floor, helmet and head snapping against the concrete. For a moment, all I see is fire.
The ceiling above me. The cresting waves of motion to my side. The heat sears through my gear. I gulp air as I try to convince my limbs to obey. It takes too fucking long.
I force myself at the window again. My arms shake, the air trapped in my mask is hot, and the fire roars directly behind me. Wedging my boot in the corner of the sill gives me the purchase I lacked last time. Jeff tugs at me, helping me get my rear boot over the wall, and I collapse on the floor.
The radio’s still going off. More companies have arrived and are venting the building. They’re worried about the roof. Fighting to get to my feet hurts, but there’s no time to acknowledge that pain. Jeff updates on our position while Ty and I focus on the girl.
A new layer of smoke forces its way into the office, leaving us no option but to crouch the entire way to the main hall. Once we get there, it’s slow going, painfully slow. All our oxygen tanks are starting to run low, not a surprise considering how we’ve been working and sucking in air. Worse, if our victim’s breathing, she’s inhaling this shit and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. Until we’re outside, we can’t stop to check for a pulse, for breathing. We have no idea if we’re manhandling a corpse.
The billows of steam we hear more than see are a relief. Nelson and Travis stop the flow of their line while we exit. The instant we’re clear, they’re back on the fire. Jeff hurries off to find update the medic while Ty and I finish carrying the girl a safe distance away. The cries of onlookers register only as background noise, much like the rush of water from hoses or the sound of beams collapsing inside the warehouse.
We lay her down and shed our helmets and masks. Ty lays his ear to her mouth while I rip off my gloves and feel for a pulse. Nothing.
‘No breathing,’ Ty mutters.
I start compressions. Ty and I work in tandem, me slamming out the rhythm while he breathes for her. It seems like forever, but it’s really a short minute or two before two paramedics rush to our aid. They take over and we have a chance to take our own shaky breaths.
But she doesn’t have that opportunity. Words buzz between the two men and all I can do is sit and watch. She’s so young. Face covered in soot, her nice business clothes ruined. She could be anything she wants. Have anyone she wants. Instead she lies here on the wet pavement, two strangers forcing her heart and lungs to work without their consent.
Jeff reappears, water bottles in hand. I swig half of mine and dump the rest over my head, skin still hyperaware of the heat thanks to my inept first attempt through the window.
They’re finally getting our girl onto the gurney. There’s been no change. She’s still not breathing. A woman, tears streaming down her cheeks, has broken from the crowd and waits near the ambulance. She sobs as they help her in and leave for the hospital, lights flashing.
Maybe it’s the victim’s mother. An aunt. A sister. In any case, I doubt that this morning they parted ways with any thought that they may never speak again. In the face of the fire, the victim clearly refused to lay down and wait. She managed to escape out the window. Did the man we rescued help her down so she didn’t get cut on the glass? Was she trying to go for help? If Cat was in the situation, would she know how to get out? Would Maya?
‘You okay, Jacobs?’ Ty asks me. ‘That was a bitch of a fall.’
The dull throb at the back of my skull intensifies. A knock to the back of the head, a bruised shin and knee. The tentative stomach cramps warning of impending heat exhaustion. Small stuff.
‘Fine,’ I assure him. Shit, they may see this fire on the news …
‘I wasn
’t sure you were going to be able to get up without us,’ Jeff scolds me. ‘For a second there it looked like you were trying to decide whether or not to take a nap.’
‘That’s only because you two were so damn slow,’ I joke, hoping it covers the thoughts popping into my head without my approval. There’s no time to call Maya, to assure her I’m okay…
The rumble shakes the air and we look toward the building. Crew members from the other engines are yelling and backing away in time for one corner of the building to give.
‘It’s going to be a long night,’ Ty says.
I nod. ‘Let’s go.’
The sooner we knock this fire down, the sooner I can make sure the people I love know I’m safe…
Jeff bumps into me when I stop mid-step. We both stumble and Ty catches my elbow.
‘You okay?’ he asks.
‘Fuck,’ I mutter, more from my realisation than the collision.
