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''Already on scene. We're sending guys in."
Dutch couldn't leave the blaze. Eva would have to get Jimbo out of there herself. Eva moved her gloved hands down Jimbo's torso. He most likely wore a T-shirt, and though he was a big man and outweighed her by a good one hundred pounds, if he wore a belt she could drag him with the Bowring tool. Her hand met no resistance. He either wore athletic shorts or even boxers. Nothing to attach the Bowring to for leverage.
"Goddamn it," she muttered, reaching for the two inch-wide webbing strapped to her coat. The length stretched twenty feet and was handy for drag rescues. Eva unrolled the webbing, her breathing sounding more rapid in her ears. She used every fiber of her strength to slide the webbing beneath Jimbo, and then she rocked him the other way so she could wrap it under his arms. Tying a quick overhanded knot, she straddled the man and measured the remaining length to even with her face mask. She made a quick overhand knot then divided the segment between the two knots. Lying across Jimbo, she slid the loop around her face piece and helmet and swam one arm through the opening. Then she rocked back so the webbing was secure around her neck. Once the webbing was in the correct place, she crouched like a tiger, keeping her back straight. She lifted with her legs, shoving one hand beneath the knot sitting atop Jimbo's chest, and then she started walking toward the door.
Jimbo felt like a ton of bricks as she shuffled slowly, knowing that if she tripped or fell, his life was in the balance. Hell, he might already be dead, but she would damn sure get him out the way she’d been taught.
The door was only a few feet away when the roof caved.
Eva felt a beam hit her shoulder, and she fell on top of Jimbo.
"Dutch!" she screamed into her mic.
"Here," he said. "Where are you? I can't see you, Eva."
Dutch yelled into the mic, abandoning protocol.
Another shifting occurred and something else fell, some large piece of equipment and it knocked Eva's helmet and mask off.
Acrid smoke enveloped her.
Don't panic. Don't panic.
Her eyes stung and her body ignored the dictates of her mind as she gulped for air, drawing in smoke. It burned like lava.
Coughing, she tried to push the debris off of them. Water poured in, splashing into her eyes but clearing out some of the smoke. Still she couldn't breathe. She gulped for air and all she got was smoke.
She felt her body weakening, her vision narrowing. Jimbo lay to her right. She was certain her legs lay on him. She had to find her mask. She needed the oxygen. They could both die if she didn't. Desperately she clawed to find her SCBA mask but she couldn't find it."Duuu..."
Trying to call Dutch felt futile. Her words wouldn't come and all she could do was gasp for precious air.
But it wasn't there.
She felt herself spiraling into nothingness.
Opening and shutting her mouth, she tried to scream but it was too late. She'd taken in too much smoke. Her lungs burned, her vision blurred. Gulping in more smoke, she succumbed.
And then there was nothing but heat and darkness.
JAKE WAS EATINGdinner at the Golden Wheel Diner when he heard the sirens. He usually carried his radio with him, even when he wasn't on duty, but tonight he'd left it in his truck. He needed to do some thinking, and the constant chatter on the emergency network was distracting. So he'd left it.
At first he crooked an ear toward the door, assuming it was something small. Maybe a wreck or perhaps someone had set an alarm off. So he stuck to pushing around the dry mashed potatoes on his blue plate special, but then he heard the other truck… and then another.
Tossing a ten-dollar bill onto the table, he yelled to Art, "Gotta run, man. This should cover it."
Art waved a tired hand his way. "No worries. Go see what the fuss is."
Jake pushed out the glass door and hurried to his truck. Once there, he flipped on his radio. Jimbo had set off the alarm again all right, but this time he'd done a doozie of a job. Three-alarm blaze.
They hadn't had one of those in almost a year.
Immediately his heart started pounding.
Eva was on the scene.
Ah, come on, man. Eva is as capable as anyone. Actually, she’s more capable than half the department.
But rationalizing how prepared and tough Eva was did nothing to absolve the chunk of cement that was his gut. He pulled out the siren, popped it on the dashboard, and gunned the engine, speeding out of the Golden Wheel, heading to the other side of town where Burlison Tire Center no doubt burned like a bitch.
