Page 3 of Flash Freeze

“From the south side of the building,” he said. “There’s a service drive the transport trucks use.”

Trevino and Wilson from Engine One trotted up, Halligans in hand. “Mr. Booker, go with Engine One and show them. Trevino, get water on those tanks and keep ’em cool. We’re not losing the neighborhood today.”

“Roger that,” Trevino clipped. “Sir, if you’ll come with us.”

“My people,” he protested.

Flash loosened her grip on his arm.

“Cash’s team will get them out. Now, please, Mr. Booker. If those chemicals go, none of us go home today.”

With a deep grimace and gnashed teeth, the manager complied.

“Take your hoses in, but be careful. And stay on the walkies.” Jake pinned Flash with a steely gaze that conveyed more than words. She nodded. “Squad, assist. Velasquez, can you get Eighteen evaluating ventilation options and Twenty attacking the flames from the outside? We need to act fast.”

Flash didn’t hear the rest. She was moving, her crew with her. Jackson and Arredondo from Squad pushed in front of her. “Don’t get lost in there,” she ordered and pulled down her mask. It fit snug. The sound of air pumping filled her ears.

“Fire Department, call out!” Jackson shouted. They’d only taken a few steps when a group of three employees hurried toward the light from outside.

“Is there anyone else that way?” Flash asked.

They shrugged, shook their heads, and coughed, their eyes red and watery.

A few more steps, and the crews were enveloped by a red haze, reducing visibility to near zero. The building groaned, the fire roared, and suddenly the radios were overloaded with chatter. “Short bursts,” Flash instructed. “We’re looking for victims to rescue first.”

Flash opened her valve, Waylon steadying the high-pressure hose behind her. She lay down spray on the nearest wall, then shut it off. “Fire department, call out!” She couldn’t see the squad team anymore. “Jackson? Arredondo? Smith and Ritter?” She called into her radio.

“We took a right,” Jackson returned. “It’s like tomato soup in here.”

“I’ve got one.” It was Arredondo. Flash recognized his accent.

She laid down another stream of water through a half-open doorway ahead. “Slow and steady, everyone,” she said. “No mistakes.”

She didn’t think about this being the first real test of her command, or that Assistant Chief Velasquez was watching, listening, evaluating her, until long after the operation. In the moment, her focus was true—save lives and put this fire out before it reached the chemical tanks.

Chapter 2

Flash pushed farther into the radiant heat, spraying water on orange bursts of flames along one wall. Twisted ductwork hung from the ceiling like broken ribs, bumping into her helmet in the thick smoke. Waylon was tight to her side, muscling the hose, with Woods and Flores a few yards behind. A metallic tap cut through the noise on the left. She shut off the nozzle.

“Fire department, call out!” Flash shouted. The tapping quickened. “Over there.” She pointed.

A door rattled, blocked by debris sagging from the broken ceiling and cluttering the floor. Waylon raked wreckage aside with his Halligan while Flash used hers to clear pipes and wires dangling overhead.

Four fingers poked through the crack. “Help!”

“Stand back,” Flash ordered. “We’ll get you out.”

Without a word, Flores wedged in his pry bar and pushed. The door scraped the floor, and a woman, holding a cloth over her face, rushed out and into Woods’ arms.

“Get her out,” Flash said. “Then follow the hose line back.”

He nodded. “Ma’am, this way.”

They wouldn’t have visibility until they reached the exit, but Woods could follow the hose. The core of the fire growled somewhere deeper inside ahead of them. Flash pushed toward the heat. “Watch and listen,” she instructed. “More could be trapped back here.”

A heavy blast of heat pushed back with each step. Sweat ran down Flash’s neck beneath the turnout coat. Alarms wailed as her helmet light cast reddish-black smoke in a glow like grains of sand suspended in oil.

Feeling a sudden scalding wave on her left, Flash tested the doorknob. Even through her protective gloves, it burned her hand. She waved Waylon back. “Let’s cool it down.”