Chapter Four
“So then she brings me her phone and tells me I’ll never believe who popped up in her Snaptalk or whatever it’s called.”
Gavin rolled his eyes, wishing Jeff would tell the story of the Snapchat picture a little bit faster. As soon as he got upstairs and saw that some smart-ass had put a printed and framed copy of the photo on top of the table the television sat on, he’d known this twenty-four-hour shift was going to feel like days.
“As soon as I saw that hair sticking up, I didn’t even have to zoom in to know it was Boudreau.” They all laughed while Gavin self-consciously smoothed a hand over the crown of his head. Stupid cowlick. “I told her I wanted a copy, but she said she couldn’t save it or whatever or the other kid would know, so I had to take a picture of her phone.”
“So your daughter and the EMT’s brother are friends?” Aidan asked.
“They have friends in common, I guess. He included her because he knows her dad’s a firefighter, though he doesn’t know who I am, or that I know the guy he’s taking pictures of.”
“She didn’t tell him?” Gavin asked.
“Nah. She just sent back an LOL or whatever it is the kids say.”
So there was a very small chance Cait didn’t know he’d watched her walk away. There had been no OMG, he’s Ladder 37 with my dad from Jeff’s daughter to her brother. And maybe Carter didn’t want his sister to know he was taking pictures of strangers—and her—and sending them to his friends to make fun of on the internet, so she might not even know the photo existed.
“I would have looked, too,” Grant said, making a yeah, I’d hit that face toward the framed picture. “I mean check out—”
He let the words die when Gavin gave him a look, but the other guys laughed. “She’s hot. I checked out her ass. End of story.”
But it wasn’t the end of the story, of course. They didn’t miss even the slightest opening to crack a joke about pictures, asses, EMTs, markets or pretty much anything, since they didn’t even care if the jokes made sense. He did his best not to give them a reaction, but it got old fast.
It was almost a relief when the tones sounded for a second alarm and they ran for the apparatus bay.
For some reason yet to be determined, a truck’s engine had caught fire. The driver panicked and drove it into the corner of a house, and now the truck and the house were on fire.
They got set up and waited to see if they’d be sent in now, as relief for the crews already on it, or held for the overhauling. It didn’t look too bad and he knew they’d already gotten the mother—who’d been knocked unconscious in the initial impact—out of the building, so Gavin assumed they’d go in after and poke around, making sure it was fully extinguished and no longer a hazard.
He glanced over to where they’d staged the EMS for fire standby. And, of course, it was just his luck to see Cait and her partner standing next to their ambulance in their turnout gear.
She was totally focused on the house, her profile to him. Her dark hair was pulled back into the ponytail she always seemed to wear and she had no makeup on, though he wasn’t sure if that was by choice or she just didn’t for work. Either way, he liked it. She was a beautiful woman, even if she was a pain in the ass.
“Do you think if you stare at her long enough she’ll turn around so you can check out her butt again?”
Gavin tore his gaze away from Cait and turned to scowl at Scott. “You need some new material, Kincaid.”
“I bet if we stand here long enough, you’ll give me some.”
They did end up standing around for longer than Gavin liked, especially in fucking January. But eventually the fire was knocked down and the building deemed stable enough for them to go in and make sure it was fully extinguished.
He glanced over to see if EMS was still on scene. The paramedic unit was gone but not the EMTs, and he caught Cait looking at him. Their eyes met and he wasn’t sure what to make of it, so he gave her a cocky smile, since that seemed to annoy her. Sure enough, she rolled her eyes and turned back to face her partner.
They went inside and poked and prodded at the house, looking for potential hot spots. Gavin was pulling Sheetrock upstairs to check for fire in the walls when another call came over the radio.
Possibility of a second victim in residence. The six-year-old boy got sick and was dismissed to his mother before lunch, according to the school. His name is Hunter. Current location unknown.
He froze for a few seconds, processing that information, and saw Jeff do the same at the other end of the hall. The neighbor who’d told the first crew on the scene that the mother was in the house must have seen the kids all leave for school, but not noticed the mom leaving and returning home with the boy.
“Okay,” Jeff said calmly over the radio. “Likely locations for a sick kid would be the couch, his bed, the bathroom or maybe Mom’s bed. Listen hard and check the usual hiding places.”
They called out his name, listening for even the faintest cry for help. Gavin ran down the hall, glancing into rooms until he spotted the decor of a six-year-old boy. A quick look got him nothing, and Jeff was right on his heels.
“I’ll check under the bed and in the closet. Go to the master bedroom but be careful because it’s fucked up.”
Hunter must have tried to get to his mom when the truck crashed into that corner of the house because he wasn’t in the bed. Through the lingering smoke and Sheetrock dust, Gavin saw a pale white hand sticking out from a tall, heavy bookcase. Books and smashed knick-knacks were everywhere, so as he updated the others, he had to dig to find the boy.
His head was bleeding and he was so white—even in the lips—that Gavin was afraid he was dead. He had an open compound fracture in the leg and he’d lost a lot of blood, but he had a pulse.
