The siren’s sharp squeals always sent a burst of adrenaline down Jack’s spine. His heart rate sped up and his stride lengthened. It was time to swing into action. When he’d first started on the job, he’d figured he’d get used to the nerves. Everything would settle down, and after a while he wouldn’t feel like he was about to charge into war anymore.
It took him a full two minutes to gather the necessary information. It was a big one, an office building near the river with an electrical failure. It had already jumped to multiple floors. They weren’t the only engine house being dispatched. At least a dozen different engines would be there, and Captain Nico Reese from Midtown would be in charge of organizing everything.
Good. Jack fell into line, pulling on bunker gear along with the rest of his men. These days he spent more time filling out paperwork than he wanted to admit, but he could still walk through fire when necessary. He buttoned his jacket tight, slid his feet into heavy boots, and picked up his helmet.
Right next to him Diesel Evers was doing the exact same thing, double-checking his equipment as he went with a quick carefulness that came from years of practice. Damn. They’d been lucky to get him as a transfer.
“Let’s go!” Jack ordered and bodies scrambled for the truck. Then they were moving.
The average end-to-end response time for a structural fire was under six minutes, but the office building was north of Times Square and the traffic was a bitch. When their truck finally fishtailed onto the right road they were stuck between two other trucks. He fiddled with his radio until Reese’s chatter cleared up. “Captain Tracey reporting in with the—”
“Your people are going in, Jack,” Reese snapped out the orders. “We’ve got most everything below the fire evacuated, but the university rents rooms on the top two floors for the economics department, and class was in session. Get them moving and then you can come over to command—”
“I’m going in with them.”
“You suited and booted?”
“I’m ready to rumble.”
“Good man.”
Jack started giving orders. It wasn’t the first time they’d been used for an insertion, most of his men had paired up already, but there were still a few stragglers whose normal partners had been caught at the station with their pants down or called out sick. “Juracek, you’re with Barnes,” he called out over the crowd. “Evers, you’re with me.” He started moving forward without checking to make sure Diesel had heard him, but a moment later there was the heavy thud of footsteps behind him as his newest firefighter fell into line.
Reese’s voice was slow and steady over the line, giving Jack all the information he needed to know. The electrical fire was on multiple floors, but they could still take one bank of usable elevators up to floor twenty-two. They’d have to walk the rest of the way.
Thank God for small favors. Jack ran the bleachers twice a week at the high school near his house as part of his training regime, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to climbing a high rise without assistance.
The elevators had all been recalled to the ground when the fire alarm went off. Now, they could only be activated with an elevator key. Jack fumbled his key out of his pocket while he strode across the office building’s wide marble foyer. The team packed into two elevators near the back. He walked into the one on the right. Diesel was still one step behind them. When they were all crowded in, he stuck the key in the control bank, turned the elevator on and up they went.
On floor twenty-two the elevator dinged and the doors opened wide. They split up into smaller teams, heading to the eight different emergency stairwells spread throughout the building. The goal was to test all the entrances. Someone had to be able to get past the fire. That was the theory anyway. It might even work if they’d been fast enough and if the people upstairs were lucky.
Jack and Diesel took the southwest corner. The emergency stairwells weren’t as well appointed as the foyer. The floors were still real stone, but they weren’t marble. On some levels they were slick and slippery from sprinklers going off. Jack concentrated on putting one foot solidly in front of the other, no matter how thick the smoke got. He wouldn’t be able to help anyone if he fell and twisted his ankle. One foot in front of the other until he couldn’t see his feet at all.
They must have made it through because the next time he looked up they were on the top floor, and he could hear people yelling. He alerted the rest of his team in case one of the other pairs had started up a blocked staircase. Then he checked in with his silent partner. “You doing okay, Diesel?”
“Fine, boss.”
“Uh-huh.” Tension gathered at the base of his neck. Technically speaking, Diesel had answered the question and fast. In the heat of the moment a two-word affirmation was better than nothing, but he’d still rather have all the information. Did his feet hurt? Was there a twinge in his spine or a pre-existing injury that was beginning to flare up all over again? If they got into a situation where Diesel was the only thing that stood between a crowd of college students and an angry fire, would he be able to take the heat?
No time to worry about that now. Jack braced his feet against the floor and shouldered open the door to the top level. The smoke was almost overpowering. The lights flickered before going off and the hallway was dark. “You got a flashlight?”
Click. No need for Diesel to give him a spoken answer when a clear stream of illumination appeared in front of them to guide their way. Jack glanced back and blinked at the oversize flashlight in Diesel’s hands. The thing could double as a battering ram.
They slowed down now, making their way carefully down the hall in case the building started to come down around them. So far everything seemed pretty good. “You see anyone?”
“Nah, boss.” Diesel took the right side of the corridor and Jack took the left, thumping on doors as they passed. “Maybe they all got out.”
