Page 11 of Melting for the Firefighter

The engine turns onto Main Street.

Flames lick through the front windows of Grandma’s Garden.

My heart stops.

The flower shop has always looked like something from another world. Green awning. Painted pots. Buckets spilling color onto the sidewalk.

Now black smoke boils above the roof.

Zain’s voice cuts through the radio. He came in behind us in the command vehicle and is taking control of the scene.

“Renner and Crush, rear entry. Primary search. Cora’s last location was the bedroom. Second team on exposure. Move.”

Jordan and I hit the ground running.

The rear door is trapped in its warped frame. A fallen section of wooden trellis and a metal trash bin block it from the outside.

Jordan heaves both aside while I check the frame.

The door gives under my shoulder.

Heat rolls out.

We go in low.

My mask seals around my face. Air hisses. The world narrows to heat, smoke, and the beam of my light.

“Fire department!” Jordan shouts.

“Cora!”

No answer.

I saw enough of the apartment when I carried in the ice to know the basic layout. Kitchen to the right. Living room ahead. Bedroom at the end.

The connecting door to the shop has failed. Fire crawls across the wall and ceiling.

“Bedroom!” I call.

Jordan opens the line behind me.

Water hits flame with a violent hiss.

I find the bed, the shattered window, and the shelf across the floor.

Then I see her hand.

Bare fingers against blackened wood.

They move.

Barely.

Something inside me tears open.

I reach her. The shelf lies across her hip, pinning her nightgown to the floor. A scorched book lies beside her.

I get both hands beneath the frame and lift.