“I need a paramedic now,” he told the others.
* * *
The paramedic had been released to a cardiac arrest call, so Cait checked her gear and grabbed her bag. “I got this.”
They never talked about it, but Cait always took the lead when a call involved kids about the same age as Tony’s kids. He did his job, but it was tough on him and the emotional fallout worse for him if they lost a child.
“Be careful,” he said, staying behind in case she needed something from the truck.
“Always.”
Danny Walsh met her at the front door and guided her through the house to the upstairs master bedroom. It was like something from a carnival house of horrors. The floor was slanted toward the crumpled outside wall, and the ceiling was half caved in. A couple of firefighters were lifting a bookcase off her patient and she started to move, but Gavin—who was kneeling next to the boy—held up a hand.
“Let them out first. I want as few people in here as possible. It doesn’t feel solid.”
She stepped aside and let the two guys out. It only took them a few seconds, but they were valuable seconds and she felt her impatience growing. Finally, she was at the boy’s side and she swept aside some books and broken glass to kneel beside him.
She radioed in to request the first available paramedic and then heard shouts from somewhere in the house, followed by a pounding of boots.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she opened her bag.
“Reflash.” She glanced up at him, and his mouth was set in a grim line. “The house is on fire again. Below us. They want us out.”
“He can’t be moved yet.” If she didn’t get a tourniquet on his leg, he was going to bleed out. And she hadn’t even assessed his head injury.
“I’ll pick him up and carry him out.”
“If you do that, he’ll probably die. I need a few minutes.”
“We might not have a few minutes.”
“Then go.”
She didn’t even have to look up from her patient to gauge his reaction. The fuck that echoed through the room was enough.
“I want you out of here.” His voice was harsh, almost raspy. “Tell me what to do and I’ll take care of him.”
There was too much to do, and they didn’t have the time for her to explain it. “I’m not leaving him.”
“Get the fuck out of here, Tasker.”
“I’m not leaving him, Boudreau, so if you wanna go, go. Don’t waste your time barking at me.”
His gaze locked with hers, his mouth set in a grim line. “I won’t go without you.”
For a long moment, she felt the weight of her decision being potentially life or death—his life or death versus the child’s life or death. They’d been ordered out. If they moved the boy now he’d die.
They couldn’t save everybody.
She knew the rules and she was prepared to break them, and damn the consequences.
“Please go,” she whispered.
* * *
Not fucking happening.
Gavin gave a status report to everybody on the receiving end of the radio as he turned his back on Cait to assess the situation.
She could tell him to leave. The commissioner himself could get on the radio and order him to leave. Hell, they could get his mother outside with a megaphone, yelling for him to get his sorry butt out of there or she’d drag him out by his damn earlobe. He wasn’t leaving without Cait and she wasn’t leaving without her patient.
So all he had to do was keep them safe until the child could be moved or more help came.
Suddenly, the entire world seemed to shift and he threw himself at Cait and the boy. He was able to block most of the falling debris from hitting Hunter, but they were dropping and sliding. The noise was deafening, and then it went dark as the wall with the big window caved.
Then it was still and all he could hear was his breath and Cait’s ragged cough. He took out his light and turned it on. The room they’d been in was now just a small box with no openings, because they’d all been crushed or were blocked by debris.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think so.” Cait nodded and then wiped at her eyes before turning all of her attention back to her patient.
They were yelling his name on the radio, so he told them they were okay, but they weren’t going to get out on their own.
The smoke was a problem. It wasn’t getting worse, but with no place to vent, it wasn’t getting any better, either. And the Sheetrock dust didn’t help. When Cait coughed deeply and then lowered her face to check the boy’s breathing, he knew it was a big problem.
He knew the rules. He was no help to anybody if he succumbed to the smoke, so the mask stayed on his face.
It took him a few seconds to get out of his gear, and then he held the mask out to her. “Get a seal and take a few breaths. Then try to seal it on him for a few minutes as best you can.”
She shook her head. “You can’t get us out of here if you can’t breathe.”
“When I need to, I’ll put it back on for a minute, then you can. Then back to him.” She still didn’t move. “I won’t push it. I promise.”
She only took a few breaths before putting it over Hunter’s face. Gavin knew it wouldn’t be a good seal, but it was better than nothing. He listened to the chatter on the radio and could hear stuff happening outside. Occasionally they’d ask him questions he’d answer.
He and Cait each took a turn with the mask, and he gave her a reassuring smile. “I know his leg’s bad, but it won’t be long.”
“It’s not just the leg. I’m pretty sure there’s internal bleeding.” She paused and he watched her throat move as she swallowed hard. It was the only crack in her composure. “He doesn’t have a lot of time.”
Gavin heard what she didn’t say. Hunter was going to die before they were able to safely extricate them according to protocol and he felt a rush of panicked helplessness.
But he pushed it down and gave her a sharp nod to acknowledge that he understood. Then he looked around the small space, taking stock of the situation before making his decision. They couldn’t wait.
