“You can’t be here!”
It’s the one in the white helmet who speaks, the chief officer, the one running the show. The one who’ll decide when to give up on this rescue. I know Ryker won’t give up on Freddie. He’ll refuse to come down without him or climb inside to perish with him.
“Look at me,” I tell him, pointing at my face. “That’s my brother up there. It’s ten minutes until your backup arrives. Let me help.”
He stares at me for a long few seconds, then turns to the man beside him. “Martin, hose, left window.”
Martin abandons his position to me, and sprints back to the fire engine.
Grant’s a few metres away, speaking into his radio. I look up at Ryker. His boots clank on each rung of the ladder, and his harness clicks as it knocks against the metal. We hold the ladder still, but it bounces in our grip. I cough into my shoulder, I’m not wearing breathing apparatus after all, and the chief’s gaze finds me. He curses, but his scrunched expression relaxes, and he stares off to one side like he’s listening, then he looks up at my brother.
He’s reached the window, but it won’t open. Ryker drops down a step, wraps his leg around the rung of the ladder, then grabs the bottom of the window with both hands. It doesn’t open. He yanks. There’s a ping then a crunch, and we flinch as something hits the ground. I look up as Ryker looks down. His face is covered by his mask, but I know he sees me. He’s either going to save Freddie or die trying, and me . . . I have to watch.
I might watch them die.
Ryker opens the window, but the hinge is at the top. It doesn’t make it easy on him, but he’s bracing one hand on the framewhile opening it up with the other. I hate how far he has to lean back. He looks inside, but the window slips from his gloved hand and swings down. It rams the oxygen tank into his back, and even though I’m not connected by a headset, I hear his grunt of pain.
The ladder jerks with the impact.
“Ryker!”
I can’t help myself, it comes out.
Ryker lifts the window again, but this time he uses his back to keep it open. It’s less room to work with, but it means he’s got both hands free. He reaches inside, leaning right over to grab Freddie. Ryker pulls him up by his armpits. I can’t see Freddie’s face, but the way his arms flop rolls my stomach.
I told him to open the window, but what if that had been the wrong thing to do? I could’ve hung up, called Ryker, and told him the situation, but Ryker might not have answered, and if I couldn’t get Freddie on the phone again, I would’ve lost it completely.
The ambulance screeches onto the scene, adding more blue lights. They’re all flashing out of time, catching the smoke. It’s a blue cloud not a black one. Ryker manages to haul Freddie out and get his body over his shoulder. There are no ropes on Freddie, it’s all on Ryker to keep him safe and walk him down. Freddie’s head lolls at Ryker’s lower back, and his arms hang limp, fingers loose. He’s unconscious, I know he is, but I watch his fingers for a twitch.
I watch for a sign of life.
There’s nothing.
“Easy,” I hear the chief say. “Nice and slow, Ryker.”
Ryker brings him down, and each carefully placed step swings Freddie’s head like a ragdoll. His eyes are closed. His lips are open slightly, and still, his fingers don’t twitch. Ryker’s boots thud firmly back to earth. He takes Freddie away, and I want togo with him, but the chief tells me no. I can’t abandon my post. The ladder is a huge piece of equipment and needs to be taken down with care.
I nod and resist the urge to glance Freddie and Ryker’s way.
Ryker’s taken him to the ambulance, but somehow, they feel further away from me than when they were up the ladder. I do as I’m told, something I’m not used to, until we’ve got the ladder down and it lies on the ground, then I cross the car park on weak legs.
I’d wanted to go to them, but now . . . now I’m able to, I feel unwelcome, like I’ve failed them somehow, like I’m unworthy to approach. Ryker proved his worth, he literally pulled Freddie from a burning building, but what did I do?
I stood andwatched.
Ryker’s dropped his oxygen tank and removed his mask and helmet. His eyebrows quiver as he looks down at Freddie on the stretcher. There’s an oxygen mask over Freddie’s mouth, and from the blur of condensation, I know he’s breathing, but they’re short, shallow breaths. His hair is drenched through with sweat, and his cheeks are red, but the rest of his visible skin is deathly pale. The paramedics fuss over him, and Ryker takes hold of his hand.
I come up behind Ryker and do what I do best, what I’ve done since I got here.
I watch.
And I feel fucking helpless.
I feeluseless.
Ryker’s speaking to Freddie, reassuring him, but I press my lips together.
I’m rigid behind my brother.
