Maybe I am a selfish prick.
And maybe… maybe he does get under my skin more than I want to admit.
Chapter 14
Wyatt
Flamessurgeoutofthe structure. It stands across the field, right on the outskirts of a wooded area that also appears to be ablaze. The truck screams across the field, Liam at the helm, Nate sitting beside him. Luke is handling the brush truck following us, a vehicle well equipped for these kinds of calls, and off-road terrain.
“Dalton, you’re on the hose,” Nate calls into the back.
My heart skips four beats. Fuck. It’s not like it’s my first time on the hose, I worked it at Station Six multiple times, plus back home in Montana as a junior firefighter. But it’s the first time with my new crew, and of course it’s fresh off my dad’s voicemail.
I am cut out for this. I can do this.
“Nate,” Brody mutters, but it’s loud enough for me to hear.
“James,” Nate says, calling Brody by his last name, “you’re behind him.”
Brody scoffs in the seat next to me. “Luke and I can handle it.”
He doesn’t trust me yet. I get it. But I’m not going to be able to prove myself if he doesn’t give me a chance.
Nate doesn’t bother answering as the truck comes to a stop where he directs it. Brody and I are out in a second, and I’m hauling ass to pull the line from the truck. Brody is already there, reaching for a nozzle before he thrusts it towards me, meeting my eyes.
“Don’t fuck this up, kid.”
No shit.
Every first-day nerve comes racing to the surface and that voicemail rings in my ears. Forcing air into my lungs to keep the adrenaline pumping but controlled, I refuse to let the nerves or my father win. Not right now.
Taking the hose, I race towards the structure, IDLH running through my head. Immediate danger to life or health. We have no idea if there’s anyone inside that building.
I’m on a knee, hose aimed, ready to go when I shout behind me, “Water!”
Brody isn’t far behind and yells back at the truck. A second later the line is charged, and I’m opening the nozzle, the pressure of the water jostling my body even though I’m braced.
Don’t fuck up. Don’t fuck up. Don’t fuck up.
The words are like an old school disc skipping in my mind, replaying over and over. It’s the only thought in, the only one out. The only thing that counts in this moment as I fuck this fire up.
“To the left,” Brody calls from behind me and I automatically follow his instructions.
Smoke billows out of the roof, out the doorway, the smell of burning wood mixing with the fresh air around us. With every second the water is on the fire, the less orange and more grey-black there is. It’s like Heaven to a firefighter.
“Advance,” Brody’s deep voice bellows in my ear. Closer than before.
Again, I work on autopilot, getting up, adjusting my stance and grip on the nozzle, then moving forward, the heat pushing in against my gear. Training kicks in, and I move the water spray to the door of the shed-type structure, attacking the remaining flames I see trying to find life in air too thick for oxygen. With every flame I defeat, I advance towards the structure, closer to the doorway.The flames have eaten through the roof, so I keep some distance, knowing it’ll cave in, any second.
“Dalton, tree line,” Brody calls when the structure looks relatively knocked down.
Luke has been working it with the brush truck, but I turn to put water on the remaining flames I see.
“Move right.”
Doing as he says, I take a few steps to my right, eyes adjusting to the foliage that’s lit up. Not as bad as the structure, but if we hadn’t gotten here when we did, it wouldn’t have been long before things were a lot worse. I get the worst of it, flames turning into smoke, Luke working to my left on another section. The flood of adrenaline that spiked when we first got here has settled out into a steady rhythm in my veins, my heart rate evening out, and I feel like I’ve found my groove with this fire. Defeat is imminent.
A step to the left, moving towards the structure, disaster strikes. One second I’m on my feet, the next I’m hitting the ground on my left side, my arm and shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. I’ve tripped over my own feet.