“We would have seen someone.”
“Maybe they took one of the other stairs.”
“Maybe.” Jack moved a hand to his shoulder, activating his radio.
Fuzz. Crack. Fuzz. Crack. Reception wasn’t the greatest, but it never was in older buildings. “Anyone find our missing college students?” he asked.
No answer.
“Barnes,” he snapped. “Report!”
Nothing.
That wasn’t right. The tension in his body began to spread. He tapped the radio hard. Crack. Crack. Fuzz. And then nothing at all. Shit. “I think there’s something wrong with my radio.”
The equipment failure put his hair on end. He checked his radio at the beginning of every shift. It still wasn’t working. He was cut off, divided from the rest of his men.
If something happened to one of them, he wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t be able to help...
Hell, if something happened to him or Diesel...
He liked Diesel.
“Mine’s still working,” Diesel said.
“Good.” Jack swallowed away the sour taste of smoke and unease. “We don’t have time to switch out equipment. Tell Troy he’s got the comms.” He hated giving up control of his team, but he didn’t have a choice. “Ask if they’ve found any of the kids.”
All he could hear was Diesel’s breath, pulling air in and out. The other firefighter swallowed hard. The man was nervous. For a long moment it seemed like he wasn’t going to say anything, and then he started talking, firing off orders with a confident professionalism completely unlike anything Jack had heard come out of his mouth. Even when they’d been hanging out at Smoke & Bullets the previous week, arguing about whether Yogi Berra or Babe Ruth was the best ball player of all time, Diesel had never spoken at more than a throaty whisper. Now, his voice was machine-gun automatic as he filled Troy in on their situation and Jack’s orders. He listened to the response, and then—
“Some of them made it out through a stairwell on the east side. There are a bunch stuck in elevators two floors down. Troy and some of the others are getting them out. He said we should keep looking for stragglers. There’s a team right below us, but we’re the only ones who made it to this floor.”
It was a good plan, one Jack might have come up with himself if he’d had all the information. Apparently, his radio had been out for longer than he’d thought. Damn it. “You’ll tell me if anything changes?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Good.” He took another step forward.
The lecture halls were empty, thank God, but they finally found a pair of students in the warren of cubicles next to the main office. “There’s a fire.” Jack had to raise his voice to be heard over the blaring alarm. Neither of them turned to look at him. Either they were complete idiots or—he reached out and snagged a pair of noise-canceling headphones off the closest head.
A hard-faced blonde with a nose ring snapped her head around to glare at him. “What the hell, dude?”
“Fire, dude,” he responded. “Evacuate now.”
“Right.” She jerked her friend’s arm. A second pair of headphones hit the desk. How good were those things? They seriously blocked out a building fire alarm? Or, had they turned their music up that loud? The small redhead jolted to her feet. “Fire!”
At least this one wasn’t quite as dense.
“Fire! Oh, God.” Both girls started gathering up their things.
Unbelievable. Any minute now the fire could jump between floors, and they were worried about their laptops. “Leave your gear. Get out of here, now.”
“I can’t,” the blonde snarled as she shouldered her computer bag. “You know how long I’ve spent working on my thesis, I’m—”
“Now.” He pulled her into a standing position and thrust her back behind him.
The redhead was bent over, wriggling forward to grab for a bag that had slipped between two desks.
“No paper is worth your life—”
“I need it,” she argued as he grabbed her arm.
“No, you don’t.” He yanked her upright and started frog-marching the pair of them toward the hall. No one was dying today. Not for a laptop. Not for a purse. Not if he had anything to say about it.
“It’s my medication. My inhaler and my insulin.”
That actually sounded like it might be important. He opened his mouth to give an order, but Diesel was already one step ahead of him, anticipating his direction as he shoved the desk aside and bent to grab the bag in one easy move. He shoved the purse into the girl’s outstretched hand. “Let’s go.”
Out in the hallway the smoke was getting thicker. The fire might not have jumped all the way to the top floor, but it was getting closer. They needed to get out, fast. “Is there anyone else on the floor?” Jack asked quickly. It’d be easier if they knew how many people they were looking for.
“Econ 101—” the redhead started.
“The classrooms all got out. Anyone else who might be wearing headphones or might not respond to the alarm?”
“It’s early still,” the blonde finally said. “Most people don’t get in until after noon.” They’d almost made it to the stairwell. Another ten feet, maybe. The redhead was breathing heavier now. She reached into her bag and pulled out her inhaler. Her fingers clenched tight around white plastic as she held it to her face and took a loud puff.
They were at the stairs now. If they started down then there would be no turning back. It was the sort of judgment call that could haunt a man for years—go down with the girls to ensure their safety or keep looking for more people.
