“Don’t thank me yet. Thank me after we bring them home.”
The rain was a solid wall of water when we deployed, visibility reduced to maybe twenty feet even with the truck’s lights cutting through the darkness. Dane drove while I ran through rescue protocols in my head, checking and rechecking my equipment, making sure everything was secured properly.
“Radio check,” I said into my headset.
“Command reads you loud and clear,” Sable’s voice came back immediately. “Current conditions show water level rising six inches per hour. Vehicle is reported stable but settling. You’re still good on time.”
“Copy that.” Hearing her voice helped. Kept me grounded in the present instead of letting my mind slip back three years.
“Fire Two reports they can still see occupants moving inside the vehicle,” Sable continued. “The woman appears to be keeping children calm. Windows are still intact.”
Good. That was good. Meant we had a chance.
The Riverside Bridge came into view, and I could see Fire Two’s truck with lights illuminating the scene. The vehicle was a sedan, maybe fifteen years old, partially submerged in waterthat was moving fast enough to rock it slightly. The creek had overflowed its banks, turning this section of road into a rushing stream that was getting deeper by the minute.
I was out of the truck before Dane brought it to a complete stop, already pulling on my rescue harness and checking the rope system. Captain Torres from Fire Two met me at the water’s edge.
“Single woman, two kids, ages look like maybe four and six,” she said quickly. “Water’s risen another three inches since the initial call. Current is strong. Vehicle is lodged against that fallen tree, which is the only thing keeping it from washing downstream.”
I studied the scene, forcing myself to see it tactically instead of emotionally. The tree was about thirty feet from shore. Water was chest-deep where the vehicle sat, probably deeper in the main channel. Current was running west to east, which meant I’d need to approach from upstream to avoid being pushed past the target.
“Rope system,” I said. “Dane secures the anchor point, I go in on belay. Silas stages here for immediate medical once I extract them.”
“Copy that,” Dane said, already moving to set up the anchor system on the bridge support.
I stripped down to my wetsuit and checked my gear one more time. Rescue knife, strobe light, flotation devices, window punch. Everything I needed to get those people out.
“Beau.” Sable’s voice in my ear again. “Status check.”
“Deploying in sixty seconds. Rope system is solid, approach vector is clear. Water conditions are manageable.”
“You’re going to do this,” she said quietly. “You’re going to bring them home, and when you do, I’ll be here waiting.”
Something in my chest settled at those words. She’d be waiting. Not because she doubted me, but because she believed I was coming back.
“On belay,” Dane called out, tension in the safety line secure.
“Belay on,” I confirmed, and stepped into the water.
The current hit immediately, trying to push me downstream. I used it, angling my body to let the water carry me toward the vehicle while the rope kept me from washing past. The water was cold, runoff from higher elevations, and I could feel debris bumping against my legs as I moved.
Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.
The woman saw me coming. Her face appeared in the driver’s side window, pale and frightened but holding it together. She had a child pressed against her on each side, both small enough that the rising water inside the vehicle was reaching their chests.
I reached the car and pressed against the window. “Can you hear me?”
She nodded frantically.
“I’m going to get you out. All three of you. But I need you to listen carefully and do exactly what I say. Can you do that?”
Another nod. She was shaking, but her eyes were focused. Clear. She was present and functional despite the terror.
“When I break this window, water is going to rush in fast. It’s going to be scary and it’s going to be cold, but it’s the only way to equalize pressure so we can open the door. I need you to take a deep breath and hold it until I tell you to breathe again. Keep hold of both children. Do not let go. I’ve got you.”
“Okay,” she said, voice muffled through the glass. “Okay. We can do this.”
“On my count. Three, two, one.”
