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The man coughed so fiercely Jude feared he was going to have to stop moving and beat on the man’s back.
“Sixty-one years and I’m grateful for every day of her stubbornness driving me crazy.”
“I understand.”
“You got a stubborn woman, too?”
“Oh, yeah. Stubborn and smart. Sarah’s a doctor. Works in the emergency room at Manhattan Mercy so you may meet her to get that leg checked before the night is up.”
Before they got out of the hallway, the heat had intensified, as had the smoke.
Finally, they made their way to the stairwell and carried the couple down the flights until they met up with other crew.
Other crew who wanted to go the rest of the way up and get out the other missing people.
“We already know the layout of the apartments and where the one woman is hiding. Take the Johnsons down, get them to safety. We’ll get the others.”
At least the ones on that floor. Others from their crew and from several stations around that section of Manhattan were working other floors in the building, fighting the fire, trying to keep it contained and from spreading to the cracker box apartment buildings that were all around. This fire could easily get out of control and take out the entire block. Or worse.
“Thank you,” Mr. Johnson said as he transferred to the other firefighter. “You want me to put in a good word for you if I run across your Sarah?”
“Yeah, if you run across Dr. Sarah Grayson, you do that. Tell her I’m sorry and that I’m crazy about her, while you’re at it,” Jude called, as he took back off up the stairwell, Roger close on his heels.
Jude and Roger made their way back to the floor, back down the smoke-filled hallway, and had to bust into Betty Kingston’s apartment using their axes.
Fortunately, they rescued the terrified frail little woman from right where Clara Johnson had said they’d find her. Her tub. She’d inhaled a lot of smoke and was slightly asphyxiated, but otherwise appeared okay.
Except that she was too weak to make her way out of the apartment. Which wouldn’t be a problem, except Ms. Kingston wasn’t the only victim still on the floor.
“The Millers,” the woman said, amidst a hacking coughing spell.
They needed to get her out, but get to the other couple, too. The other couple they weren’t even for sure were there, but who might be trapped in the apartment next to Ms. Kingston’s. The woman certainly was convinced they were in the apartment.
“Let’s get her to the stairwell,” Roger said. “We’ll hand her over to back-up, then go back for the Millers.”
As they made their way out into the floor hallway, they heard a crash from one of the apartments a few doors down from where they were. Not the apartment where the couple might be but close.
Just then the fire truck’s horn blare could be heard above the fire. Once. Twice. Again.
Roger turned back, his gaze meeting Jude’s. “Not this time, man. We’ve got to get out of here, and you know it. I’ve a bad feeling. This building is about to go.”
Jude cursed.
“You’re right,” he said, knowing there was no time to waste. “Let’s get out of here.”
Roger’s look of relief that Jude wasn’t insisting they clear the other apartment was almost palpable.
Roger loaded up the woman and they made their way to the stairwell.
They were leaving a couple to die. A couple they were in fairly close proximity to.
Someone’s family.
Someone’s father, mother, sister, brother, cousin.
Cousin. Jude needed to apolog
ize to his cousin.
