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I stop in the dim hall when he raises a hand, and wait for a beat for his command. Heat wafts from the door, waves of steam and fire that would eat through my turnouts if given half a chance.
“Opening now,” he breathes out. “We gotta check everywhere for this stoner kid. I’m gonna be pissed as hell if we find out he’s passed out somewhere in the forest, sleeping off his munchies.”
Slowly, methodically, just like we do in training, he pushes the door wide and reveals a room engulfed in flames. An old four-poster bed creates a frame in the center of the room, like a burning cross, while my eyes jump from floor to ceiling.
Curtains, lit up and most of the way destroyed, flap in the wind the blaze creates. The mattress in the middle of the room sizzles, and steel springs poke through where the fabric has already burned away.
“Aw, shit,” I groan and look toward the closet on the far wall.
Where a mirror once stood, glass now litters the worn carpet. An old chest of drawers is now nothing more than a pile of rubble.
I speak out loud for my team, for my boss. Hell, for Idalia too, as she listens to make sure her man stays safe. “It’s lit up, Cootes.”
“Over there!”
I spin at Nix’s shout and squint through the thick black smoke clogging the room.
“I see something,” he confirms.
“I’ve got your six.” I fall into step at his back and follow him toward the bed. “Do you copy this, Cootes?”
“Yeah, Axe. I copy.”
I thrust my arm forward when I catch movement on the other side of the bed. “There!”
“We found him!” Nixon races closer, but his eyes turn upward. Cautious. “The ceiling has come away in here, but the roof is still on. It’s putting a lid on the fire, but it’s gonna give soon, and once she’s got her oxygen, it’s going up. Axe!”
“Yeah, Lew. I’m following you.”
I breathe in as I dog his steps. Breathe out as the sound of my air echoes through my helmet.
I come to a crouch beside a man—a boy… a teen at best—and study his broken body. Possible fractured arm. Dislocated jaw. Gash on his brow and cheek.
“We’re gonna need paramedics on standby,” Nix orders. “Kid must’ve caught some of the falling ceiling. Lacerations on his face and chest.” Gloved hands come down to touch the guy’s jaw. “He’s unconscious, but breathing.”
“Copy that,” Cootes responds. “Bring him out. We have medics on standby, and we’re bringing the hoses around.”
“Yep.” Nix grunts from somewhere deep in his chest and pushes up to stand, slinging the victim’s body over his shoulder despite possible broken bones. The kid might hurt more when he wakes up, but it’s better than staying here and dying. “We’re coming out.”
I step in front of the duo and turn back to find a new section of ceiling falling to the carpet. Another streamer of flames adding carnage to the mess that already exists.
“On your right, Lew.” I move to shield the pair when a beam drops from the roof.She’s coming down, and soon.“Watch it.”
“I see it.” Nix’s breath comes out heavy, but measured. Controlled. “Watch your step,” he commands. “Lead us out.”
So I clear the way and head through the bedroom door, into the hall outside and toward the top of the stairs. “Coming down now,” I murmur.
Twisting back, I peek up at my boss and the boy he carries on his shoulders. I raise my hands, like I could catch the pair if they fall. “Take it slow, Lew. Don’t trip now.”
“Let’s go, Nixon!” Mitchell Rosa—Nix’s brother, who just so happens to be a paramedic on duty today—shouts across the radios for us all to hear. “You know my ass ain’t allowed in there, so if I don’t see my baby brother and my patient out here in the next twenty, I’m gonna drive my rig right through that bitch and get you.”
“Twenty?” Nixon’s heavy footsteps echo on each stair as we descend. “That’s loads of time.”
“Twenty seconds, fucker! Move your ass, or I’m telling the girls you’re playing with fire. Idalia will whip you.”
“Idalia will be fine.” Nixon’s breath comes a little faster as we descend. “She knows I’m being careful.”
I continue down backwards, my eyes on Nix—which is a rookie fucking move, really. I know better. “Lew, I’m gonna—”