‘Jacobs, you may need to sit down. Or get the medics to check that bump on your head,’ Jeff says, eyeing me with concern.
Oh, God, no. Anything but this—
‘It’s not that,’ I try to explain, wresting myself from Ty. ‘Just thought of something. Doesn’t matter though. Where’s the captain?’
Ty and Jeff exchange a look I decide to ignore, but fall in step beside me. I need to get on a hose. Get up on the platform. Anything. Anything to make my brain shut up before it slams me with more news I don’t have the time or desire to process.
It’s not true, I tell myself.
Too bad I know my nausea’s got nothing to do with the heat now.
***
After the boisterous atmosphere of the station, my apartment is too quiet. I put away the groceries and turn on some of the lights. For a brief moment, I consider opening up the window to the spring breeze, but the familiar bite of smoke in the air makes me reconsider. The fire Jake and his crew left for must be big if we’re getting indicators of it over here by the college.
I’m able to last ten minutes before the silence gets to me. Turning the TV to the local news station provides soothing white noise. At least, it does until the newscaster mentions the fire.
‘Tonight, breaking news updates on the fire still raging downtown.’
I return to the living room with my glass of water and settle in on the couch, tucking my feet up under me. I reach for the remote to turn up the volume when my phone goes off.
The number’s not familiar, so I answer cautiously. ‘Hello?’
‘Maya—’
‘Dallas?’
He sounds tired. ‘Yeah. Sorry to call so late.’
‘Have you heard from Jake tonight? I think he may be on that fire downtown—’
‘That’s why I was calling.’
The wave of apprehension crashing over me is a little too intense for my tastes. ‘Is he okay?’
‘I think so. I mean, he’s too busy to call.’
‘What about Catherine? Has she seen the news? She’ll get so worried …’ I continue to watch the news report out of the corner of my eye, gut sinking lower and lower as new images of the fire emerge. God, it looks like some kind of monster rising up from the roof of the building.
‘Cat’s fine. Look, I don’t know if you’ve seen the news—’
‘I’m watching it right now.’
‘There’s some rough video in it and they’re running the fucking thing every ten minutes or so. I’m making sure Cat isn’t watching, but thought I should warn you too.’
Blood pounds in my ears so loudly I barely catch the rest of what Dallas is saying.
‘I don’t know if Cat’s going to call you or not. But if she does, can you try not to mention anything about it? I don’t want her to worry and I know Jake wouldn’t want that either.’
‘He never does.’ The live feed shows a portion of the building collapsing, sending up a cloud of sparkling embers that are swallowed by a guttering column of flames.
‘I’ve gotta go. Work tomorrow and Cat’s not letting up on the pestering.’
‘Sure.’
‘Maya—’ His voice softens. ‘He’ll be okay.’
‘Of course.’
‘Try to sleep. Night.’
‘Night,’ I mutter absently, turning up the broadcast.
‘Fire Chief Daniel Shultz issued a brief statement to reporters earlier this evening, stating that this fire is indeed one of the largest the town’s forces has faced.’
The chief’s face appears on screen. He’s composed, calm in spite of the flickering orange reflecting off the news vans around him. ‘Our crews are highly trained,’ he says. ‘We helped EMS reach the injured and are continuing to attack this fire in the safest but most aggressive way we can. As to earlier reports of injuries, I can confirm that there were three critical patients recovered from the building. They have been transported to the hospital with burns to their airways. As of this time, we have no reports of any injuries to our firefighters.’
The newscaster’s calm voice intones, ‘This is raw footage of the rescue of one of the victims from earlier in the evening was provided by a witness at the scene. As this footage is intense, we urge our viewers to watch it with discretion.’
Something’s happening on screen. Two firefighters come out of the smoking building, a limp form dangling between them. The camera shakes as the person filming tries to follow their progress. The firefighters lay the limp body down, removing their gear. Even from the back, I recognise the broad shoulders and buzzed blond hair of the man who begins compressions. The attempts continue until a pair of paramedics arrive.
