Page 51 of Flash Freeze

Chapter 24

Having done this job for years, Flash had seen so many crazy, idiotic things. They say everything is bigger in Texas, which is mostly true. So why, when it came to brains, did so many folks fall short?

They rolled up to the next address to find a smoking charcoal BBQ grill standing in the kitchen of a small house packed with people, its pungent lighter-fluid smell saturating the air. Grandpa was out in a chair, two children were vomiting, a third staggered about, and the mom and dad were almost catatonic. They put out the charcoal, opened up the house, and removed the family to fresh air, where Nita and Al Luis treated them.

Before leaving, she firmly instructed, “Charcoal grills are for outside. You almost all died of carbon monoxide poisoning. And the HFD recommends every home be equipped with a CO detector.”

She wanted to rake the adults over the proverbial coals for being so stupid, but she bit her tongue. Officers behave professionally.

Even with alternating crews from B shift on Engine Eight, dispatch kept them hopping—burst water pipes triggered a fire alarm at Walmart; a multi-car pileup on the freeway overpass; downed power lines. On the last call, they rescued two kids from freezing water after they ventured onto a thin crust of ice covering their backyard pool.

Their relief crew was already waiting in the apparatus bay, checking their gear and replacing spent air cylinders when Engine Eight rolled in. Flash and her firefighters had barely stripped off their frozen coats before the next bell sent the other crew racing out.

Every call felt heavier than the last, and Flash was feeling the weight of it when another came in. “Chimney fire, single-family residence on West Drew.”

“We’re on it. ETA six minutes,” Flash responded.

“We were just over there,” Waylon commented as he hooked a right.

Flash flicked on the lights and sirens. “Yeah, about three hours ago. We’re taking a break after this one.”

“Thank heavens for answered prayers,” Flores said from the back seat. “I’m starving, not to mention chilled to the bone.”

“OK, everybody stay sharp,” Flash instructed. “Chimney fires can be tricky. They can spread to the attic and roof before you know it.”

Outside, snow continued to fall in powdery piles over the layers of ice. Power poles leaned, icicle-encrusted cables bowing under the weight. Thick tree branches drooped. Waylon had to drive around a downed pecan that partially blocked the street, while an eerie gloom blanketed the sky. It seemed as if only the bright red engine retained color in a world brushed in white and gray strokes.

A booming pop outside her window startled Flash, and she whipped her head toward the sound. A blue flash erupted from a transformer, raining sparks over the side of the truck and the surrounding ground. The neighborhood lights went dark, including the traffic signal up ahead. Flash grabbed the radio and called it in while wind whistled through the inch-wide opening in Waylon’s window.

Along the side of the street and in driveways, parked cars were buried in four to five inches of wintry mix. For an instant, Flash could have sworn she was back in high school in Colorado with her youth group. Then she spotted the smoke billowing over a roof ahead.

Waylon pulled the parking brake. Flash informed dispatch that they’d arrived and got out to assess the scene. She was glad to see the family standing at a safe distance on their neighbor’s front lawn, wrapped in blankets. The wind had calmed, but a sudden gust blew the man’s hat off. Flores caught it.

“Save our house!” cried a woman holding a baby. “All our photos, our memories—”

The man interrupted. “I grabbed our old fire extinguisher, took a minute to find it, and emptied the whole thing up the fireplace. It just made a cloud of white powder. The roaring never stopped, and smoke started pouring back into the living room. That’s when I called 911 and got my family out.”

“But Whiskers!” cried the little girl. She strained against her father’s arms, trying to pull away. “Dad didn’t let me go find her. The noise and smoke scared her, and she ran upstairs.”

“Is Whiskers your cat?” Flash asked.

The sobbing girl sniffed and mopped at her eyes. “She’s a cat, but she’s my best friend. You have to save her.”

“I’ll try,” was all Flash could promise. “Cats are very resilient, you know. That’s why people say they have nine lives.” She straightened and turned to her crew. “Waylon, charge a line. Woods, Flores, check the roof for fire extension. I’m going in.”

While her crew got to their tasks, Flash stepped through the front door, past a small foyer, and into the big living room. Considering the temperature and lack of light, she supposed the power was out here as well. Most homes in Houston operated on heat pumps rather than gas furnaces. It was seldom cold enough to warrant a gas furnace, and most homes, especially newer ones, didn’t have basements. Yet wood-burning fireplaces remained popular for ambiance. There was nothing like the crackle of a fire on a cool night, the glow from the hearth, the smell of oak logs.

She didn’t smell oak, but turpentine. The logs in the firebox were coated in white powder, but she could hear the roaring blaze from farther up the flue. Glancing about, Whiskers was nowhere to be seen. Probably under the child’s bed upstairs, she suspected. Where’s Waylon with that hose?

Flash walked out through the front door. “What are y’all doing, building snowmen?”

“You know I have to struggle with these frozen hydrants,” Waylon shouted from three houses down as he manhandled the cap with his hefty wrench.

She clomped through the yard and peered around the corner. Flores heeled the ladder, bracing it with a foot and both hands, while Woods climbed out onto the roof. He kept a hand on the top rung of the ladder as he steadied himself.

“All right up there?” she called.

“Yeah. I strapped some ice cleats on my boots,” he said. “Ordered them next-day delivery when we started getting storm reports. There’s plenty of smoke.”