Page 51 of On Fire

Ellie’s face is smudged and her hair is singed in places, but she’s fine. Her brother is lying in a gurney with eye pads over his lids so he can’t see her.

“It’s me, it’s me,” Ellie says, holding his hand.

“I’m sending this ambulance in with both of them. How are you?”

I nod. The falling timber did a number on my back and my neck is ringing, if possible, but I’m fine.

“I need to go with them,” she says. “Any idea where the parents are?”

I shake my head and jut a finger at the house which is now engulfed with the black smoke pouring from windows on the third floor. “We have to get this contained. Is Luke coming?”

She nods. “He’ll be here in fifteen.”

It will be ten minutes after the ambulance pulls out that Luke pulls in with his investigation kit.

It will be another five minutes after that before the babysitter returns with takeout, becomes hysterical and collapses.

It’s not her fault, I keep telling her. Yes, she shouldn’t have left the children, but the fire would have started anyway. My units are tired. Unit A fought the last one which, though not as large or pervasive or destructive, was just as voracious. So those guys are already wiped.

I decide I’d better mix it up. I divide the units for cleanup and return, partnering one from B, the fresher group with A. They don’t like it, but tough.

It’s why I’m chief. I make it a point never to single anyone out who looks tired or is struggling physically or mentally, that way no one feels like they are being babied.

God forbid we look vulnerable.

This job does not allow for vulnerability because we are persistently and forever at the mercy of fire. We can’t let our guard down and when we do, we don’t talk about it afterward. So far, Devon is the only person I’ve referred to counseling who took me up on it. A baby she’d pulled from flames died in the ambulance. She was a wreck afterward.

So, fire is relentless—it’s always out there.

Even after two house fires, I won’t get a break. As much as I’d like to go home, I have to go directly to Rockland and talk staging areas and scenarios with the other two chiefs and Carson. And the feds. I sigh.

΅

When I finally pull up into the driveway, I’m beat. Matt can’t be on call tonight—he’s worked the same fires I have, so I have to pass the hat to McKinley, who is untested but eager. He’s got my emergency number if he needs me. His attitude is not good, though, and I nearly pulled him off the command position, but rescheduling is impossible right now.

I don’t appreciate the snide comments lately. He actually came to my office yesterday asking where I’d been when not on active duty.

“Home.”

“You live at the station.” He had shrugged and then said, “I guess you have a little distraction.” Then he paused. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

“What?”

“You’re never here anymore.”

I set down my pencil. “Are you trying to tell me something.”

“No, sir. It’s just that you used to work out here all the time. I’m not sure some of the guys would be comfortable with that now.”

My mouth went dry “And why would that be?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs. “But think about it.”

He knows damn well why. This is the reason I have to maintain. This and twenty-seven other people who I have to work with every day.

The last report from Devon was that the two young children were doing fine, though the boy would stay overnight. The parents were reunited with their kids after coming back from a matinee.

Luke’s statement was pretty clear: it was an electrical fire, started by a faulty outlet in the front room behind the TV.