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"Did a Gatorade truck just roll by or is this some arcane post-fire ritual?" I asked.
Pete answered, "It's damned hot in a fire with full gear on. You dehydrate. Water to rehydrate and Gatorade for the electrolytes so you don't pass out from the heat."
"Ah," I said.
The fireman who'd been rolling up the hose came over to us. A delicate triangle of face peered out from under the helmet. Clear grey eyes met my gaze. There was a lift to the chin, a way that she held herself that was a challenge. I recognized the symptoms. I had my own mountain-sized chip on my shoulder. I felt like apologizing for assuming she was a man, but didn't. It would have been insulting.
Pete introduced me to the tall man. "This is Captain Fulton. He's Incident Commander on this site."
I offered my hand while he was still thinking about it. His hand was large, big-knuckled. He shook hands like he was afraid to squeeze too hard, and dropped contact as soon as he could. I bet that he was just pleased as punch to have a female fireperson on his unit.
He introduced the fireperson in question. "Corporal Tucker." She offered her hand.
She had a nice firm handshake and eye contact so sincere it was aggressive.
I smiled. "Nice not to be the only woman on the scene for a change."
That brought a very small smile to her face. She gave the barest of nods and stepped back, letting her captain take over.
"How much do you know about a fire scene, Miss Blake?"
"It's Ms. Blake, and not much."
He frowned at the correction. I felt Dolph shift beside me, unhappy with me. His face wouldn't show it, but I could almost feel him willing me not to be a pain in the butt. Who, me?
Corporal Tucker was staring at me, eyes wide, face very still as if she was trying not to laugh.
One of the other firemen joined us. His damp T-shirt clung to a stomach that had required far too many sit-ups, but I enjoyed the view anyway. He was tall, broad-shouldered, blond, and looked like he should have been carrying a surfboard or visiting Barbie in her Malibu dream house. There was a smear of soot on his smiling face, and his eyes were red-rimmed.
He offered his hand without being introduced. "I'm Wren." No rank, just his name. Confident.
He held my hand just a little longer than necessary. It wasn't obnoxious, just interested.
I dropped my eyes. Not out of shyness, but because some men mistake direct eye contact as a come-on. I had about as much beefcake on my plate as I could handle without adding amorous firemen.
Captain Fulton frowned at Wren. "Do you have any questions, Ms. Blake?" He emphasized the Ms. so it sounded like three z's at the end.
"You've got a basement full of vampires that you need to rescue without exposing them to sunlight or getting any of your people eaten, right?"
He stared at me for a second or two. "That's the gist of it."
"Why can't you just leave them in the basement until full dark?" I asked.
"The floor could cave in at any minute," he said.
"Which would expose them to sunlight and kill them," I said.
He nodded.
"Dolph said one vamp was covered with blankets, and rushed to the hospital. Is that why you think the others may not be in their coffins?"
He blinked. "There's also a vampire on the stairs leading down. It's..." His gaze fell, then came up suddenly to grab mine, angry. "I've seen burn victims but nothing quite like this."
"Are you sure it's a vampire?"
"Yes, why?"
"Because vamps exposed to sunlight or fire usually burn completely down to ash and a few bone fragments."
"We doused it with water," Wren said. "Thought it was a person at first."
"What changed your mind?"
It was his turn to look away. "It moved. It was like third-degree burns down to cartilage and muscle, bone, and it held out its hand to us." His face looked pale, haunted. "No person could have done that. We kept coating it with water, thinking maybe we could save it, but it stopped moving."
"So you assumed it was dead?" I asked.
All three of them exchanged glances. Captain Fulton said, "You mean it might not be dead?"
I shrugged. "Never underestimate a vamp's ability to survive, Captain."
"We've got to go back in there and get it to a hospital," Wren said. He turned as if he'd walk back into the house. Fulton caught his arm.
"Can you tell if the vampire is alive or dead?" Fulton asked.
"I think so."
"You think?"
"I've never heard of a vamp surviving fire. So yeah, I thinkI can tell if it's alive. If I said otherwise, I'd be lying. I try not to do that when it's important."
He nodded twice, briskly, as if he'd made up his mind about me. "The arsonist threw accelerant all over the floor that we're going to be walking on top of, and once we're down in the basement that same floor will be above us."
"So?"
"That floor is not going to hold, Ms. Blake. I'm going to make this a strictly voluntary job for my people."
I looked up into his serious face. "How likely is the floor to fall and how soon?"
"No way of knowing. Frankly, I'm surprised it hasn't caved in by now."
"It's a halfway house for the Church of Eternal Life. If it's like the last basement I saw at a Lifer's place, the ceiling is concrete reinforced with steel beams."
"That would explain why it hasn't fallen in," Fulton said.
"So we're safe, right?" I asked.
Fulton looked at me and shook his head. "The heat could have weakened the concrete, or even weakened the tensile strength of the steel beams."
"So it could still fall down," I said.
He nodded. "With us in it."
Great. "Let's do it."
Fulton grabbed my arm and gripped it too tight. I stared at him, but he didn't flinch and he didn't let me go. "Do you understand that we could be buried alive down there or crushed to death, or even drowned if there's enough water?"
"Let go of me, Captain Fulton." My voice was quiet, steady, not angry. Point for me.
Fulton released me and stepped back. His eyes looked a little wild. He was spooked. "I just want you to understand what could happen."
"She understands," Dolph said.
I had an idea. "Captain Fulton, how do you feel about sending your people in to a potential deathtrap to save a bunch of vampires?"
Something passed through his dark eyes. "The law says they're people. You don't leave people hurt or trapped."
"But," I prompted.
"But my men are worth more to me than a bunch of corpses."
"Not long ago I'd have brought the marshmallows and wieners for the roast," I said.
"What changed your mind?" Fulton asked.
"Kept meeting too many human beings that were as monstrous as the monsters. Maybe not as scary, but just as evil."
"Police work will ruin your view of your fellow man," Detective Tammy said. She and Larry had joined us at last. It had taken Larry a long time to cross those yards. He was far too hurt to insist on going inside the house. Good.
"I'll go in because it's my job, but I don't have to like it," Fulton said.
"Fine, but if we do have a cave-in, we better get dug out before nightfall, because without the vamp chaperone we'll be facing a basement full of new vamps that may not have perfect control over their hunger."
His eyes widened, showing too much white. I would have bet money that Fulton had had a close encounter of the fanged kind once upon a time. There were no scars on his neck, but that didn't prove anything. Vamps didn't always go for the neck, no matter what the movies say. Blood flows near the surface in lots of places.
I touched his arm lightly. Tension sang down his muscles like a string pulled too tight. "Who'd you lose?"
"What?" He seemed to be having trouble focusing on me.
"Who did the vampires take away from you?"
He stared at me, dark eyes focusing on me. Whatever horrible image was floating behind his eyes retreated. His face was almost normal when he said, "Wife, daughter."
I waited for him to say more, but the silence gathered round us in a still, deep pool made up of all the horror in those two whispered words. Wife, daughter. Both lost. No--taken.
"And now you have to go into the dark and save some bloodsuckers and risk yourself and your people. That really sucks."
