January 8, 2015

Gideon Grimes smashed another window as he and his best friend, Ryan Callaghan, were tasked with venting the third floor of the apartment building. If they managed the fire fast enough, they could stop the spread to the surrounding buildings. By his count, there had been at least fourteen rescues between him and Ryan so far. Adrenaline surged and maintained his cool as flames licked the walls, eating away at the blistering wallpaper. He breathed slowly through the self-contained breathing apparatus, regulating his breathing to last through the growing blaze. His SCBA was getting a helluva lot of use. Fifteen fires in four weeks. The unusual cold snap had already taken its toll on the city. Fires caused by people try to keep warm were their number one call right now.

Callaghan held up four fingers and signaled the hallway.

Four more rooms on this floor, then they would move up. “Grimm, get the door. It’s locked. We need your expertise.” Callaghan moved away.

“With pleasure.” The fire roared around him as Grimm pulled his forcible entry tool free. They called it the PIG. The head was eight pounds of steel, a flat-head on one side and a pick-head on the other. There was nothing beautiful about it, except the way it got shit done when hell was on your heels.

“Clear,” he called. Grimm gripped it at the head and handle and made a quick visual measurement. One, two, swing. The pick swung hard and lodged deep in the door jam, just as satisfying as hitting a home run. He jerked the handle toward the door, and used the tool’s leverage and his own considerable body weight to splinter the lock.

It swung open and Grimm dropped to his knee. The last thing he wanted was a face full of fire if the room was already lost. Smoke rushed out. No fire. “All clear.” He moved inside. Callaghan moved past him to sweep the apartment. A woman was collapsed in the hallway. Grimm called it in. “Lieutenant, this is Callaghan. Third floor. We got one.”

“Roger that. Be advised the structure is destabilizing. You need to get your asses to the north stairwell ASAP.”

“Is there anyone else in the room with you, ma’am?” Callaghan put the breather over the woman’s face. He shook his head, and Grimm broke through the other rooms. Nothing.

An explosion rocked the building, shuddering up through Grimm’s contact with the floor. “Fuck! Move. Now.” The building shifted, the first groan of wood and pop of breaking support beams chilled Grimm to the bone. He grabbed Ryan and dragged them out of the room. For a split second he thought of Ryan Callaghan’s cousin. She had graduated from vet school today. If he let Ryan get even a scratch on him, that woman would probably lecture him to death.

The room collapsed behind them. Callaghan grinned at him through the mask as he rushed past him. “Shit, thanks. Be advised, third floor is collapsing. Get clear,” he shouted into the mic.

“Thank me when we get out her out of here.”

Callaghan rushed ahead. Grimm followed behind, PIG at the ready in case they had to fight their way through. They reached the stairwell just as the ceiling fell.

He saw the beam a moment before impact. Pain splintered from the side of his head. He felt the impact as it smashed the seal around his mask. The impact sparked one helluva fourth of July behind his eyelids. Grimm could feel fire lapping at him, wrapping around him, hungry and willing to make a snack out of what was left. It took a moment to clear his head, and see flames dance across the beam in front of his face. He felt around for the PIG and shoved it under the wood, leveraging the debris away from his trapped legs. He dragged free and got to his feet.

A lurch toward the stairwell showed a nasty hole where the floor had collapsed. The ceiling collapse behind him meant he had to go forward. He edged around it. Smoke leaked into his SCBA and he winced.

The woman was lying halfway in the stairwell door, her arm obviously broken, but otherwise still sound. Callaghan was nowhere to be seen. “This is Grimm. The third floor collapsed under our feet. I have the rescue, but she’s been injured. I can’t see Callaghan.” He used the breather on the woman.

Through the smoke and flames, he could see Ryan waving at him from the stairwell below. A strange buzzing echoed in his ears, and Grimm wondered fleetingly if the radio was fritzing out. He hoped it still worked from his side. “Callaghan is ahead of me. Lieutenant, I’m coming in hot with one. My suit is compromised. North stairwell.” His throat was raw. The acrid smoke hit his lungs while he lifted the woman up. The breather still worked so he gave her rescue air as he struggled to his feet. His left eye burned and the throbbing in his head grew worse.

He moved as quick as he dared. His head pounded with every slam of his heart, but he pushed through. The vision in his left eye grew worse, until the only thing he could see was the faint outline of Ryan leading him through the fire. When this was over, he was buying his friend a six pack of that expensive beer he loved to parade around with. And maybe a pizza. A cough wracked his body and his eyes burned from the smoke, but he pushed on.

Callaghan found paths where there shouldn’t have been one. The woman in his arms struggled, but he held her tight. The broken arm was worrisome, but so was the fact that he could barely see a foot in front of him through the blurriness of his vision. He brought her out of the fire, stumbling as he walked, the buzzing in his head worse than before. Hands pulled her from his arms and he dropped to a knee, coughing.

“His suit’s been compromised.”

Yeah, I already said that. The thought never made it to his lips.

They wrenched the mask off and fresh air hit his lungs, sending him a wrenching, agonizing cough.

Light reflected in his eyes as the paramedics did their thing. “We’re going to put patches on both your eyes, Grimm. One of your eyes are injured, and we’re just doing that as a precautionary measure. Do you understand? Lift one finger for yes, two for no.”

He lifted his index finger through another cough. Darkness descended as they wrapped his face in enough gauze to mummify him. He expected Ryan’s jokes any moment.

“Don’t try to speak. Answer our questions the way we told you, okay? Burns?”

He lifted two fingers as they moved to strap him down to a hard board. Head, arms, and neck. All precautions necessary with a head injury. Being blind and restricted unraveled his calm. He continued answering the questions he could without speaking.

“You’re going to the hospital, Grimm.” The Lt.’s voice sounded exhausted. “Can you speak now?”

Grimm wanted to nod, but he’d been strapped down.

“What happened to Callaghan?”

Grimm’s lungs finally stopped spasming enough for him to speak. “If Callaghan hadn’t lead me out of there, I’d have been a goner.”

“Callaghan was ahead of you?”

“Yeah, you should have seen him first.”

The Lt clapped him gently on the arm. “Dean, where’s Callaghan?”

“Hasn’t made it out, sir.”

“No, that’s impossible.” Grimm tried to get up. The straps across his chest and head didn’t budge. “He was right in front of me.”

“Settle down. We’ll find him.”

From the edge of the fire, he could make out Ryan’s form. Grimm jerked up and pushed the hands away from him. “He was right there with me, man. What do you mean he hasn’t made it out?”

“He may have gone back in. We’ll find him. Don’t worry. Get to the hospital and let them look you over. A head injury is nothing to sneeze at.”

He struggled in the restraints.

“He’s not going to make this easy.”

“Put him out.”

“I can’t, not with a possible concussion.”

Their words disappeared in that buzzing white noise he’d experienced in the fire. He replayed every moment in the fire, reworking it in his head.

“Ryan lead me out of the fire.”

“Stop fighting, son. If he’s still in there, we’ll find him.”

Pain ripped him apart from the inside, and he stopped struggling, falling back on the ground and staring up at the darkness the bandages created. Beyond the fringes of his vision, he could see a tinge of red fire still peeking through.

The throbbing of his head grew, but the agony was nothing compared to those last few moments when he lost sight of his best friend in the fire. It replayed over and over in his mind, until the sirens drowned out the sounds of explosions and splintering wood echoing in his head.