The feed switches back to the pretty blond newscaster. She drones on and I press my knuckles to my chest, swallowing as the pain there increases. I rub lightly, hoping to make the ache diffuse, but it doesn’t. It was Jake running out of the burning building with that person.
He’s a professional. He knows what he’s doing, I tell myself. My throat’s tight. I stand and pace the narrow strip between the couch and coffee table. We’re now live at the scene, a reporter providing live updates on the situation. Suddenly he jolts as an explosion rocks the building behind him. I don’t realise I’m kneeling in front of the television until my fingers brush the screen.
Firefighters scatter, dark shadows disappearing back into nothingness as they cross in front of the orange glow. The reporter does an admirable job of updating, but his voice shakes and it’s clear he’s terrified as he and his crew retreat further away from the scene.
My phone is in my hands before I can stop myself. The text to Catherine makes a noise when it sends and I realise too late that Dallas is going to kill me.
Can I have Jake’s number?
‘Crap!’ I mumble.
She responds instantaneously. Why? Did you see something on the news?
Gotta cover somehow … but how? Inspiration strikes and I reply, No. I found a grocery bag with magazines and toilet paper in my car. As that one zips away, I follow up with, I’ll keep the TP, but don’t find guns, trucks, or tattooed women attractive.
My desperate plan works. A few minutes later, she texts back. Ugh. Who was Jake with? Nelson?
Actually, yes.
Figures. He’ll probably just tell you to toss them. And there, under her words, a line of numbers that provide sweet relief to my panicked brain.
Once I get Catherine calmed down, I open a new message to Jake and stare at my tiny, blinking cursor. Now what? There is no way possible I can text him without sounding like a complete lunatic. Although, I think I may be acting like one, since I’ve put my phone down on the sofa and backed away from it like it’s some kind of feral animal.
Why should I text him anyway? Because when we hung out tonight we didn’t try to rip each other’s throats out for a change? Surely that’s the sign of a healthy relationship.
‘Hold on.’ I press my hands against my kitchen counter, room suddenly wobbling a bit. ‘Relationship?’
Is that what I want to have with Jake?
/> The kitchen linoleum is cool when I settle my butt more firmly into a seated position. This requires time to process.
‘I don’t want to be in a relationship,’ I say aloud. Even to my own ears, the protest sounds flimsy.
‘I don’t,’ I say again, trying to force some kind of conviction into the words.
I can’t want a relationship. Relationships destroy lives. They take individual freedom and smother it under the pretence of affection. Then they shatter and everyone gets damaged in the fallout. Besides, Jake and I already discussed this. He’s not looking for more and neither am I. My desire to somehow deserve him was nothing more than a biological imperative telling me to think that so I could have black-out-orgasm sex again.
‘I don’t need Jake Jacobs,’ I snarl, stalking toward the couch to pick up my phone.
It’s funny how painful texting a few words can be. Acting has taught me the nuance of words, the subtle messages that can be delivered without meaning to. At least texting makes it easier to say this. I don’t know if I could meet his eyes and utter the same words without giving up too much information.
I send the message quickly and shut off my phone. The news continues, warning that the smoke will hang over the town well into the morning. I shut it off and head to bed, turning off lights as I go. Once I’m under the covers, it’s easy to close my eyes. It’s harder to drift off, especially when worry eats at me over the fire, my message, and Jake’s reaction to it. But it had to be done. We’ve already gone too far. I hope I can stop us before the scarring begins.
Chapter 6
There’s no triumphant return to the station this time. We’re all too exhausted to waste precious energy like that and we’re hours over the end of our shift. Even though it’s two in the morning, we have to clean up and put away the gear, ensure the engines are ready to go out again if another call comes, and have our debrief meeting.
Captain Blake’s a stickler about debriefs. We all trudge our way into the kitchen and huddle around the coffee maker. Once the cups of the caffeinated sludge are given out, the captain gestures for us to take our seats.
‘I’m going to keep this short so you can get out of here,’ he announces after taking a long sip from his mug. ‘You did great out there tonight. It wasn’t an easy job on any level.’