Through The Fire. Sharon Mignerey

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СКАЧАТЬ Vance arrived at the hospital with her fellow firefighters a scant six minutes later. Since their station was the closest, they arrived before the four other engines that had also been called out, just as they had when they had responded to a false alarm an hour earlier. During her last shift, they had answered four false alarms here, and this was the second call today. Just as she had the previous times they had responded, she carried a roll of hose over one shoulder and an ax in her hand. She and the other four firefighters followed the incident commander, Neil O’Brien, into the building. Each time they had responded to a call, the alarm had come from somewhere in the remodeled section of the hospital. This time, the emergency panel indicated the fire was on the second floor of the brand-new pediatric wing. Each time, the panel had showed a suspected fire in different areas—no two calls had been the same.

      “It’s gotta be another false alarm,” said Lucia’s partner, Luke Donovan. “No way would there be a fire there. Not with all the sprinklers and sensors.”

      “You’re probably right,” O’Brien said, leading the way. “Meyers and Jackson, secure the elevators. The rest of you come with me.”

      They entered the stairwell and made their way to the second floor. As soon as they came through the door, Lucia smelled smoke.

      This was no false alarm.

      The floor was bustling with activity, and a nurse rushed toward them, pointing toward one of the adjoining hallways. “Down there.”

      “Vance and Donovan, make an assessment and report back,” O’Brien ordered.

      Lucia followed her partner down the hall, the smell of smoke stronger with each step they took. They turned a corner, and the smoke hung from the ceiling like an ugly black blanket billowing in a breeze.

      The silhouette of a man kneeling on one knee suddenly became visible. He was clearly a civilian since he wasn’t in turnout gear, but he expertly wielded the extinguisher.

      He violently started when Lucia touched his back. “We’ve got it, sir,” she said through her mask. He looked up, his face streaked with smoke, his eyes the most vivid green she ever remembered seeing.

      “The stairwell is that way,” she said when he stared blankly at her. “You can go.”

      He nodded, his eyes somehow boring right through her, then handed her the canister, the athletic grace of his stride catching her attention while she and Luke briefly assessed the fire. All around them, hospital personnel were busy evacuating patients, but despite the fire, everything seemed calm. Eerily so, Lucia thought as the assistant fire chief joined them.

      “At least it’s confined,” O’Brien said. “Donovan, they need extra help with a couple of critical patients that they have to get away from this smoke right now. Since you’ve got the back for the job, you’re the man.”

      Luke shook his head. “Can’t leave my partner—”

      “This isn’t a discussion. Get going. I’ll stay here with Vance.”

      Lucia looked over her shoulder at O’Brien, who stood there with his radio to his mouth as he talked to one of the lieutenants on an engine that had just arrived. Since he had been gunning for her for months, she thought it odd that he had dismissed her partner. It would have made more sense if he’d had three other people around to do the job of putting out this confined fire.

      “Be safe,” Donovan said as he headed back in the direction they had come.

      “Get going, Vance,” O’Brien ordered.

      Refocusing her thoughts on the task at hand, she found the valve halfway toward the end of the hall. She hooked up the hose and switched on the valve. As she aimed the nozzle toward the open door, she thought she smelled the distinct aroma of lacquer vapors. One more odd thing, almost as odd as O’Brien sending her partner away.

      In the next instant, an explosion knocked her off her feet, the force of the blast throwing her against the opposite wall.

      A monstrous blossom of fire unfurled through the space where the closet door had been, pinning her in place and reaching for her.

      TWO

      Giving the firefighters a backward glance, Rafe headed for the stairwell. All around him, there was a buzz of controlled activity, the kind that came when a crew had trained for this kind of disaster and knew exactly what to do. It was clear that an evacuation was being prepared for.

      He looked back at the firefighters one last time, wondering if there was something more to the fire that he hadn’t noticed. Figuring he was an extra set of hands for whatever might be needed, he headed toward the nurse’s station.

      Within a few steps, his heart lurched when he remembered the kids in the chapel. Surely they were gone already. But what if they were still there? Since they weren’t patients, they might have been overlooked. He reversed his direction and headed for the chapel across the hall from the janitor’s closet. How could he have forgotten about them while he was searching for the extinguisher? Rescue was always the first order of the day with fire—a fact as basic as breathing.

      “Get out of here,” one of the firefighters said, a stocky man, the insignia on his helmet identifying him as a battalion chief.

      The man rushed past him, speaking into his radio before Rafe could answer.

      Relieved to see another firefighter hooking a hose up to the valve, Rafe opened the chapel door.

      He stepped inside, the door automatically closing behind him. The two kids were nowhere to be seen, the beanbag where they had been sitting empty. Since kids often hid from fire, he couldn’t assume they were gone simply because he didn’t see them.

      “Anyone here?” he called. Through the big window, Pikes Peak was beautifully framed, just as advertised in the news article that had made him look for the chapel in the first place. Snow gleamed on the mountain, pristine and surreal compared to the smoke-filled hallway. Whispering a quick prayer for the safety of everyone around him, Rafe looked around for the kids once more.

      Just then an explosion in the hallway rattled the windows, the concussion of it dropping Rafe to his knees. A brilliant flash of orange flared through the hallway window.

      Behind him, a child cried out.

      He whirled around and found the two children huddled behind the heavy drape that framed the window. Relieved they were safe, at least for the moment, he went to the door to check on what had happened.

      “It’ll be okay,” he said reassuringly to the kids as he peered through the window. The smoke was thicker, obscuring the view of anything in the hallway, then shifting and revealing a reflective stripe on a bundle on the floor next to the door. Not a bundle. A person. The firefighter he had last seen hooking up the hose to the valve.

      Without a second thought, Rafe knelt, flung open the door, grabbed on to the coat and pulled. The firefighter moaned.

      “I’ve got you.” Through the smoke, Rafe could see the closet was fully engulfed, and, oddly, there was a wall of flames between them and their route to safety. There shouldn’t be that much fire. Once again he wondered why the sprinklers weren’t coming on.

      The instant he had the two of them back inside the chapel, he closed the СКАЧАТЬ