“We’re going down.” Jack took the lead. “I want everyone on their feet. Long, shallow breaths. If you start feeling light-headed then you let one of us know. If you need to stop then you let one of us know. Understand?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he took the first step, his muscles screaming under the weight of the equipment. All they needed to do was get to twenty-two and then they could hop one of the still-working elevators.
Now it wasn’t just smoke in the stairwell. It was red and orange flames licking at the walls. “Report in,” he told Diesel but, again, the other man was already speaking into his radio, letting Troy know what was going on.
Crack. The sound of the building shifting was something that would haunt his nightmares. Plaster and steel twisted somewhere up above, and debris rained down on them.
“Barnes, know a safe route?” Jack asked.
No response. Up above them the building was coming apart, and the farther down they went the hotter the flames got. In all likelihood, they were trapped. This wasn’t the time to get tongue-tied.
“Evers,” he barked. “Report.”
And then the steady rhythm of Diesel’s boots faltered. “My radio stopped working.”
Jack’s hands clenched tight into fists. No way. One busted radio was a horrible accident. Two was impossible. Especially when he’d checked his gear before leaving the firehouse. He’d watched Diesel check his equipment too. They’d both had working radios when the fire started and now—
They were going to die. Jack allowed himself a moment’s awful fatalism before shoving the thought back. He’d spent his entire life fighting fires in New York City. He wasn’t about to let one skyscraper get the best of him.
Even if they were alone.
Without backup.
Without the proper information.
With two civilians depending on them.
“We’re going straight down,” he said. “Fast as we can. All the way to the ground.”
“Not the twenty-second floor?” Diesel asked.
“There’s no guarantee the elevators will work a second time, and we can’t waste the energy.” They were going to need it. “You girls doing okay?”
The only answer was another puff from the inhaler, but that had to be good enough for now. They needed to move.
They picked up the pace now. Debris was still coming down from above, but as long as they hugged the exterior walls it couldn’t reach them. A few more floors and Jack was using his oxygen tank, taking two quick breaths at a time before passing it back to the girl directly behind him. Apparently, the emergency nature of their situation had finally caught up to them because he didn’t get any smart-ass comments or arguments, just two breaths and then the mask was passed back. They shared the oxygen all the way down to floor fourteen, where the air cleared up.
They’d made it below the fire now. They could breathe easier and move faster. The debris had even slowed down. They could run for the bottom. Jack charged forward, and behind him came a steady flip-flop slap and then a heavy stomp like a metronome.
Flap-slap.
Stomp.
Flap-slap.
Stomp.
Flap-slap.
Why was there only one slap? There’d been two earlier, he felt sure of it. An ugly slapping sound for each girl they’d pulled out of the study carrels.
His head twisted. The blonde with the nose ring and the bad attitude was right on his heels. Then two steps behind her Diesel Evers was standing tall with the second girl cradled in his arms, his oxygen mask affixed firmly to her face. She must have faltered on the stairs. Maybe her inhaler hadn’t been enough. It could have been a disaster, but Diesel had picked her up and kept moving.
Jack couldn’t help but smile. Tito’s friend might be nervous in social situations but he was a good firefighter. Solid. Dependable. The kind Jack might pray for more of every night if he was that way inclined.
They were going to be okay.
The rest of the trip down was enough to make his knees scream and his shoulders twitch, but when they finally reached fresh air, the rest of his engine company was waiting for him.
Yeah, that was the best feeling in the world.
Firefighters and paramedics came running from every direction to collect the girls. Around the edge of the crowd, uniformed policemen had formed a firm line to keep the crowd away. They weren’t the only boys in blue who’d shown up. Jack and Diesel stowed their equipment on the truck, breathing easier without the heavy weight of the oxygen tanks on their backs.
Jack’s hands stilled as he untangled his radio and dropped it on the ground. The plastic and metal clattered uselessly. Broken. He didn’t know whether to scream or stomp the machine under his heel until it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Instead, he bent down to pick up the discarded radio. The plastic was surprisingly cold against his fingers, or maybe that was just nerves. He picked it up and wrapped the ear piece around the heavy mechanism. “You got your radio?”
“Yeah, boss,” Diesel said.
Any minute now and they were going to call him over to the command center. Reese was a fan of debriefing captains in the field—he said it was the only way to know if they were telling the truth. If Jack hustled, he might be able to track down Troy before he was summoned, or he could roll the dice on his new friend. He’d already told Diesel about his suspicions. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I need you to take both radios and hide ’em,” he said. “Keep them safe until I ask for ’em. Think you can do that?”
Diesel cracked open his bottled water and drank down a large swallow. He put the bottle down. His lips pressed together in a thin line. His fingers twitched. He took off his radio. His head jerked back and forth, checking to make sure they were alone. Then he tucked the radio inside his jacket. “Yes, boss.”