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I leap to my feet and dive into the place where the fire hasn’t engulfed everything in its path yet. I can see it converging behind me as I half skip, half run. When will it end? When will I get somewhere safe?
When will I wake up?
I snapped awake, taking a huge, guttural breath of air, my eyes wide and searching for the flames again.
Where was the fire? Was I still running? Was I still in danger? What about the cries of those people who needed my help?
Nothing made sense, and my heart was thumping in my chest, making me feel like it was going to burst out. I was in an ambulance. I recognized that much. But I still had my gear on, and I was alone. The bus was parked somewhere dark, but there were dim lights outside. I was lying on the ground beside a gurney, seemingly having fallen off it at some point, as it was turned sideways and caught against the bottom of the shelves on the side.
I fell asleep here. I remembered that now. I fell asleep in the ambulance. I pulled my sleeve up to check my watch, the one my father and my grandfather wore. I had been asleep for two hours. I realized I couldn’t hear anything outside of the ambulance, which meant we weren’t out in the open field anymore. They had driven the bus somewhere with me in it, and I never woke up.
I lay back down and clenched my eyes shut, trying desperately to calm my heart down enough to not feel like I needed to vomit. Taking deep breaths and staring at the ceiling, trying to count down from five to one with each breath, I felt things starting to settle. My heart slowed down and didn’t feel like it was being clenched by someone reaching into my chest with a vise.
I opened my eyes, and the blurry, dark, spinning world I had woken up to was much clearer, much calmer. Sitting up, I felt like the terror and fog that had been filling my mind was dissipating, to the point that I couldn’t even remember the dream. All I knew was that there was fear and fire. I unbuckled my coat, pulling it off my shoulders and relishing in the cool air hitting the sweat-soaked white T-shirt underneath.
Scooting to the edge of the bus, I pushed on the door and found it only partially shut. It swung open easily, and light flooded my vision, making me squint and groan. The sun was up and peeking over the mountains, filling the garage with yellow beams. I stepped out gingerly and grabbed my coat, stumbling toward the door to the firehouse.
The small garage just for the EMS crew was attached to the back of the house, allowing me to go in and, using a short hallway, end up right at the lockers. At this time of the morning, it should be fairly empty, with one shift having just started. Most likely, all the other guys from my shift would have gone home by now. God knew I sent enough of them back to the station before I zonked out.
Locker rooms almost always have the same smell, but when I walked into ours, all my nose could pick up was the remnant burning smell that came from inhaling so much smoke. I had spent all evening and all night battling that fire, and now my entire body was emanating the aftermath. I needed a shower and a bed, and when I plopped heavily onto the bench in front of my locker, I was already envisioning how sweet it would be to crawl under clean white sheets.
I changed out of my uniform, not bothering to get out of the shirt or boxers I was wearing. I’d toss those into the washer when I got home. Slipping on jeans and my sneakers, I grabbed my wallet and keys and shut the locker door. It was after six, which meant the chief was probably in the office. I should at least stop by and give him a rundown on how the night went.
Gripping the handle of the door to the main hallway, I heard voices outside and paused. One of them sounded like the chief, and the other distant and tinny, like it was coming from a speakerphone. I opened the door and saw Chief McDaniel walking toward me in the hallway, surprise and something almost approaching happiness in his face. The slight, almost imperceptible rise of the corners of his lips and his eyes opening ever so slightly more than usual was the closest thing I think I had ever seen to joy coming from him.
“Duggan!” he barked, marching over to me. In my still half-awake and fumbling state, I thought he was coming to fight for a second. But that was just Chief McDaniel—he always looked like he was barreling at you with a football, and you were the last defensive back between him and the endzone.
