Page 48 of Open Liner
Chief jogged back over to us. “Looks like a class B fire based on the flames and spread. Start at it with the foam.”
Already, crowds of people gathered out in the parking lot, huddled in groups of families, neighbors, as everyone stared on in horror. This sort of place, the fire could spread at a lightning pace, and everyone’s homes were in danger. My mind zeroed in on assessing the damage that was visible.
“Anyone still inside?” I asked the chief.
He was already in motion, helping me and Dooley prep the foam hose, and we unrolled it at rapid speed, drawing it over in the direction of the blaze. The creak and groan and crackle of the flames were audible, even over the chatter from the crowd outside.
“Go check with the crowds,” Chief directed, and I stepped away at once.
I jogged over to the first cluster of tenants. “Everyone get out okay?”
A woman raced up to me, tears running down her face. “My mother, she’s trapped in there. She can’t walk.”
Oh, fuck.
“What part of the building?” I asked.
The woman pointed to the middle of the complex. The left side was fiercely burning, closing in on where she’d pointed. She’d be in imminent danger.
“Apartment 2b, on the second floor,” she said, wringing her hands. “I drove over here when I heard about the fire.”
My stomach bottomed out, but I radioed the chief. “Going in—middle section. Older woman trapped.”
“Roger,” Chief fired back.
With that, I took off.
My heart thumped hard in my ears as I secured all my gear and strode up to the central entrance. The door was locked, one of those that needed a passcode to get in, and metal at that. The window next to it was the easier entry point. I brought out my hatchet and began to hack away, the shattering of glass barely making a dent in the nearby roar of the fire. Already, stepping this close to the building brought the waves of smoke my way, the heat rising by the second.
Once I got the window cleared, I reached for the radio. “Entering now.”
When I stepped inside, someone’s bedroom greeted me, piles of dirty laundry and teetering stacks of books, but I strode through the apartment with ease. Once I emerged into the hallway, I headed in the direction of the stairwell. If the mother was on the second floor, I should be able to get to her quickly.
I marched down the main hall at an even speed, making sure to watch where I walked for any obstacles, as well as any glimmers of flame or plumes of smoke. I checked each room as I went, the doors still open, alert for any sounds of a person or animal who might’ve gotten left behind in the shuffle.
Farther down the hall, the flames were creeping forward, licking through apartment after apartment at an alarming speed. Given thebuilder, I wasn’t surprised. Geraldo Building was notorious for using shit materials and not keeping everything to code, even as he churned out more new complexes every year.
I reached the stairs and thumped my way up, my heart rate accelerated.
The roiling smoke that had begun to crawl through the place was likely hazardous, and I was grateful for the SCBA gear I was breathing through. Especially if this had been caused by a gas leak or any other sort of class B situation. My body hummed with readiness, the way it always did during one of the more dangerous fires.
In these moments, I thrived. My adrenaline pumped, my body hummed with awareness, and I moved with an unparalleled deftness.
And yet, a new concern blossomed in the mix. If something happened to me here, I’d regret not saying anything to August.
I reached the second floor, and smoke crawled farther into the building, making visibility murkier. I checked the first door—apartment 2a. Chances were, the woman who was trapped would be close to here.
The door on the opposite side showed the exact one I searched for. I opened the door, which thankfully wasn’t locked.
“Anyone in here?” I called out.
“Here,” an older woman cried, coming from farther inside the apartment.
I rushed in the direction of the rooms, and in the middle of the hall, an older woman crawled forward, using her arms to propel her. My chest squeezed tight. Shit, had her relative not been outside, she never would’ve made it out on her own.
“Let’s get you on my back,” I said. “Trouble with the legs?”
“Yes,” she gasped, sweat in a sheen across her forehead. I crouched down and helped her onto my back. Thankfully, she wasn’t very heavy.I gripped her arms to keep her in place, her legs too weak to brace herself on my back. Time to get the fuck out of here.
