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Mikey and I suit up while Chief shouts out directions to the rest of the crew.
Mikey and I grab a hose. Together we run along the house, breach the back entrance, and move through the building as quickly as we can. Thick black smoke hangs in the air, and if it weren’t for our breathing apparatus, we’d never make it.
My chest constricts at the thought of Claire and those two boys sitting somewhere in here, struggling to breathe while they wait for us to find them.
Hold on, Claire. I’m going to get you out.
I swallow hard, pushing the fear away as we inch through the house. My mind keeps reverting back to the kiss Claire and I shared, but I shove the thoughts away because my main focus—my only focus—is getting her and those boys out of here.
Mikey stops at the first classroom, but I wave him on. “To the bathroom,” I yell. My voice is muffled by the mask, but he nods, and we move forward, examining each door until we find one labeled Boys.
I reach for my ax, prepared to knock the door down if it’s locked, but when Mikey pushes, it opens. He pushes again, but something causes the door to jam. Mikey gives the door a solid shove, dislodging a dark chunk of material. A sweater or jacket maybe, and I just know Claire put it there.
Good girl.
Flames ripple along the ceiling. I tap Mikey’s shoulder, motioning for him to take the hose and douse the ceiling, covering me as I search the bathroom. Even in turnouts, the heat is hot, and I pray Claire and the boys haven’t passed out.
I cut my way through the heavy smoke until I can see them. Claire has the boys tucked in the back corner of the room. They’re facing away from me. She’s huddled over them, shielding their bodies as best she can, and the tightness in my chest eases just a fraction.
“Claire!” I yell, moving toward them.
Her head whips around, an iota of relief in her terrified gaze.
She opens her mouth, but all that comes out is a strangled cough. Pointing to the boys, she slides out of the way. One of the boys is unconscious, lying in a ball on the ground. The other peels his eyes open to look up at me, and I know he isn’t far behind the other.
Mikey steps up and checks the boys’ pulses while I pull out the extra oxygen masks. We place them over the boys and hand one to Claire. She situates it on her face and takes a few hits of oxygen.
I pull it away, allowing her time to cough before guiding it back to her mouth. “Slow, deep breaths,” I instruct. “We’re going to get you guys out of here.”
She squeezes her eyes shut, tears falling down her face, and I fight every instinct I have to keep from pulling her into my arms. Right now she doesn’t need affection or comfort, she needs to survive, and I’m ninety-nine-percent certain she has no idea who I am with my mask and gear on, which is probably a good thing. We both need to stay focused.
Mikey grabs the boy who’s still awake, and I grab the other. “Are you okay to move?” I speak loudly so she can hear me through the mask, and she nods.
We turn toward the door, but the smoke is heavy, cutting our visibility to nothing. Mikey looks at me, and we lower ourselves to the floor, each of us cradling a boy against our side. Claire follows suit without guidance.
“I’ll go first. Claire, you stay between me and Mikey.” I grab onto the hose, motioning for her to do the same.
Slowly, we move along the wall and out of the bathroom. With the young boy tucked under my arm, I keep moving forward, knowing Mikey is behind Claire.
Every few seconds Claire coughs, but when I look back, she gives me a thumbs up. Debris is falling around us, but we eventually make it down the long hallway, and when the back door becomes visible, with specks of sunlight slicing through the dark clouds, I send up a silent prayer.
I can’t see my fellow firefighters, but I know they’re out there, keeping the flames at bay while we make the rescue.
“Almost there,” I yell.
The closer we get to the back door, the better my visibility gets, and when the roar of the fire starts to die, I make a split-second decision to get us the hell out of here. Pushing to our feet, Mikey and I stand up. I reach down for Claire to help her up, but she doesn’t move.
“Can you stand?”
She coughs, shaking her head. She blinks up at me, her lids sluggish, and I know she’s running out of time.
I pass my boy off to Mikey. He hoists them both, making sure he has a good grip, and then he runs, following the hose out of the house.
I scoop Claire off the floor, and with her limp body in my arms, I make a mad dash for the back door.
A loud crack resonates through the air. My crew is yelling, waving at us through the doorway, and I keep plowing forward as I hear it again—another snap followed by a pop. I look up as the ceiling crumples, and I have just enough time to curl my body around Claire’s, acting as a human shield against the falling debris, before it hits.
Chunks of the ceiling land on top of us with enough force to steal my breath. My body crumples over Claire’s. My vision blurs, everything around me going black. I blink rapidly, struggling to stay awake, but it’s too much. With a ragged breath, I press my mask to Claire’s forehead, offering a silent apology for failing her yet again.
