Page 83 of Burn Protocol

“Good,” Salisar smiles, “because you are going to be on administrative duties for at least a month after the article comes out. We’ll call it an administrative reassignment as an answer to your transparency.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. A whole month of paper pushing? But the Chief grins at me.

“Just on paper, Elena. No, you won’t be able to respond to calls during those days, but I’m intending to put you in charge of drills. There just happens to be a fresh batch of rookies around that same time. Honestly, I would have gotten you off the streets for those days regardless.”

I let out a relieved sigh, followed by another chuckle. It makes perfect sense. Salisar can’t look away this time. It will be public. There needs to be a consequence. But since I am here of my own volition, before the article is printed, he can turn it into a formal warning and a slap on the wrist. It will show on my record, but that’s the worst of it.

“Effective immediately you will have no media access, no ride-alongs with Carter, and you will not give any more interviews. Press Office and HR will run point. You focus on drills.” He pauses for a beat, before smirking. “You and Maya will also attend a full Q&A after the presentation of the article. You can bet your ass that it will garner attention. This story is going to leak soon. I’ll speak to our press office so that they can prepare you two.” He studies my face for a bit and I groan. “Yeah, you’ll hate it. Suffer. This is something you need to push through to get to the other side. Not a request, but an order. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

My voice doesn’t tremble even though I, indeed, hate the idea. He nods and leans back, looking into his orange juice with another pang of regret in his eyes.

“Alright. Wrap up for today. Go tell her all about it.”

“Thank you, sir.” I hesitate for a moment. “Sir?”

He looks up, his eyebrow lifted. “There is more?”

I chuckle.

“Nothing like that, Chief. But I would like to speak to Tommy. I know he is the one who… came to you.” I swallow harsher words. “He betrayed the trust as much as I have, sir. I want to set the record straight.”

Salisar’s facial expression doesn’t change—he looks at me for a moment, and then rubs his chin.

“I never liked that kid,” he grumbles under his breath, before slightly lifting his chin. “Just make sure you keep it professional. This can’t be turned into a witch hunt. Document everything. No confrontation without a witness. You’ll keep an eye on the crew?”

“Always.”

“I thought as much.” His eyes dart back to the paperwork in front of him. “Enjoy your evening, Elena.”

“Thank you, Chief. You too.”

There are roughly 730 firefighters in Barcelona. People that put their lives on the line day in and day out. Only 40 of them are women, and of those women, only 10 hold a commanding position. Only one of them is decorated.

Lieutenant Elena Gonzales is what you may call unique. Not just to Stationhouse 2, but to the whole of Spain. Due to her fast thinking and rapid responses, she saved multiple villages from burning down during the 2016 wildfires. Her actions saved the lives of up to 3,000 people.

Today she serves the city of Barcelona in the fullest capacity of a frontline firefighter. A job that entails more than putting out fires. It also includes assisting at accidents, cleaning up chemical spills and, you guessed it, rescuing cats from trees. She is a hero in the truest sense of the word—even if she would never accept that title—but Elena Gonzales is so much more than that.

For the preparation of this article, I had the honor of joining the Engine 2 crew, which is led by lieutenant Gonzales. During these three months, I was fortunate enough to become close to her. It wasn’t just the intensity of the jobs and the things these men and women see on a daily basis, but mainly her strong and protective personality that drew me in. That is why this article comes with the following disclaimer:

During the preparation of this article, journalist Maya Carter got involved with her subject, lieutenant Elena Gonzales. At the time of writing, they are in a committed relationship. For full transparency, Maya Carter acknowledges that her views are no longer objective. This article strongly reflects her personal views on lieutenant Gonzales and will include details of how their relationship came into existence.

When you first walk into Stationhouse 2, you might be surprised by the chaos. There are people everywhere, radios crackle non-stop, and there is always something happening in the bay. It smells like diesel, metal, and sweat. Even in the cantina, people are always on guard for an alarm. There is no real rest, but always an undercurrent of anticipation for the next call. Everybody knows that that call can change their lives. That it can be the difference between them going home that night, or never at all.

What you might not see during that first walk is that the chaos is organized. Every movement is deliberate, every action well thought out. A place where each crew knows exactly what to do and when to do it. The house runs like a well-oiled machine. Each cog is carefully managed, just like the crew of Engine 2, which takes directions from lieutenant Elena Gonzales.

“She’s a natural, really. Always calm and collected. She doesn’t even have to bark orders. One look from her and you move. You just know what she needs you to do,” Eduardo Rivera says. As the newest member of his crew, he felt it was especially important that he could connect with his new lieutenant. “They no longer call you a rookie, but that’s when the real learning starts, you know? It is important to have a leader who sees where you need help. Who doesn’t shame you for your lack of knowledge and experience, but actively tries to lift you to a higher level. Gonzales does all of that, and she knows it will only work if you are accepted into the family. I don’t envy her. It must be incredibly scary to put so much faith in somebody you barely know.”

Pedro Díaz agrees with his crew member. “Gonzales always makes sure we are doing okay. Asking about our families, about our lives, and she actually cares. She even expects us to do the same, not just with her but with each other. It creates a safety bubble, and that carries over in the work we do. We are tight because we care. We care because we are tight.”

Although only 25 percent of the calls involve some sort of risk and only 5 percent are high-risk, the lieutenant insists that her crew is always prepared. When they are not out on calls, the team prepares their equipment, maintains the vehicle, or runs one of the many drills Gonzales has prepared.

“She pushes us harder than any other lieutenant. People used to call her out for it. When a man takes charge, he’s called driven and determined, right? When a woman does it, she is called an ice-cold bitch. But the truth is everyone sleeps easier when she is on shift. Now, all the other crews try to live up to her standard.”

Gonzales admits that it hasn’t always been easy on her. When she had just been named lieutenant, it felt like she wasn’t taken seriously. “I wanted to be liked and do the job to the best of my abilities. Those two don’t always go together. They still don’t. Instead of listening to my instincts, I made poor decisions to be accepted.”

One of those decisions was made during the rescue mission of 2016, when she led her team deep into a forest area and they got surrounded by the fire. The crew was taken by surprise, resulting in the loss of one member. Something she can never forgive herself for, even though Gonzales’s quick thinking saved the lives of the other crew members. “We should never have been there. I should have never put them in that position. I wanted to prove myself. It was the worst call in my career.”