He dug his fingers into the cracked Sheetrock and pulled until a chunk broke off. He kept breaking off pieces until the insulation was exposed. After pulling that out and tossing it aside, he looked at the back side of the plywood sheathing.
It was either going to work, or he was going to find out the plywood was holding this corner of the room up. He looked over his shoulder at Cait and, after a few seconds, she nodded.
He didn’t have a lot of room, but he got down on his side and kicked hard at the center of the plywood. It didn’t give a lot, but he kicked again. There were voices outside and he heard the scratching sound of the melted vinyl siding being pulled free.
“We can’t use the saw,” Rick told him over the radio. “If we cut the studs, it’ll collapse.”
“We just need to cut out a big enough area to pass a board through. We’ll strap him the best we can and send him out sideways.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s his only chance,” Cait broke in.
“Get the reciprocating saw and make a vertical cut through where I knock,” Gavin said. “I’ll tell you where you can cut.”
It felt like a slow process, but he knew it was really only a couple of minutes before they had a rough cutout big enough to pass a board through the studs. And big enough to hand a little boy out.
“I’ll get his torso,” Cait said. “You get him behind the knees. Slow and smooth to the board.”
“His leg is—”
“He’s unconscious and the only thing we can do for that leg is get him to a surgeon.”
They strapped him to the board from his head to his ankles, and then slowly and carefully tipped him sideways and passed the board through the hole. As soon as the guys outside had his head, Cait let go and stripped off all her gear, including her boots.
She put her arms and head between the studs and told the guys to pull. Gavin had no choice but to lift her by the legs and support her until they had her.
He didn’t think he’d fit, so he tossed their gear through the hole and then had to wait while they figured out how to extract him.
“We can probably cut one of the studs out without jeopardizing the wall,” Rick said finally.
“Probably?”
The LT grinned at him through the hole. “Almost definitely.”
By the time they got him out, Cait was gone and he assumed she’d climbed in the ambulance with her patient. She would stay with them, relating what info she had and assisting the paramedic, until they handed the boy over to the doctors.
It was her partner, Tony, who snapped his attention away from her. “Let’s check you out.”
“I’m fine.”
“You took your mask off.”
Gavin didn’t know if it was a guess or somebody—maybe Cait during the brief time they’d been extracting him from the house—had told him, but it didn’t matter. He was okay. “I just need some water. Did you get all her gear?”
After Tony nodded, Gavin walked to where the volunteers had the canteen truck set up and turned down their offer of coffee or hot chocolate for a bottle of water. He was thirsty and having to call Tony back because he’d scorched his throat guzzling coffee wasn’t his idea of a good time.
When they were cleared to return to quarters, it was a quiet ride. They were all a little subdued after a situation went sideways, when the should-haves and what-ifs ran through their minds. And they’d wonder about Hunter and his mom until they saw an update on the evening news or heard something through the grapevine.
He took a quick shower and sat on the couch, propping his stockinged feet on the table. His intention had been to turn the TV on and channel surf until he found something mindless to stare at.
Instead, he stared at the framed photo next to the television. He knew it was just the luck of the draw, so to speak, that Cait’s ambulance had been the closest to respond for fire standby. That she was the one in that room with him.
There had been no panic in her eyes. Tension. A little fear. But mostly what he’d seen on her face was determination. She knew the risks and she wasn’t leaving the boy. He knew what that felt like, and he respected the hell out of anybody who could remain calm and focused in that kind of situation.
He shifted his gaze to Rick Gullotti, who was sitting in the recliner, watching him stare at the picture. “Hey, LT.”
“How you doing?”
“I’m good. Anybody hear anything about the little boy yet? Or his mom?”
“Not yet. The news might have something. Don’t take your mask off again.”
Gavin nodded, because that was the right thing to do. He knew why he’d done it and Rick knew why he’d done it, but they both acknowledged it wasn’t what he was supposed to do.
“Food’s almost ready, so let’s eat.” He pushed himself out of the chair. “I’m surprised we haven’t had to drag you out of the pantry yet, like a freakin’ raccoon.”
“I had a Snickers in the truck.”
They got through the meal and the evening news—from which they learned both victims of the earlier incident were expected to make full recoveries—before the tones went off for a motor vehicle accident with entrapment. A couple hours later, they responded to a carbon monoxide alarm before hitting the bunks.
When an alarm went off and it was his phone rather than dispatch, Gavin was surprised they’d made it through the night without interruption. He’d slept hard and rather than go home and crawl into bed for a power nap, he’d probably find some breakfast and then get some errands done.
Grant popped his head into the bunk room as he was stowing his tablet and charger into his bag. “Hey, Gavin, there’s somebody here to see you.”
“Unless it’s a supermodel with a sandwich in one hand and a beer in the other, I’m not here.”
“Beer?”
Shit, it was morning. “Breakfast sandwich and a coffee, then.”
“It’s that EMT with the great ass who doesn’t like you.” Grant chuckled. “She said not to hurry. She’ll wait while you finish up.”
Gavin sighed and zipped the duffel bag shut. Screw the beer and screw the coffee. A nice shot of whiskey wouldn’t hurt.