Page 21 of Love Again

The heat was incredible, creating its own micro windstorm. Ax in one hand, respirator on, I side-stepped falling debris. Then I saw him. On the kitchen floor lay the little boy. I grabbed him, carried him like a baby, and ran from the house.

At the ambulance, the EMTs took over immediately and wanted to check me out, but I shrugged them off. The rescue was off-radio. The chief wouldn’t be happy.

A wall inside collapsed in one horrendous crash. A firefighter staggered out, whipped off his helmet, and said a woman was still in there. A firefighter.

The house was a firebomb.

Devon was the only female in the five teams on site.

I was possessed. Max tried to hold me back, but I fought, broke his grip, and ran right at the fire. The front door was in flames, so I broke through the living room window. Another wall came down. There was no one. Another wall started to break, and I sidestepped to get on the other side, back through the kitchen. Something smacked my helmet, hard. It was like a punch down on the top of my head. Stars appeared, but I kept going.

Through the smoke, I saw her scrambling off the staircase as the ceiling started to cave. She couldn’t hear me shout, the fire was too loud, so I grabbed her and threw her out of the way toward the sliding glass doors at the rear of the house. The ceiling failed and crashed in a fiery crescendo of timbers, sparks, and smoldering sheetrock.

Devon wrestled with her respirator—she was clearly out of air and disoriented. We needed to escape. Leaning on each other, we moved as quickly as we could through the roar of the fire, the smoke and flames shooting around us in all directions. Gripping her tightly, I focused on that panel of glass. I hurled a chair at it, it shattered, and a fresh wave of oxygen swept in, the fire gobbling it, doubling instantly. We ran.

I halfway dragged her to a medic station and pulled her helmet off and then mine. My helmet was cracked, and blood poured down the side of my face. We turned and watched the flames engulf the house. She had gone in looking for me because she didn’t know I’d make it out with the boy. I had gone in looking for her.

Max went in looking for both of us.

He never made it out.

The last thing he told the chief when he defied orders and went inside the residence was that he wasn’t going to lose us too.

We cost Max his life. We forgot the first rule of firefighting: fight fire but secure your own safety first. We failed to initiate action based on expected fire behavior. We didn’t remain in communication with crew members or the chief, and we didn’t keep calm, think clearly, or act decisively.

When Devon left me, her face was tearstained, though I never heard her crying. “We killed him,” she said. “We never thought about ourselves or the others. I went in for you—you went in for me. We never should have put him in that position. This is on us.”

In the space of a week, I’d lost my oldest friend and Devon. To know that both were my fault was too much.

That’s when I threw myself into my work.

And that’s how I nearly died.

΅

This week, I grow a little stronger, I work out longer, and by Friday, I’m up to a fast three-mile run in twenty-two minutes with little pain. Keller keeps an eye on me, and I resolve to stay away from Devon.

I made my feelings clear. What happens now is up to her. It’s been two days and I haven’t heard from her at all. I’m on desk duty at the station when Devon pokes her head in.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here. Where’s Keller?”

“With Detective Carlson.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “About the fire last Tuesday?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing?”

“I have a practical I have to go to next Wednesday in Portland.”

“Certification?”

I nod. “For fire investigator.”

Her hand stays on the doorknob. “So that’s your next thing?”

“Yeah,” I say slowly.