Page 4 of Burn Protocol

“Yes, sir.”

“Helen said you usually spend a bit of time with the people you write about?”

Oh good, she at least saved me the trouble of having to explain why a single meeting would not be sufficient for my piece.

“Indeed, sir. It takes a while to really get to know a person, and the stories I write are in-depth. It requires me to… peel some layers before I can get to the core.”

He huffs a laugh, warm and friendly. When he speaks again, there is a playful tone to his voice.

“You’re a brave woman wanting to interview a firefighter then, Carter. Have you not heard about our reputation?”

“You mean the one where they say you guys like to build walls around yourselves thick enough to box yourselves in?”

“That’s the one. It’s true, and Elena is no exception.”

I clench my teeth and close my eyes for a brief moment. Well, fuck. I inhale sharply through my nose and then force a smile back on my lips before speaking, hoping it conveys some confidence I don’t actually have.

“Well, pardon the pun, Chief. But I have faced hotter fires.”

He laughs again at that, full and round.

“Why don’t you come over to the station tomorrow at nine, so that I can introduce you. You can make your appointments with Gonzales and we can get you set up for ride-alongs.”

“That sounds perfect, sir. I’ll be there, thank you.”

He chuckles again, mutters a goodbye, and ends the call.

When I put my phone down, I run my hands over my face. I have a day to prepare for meeting a woman I know nearly nothing about, practicing a profession I know even less about. Did Helen set me up to fail?

My boots hit the ground as I whip my head up, taking in the building. My gaze sweeps over it rapidly, with trained eyes. Light smoke comes out of the third-floor window, and there are flames on the left side. Probably one of those fires starting in a kitchen.

“Did everybody get out?” I ask one of the shaken residents.

She shakes her head. “The ladies from 302, they… they are old.”

I nod at her and look at the building again. The familiar jolt of adrenaline rushes through my body as I reach for my radio.

“Engine 2 on scene. Residential structure fire, with two possible occupants trapped on third floor. Smoke showing. Engine 2 initiating attack and rescue.”

The radio crackles with a confirmation from dispatch and an ETA for the other trucks. I listen with half an ear while I dash out the commands to my crew. They listen and respond the moment their task is clear, like a well-oiled machine. These are the people I trust with my life, and for good reason.

“Rodriques, on the attack. I want those flames hosed down as quickly as possible. Take Fernandes and Rivera.”

He nods and they dart off instantly.

“Díaz, with me.”

He is already following my lead toward the building. We check each other’s gear and oxygen tanks, before we push on.

I grab my radio one more time.

“Rescue entering building, two crew now inside.”

With a short nod toward Díaz, I push the door open, bracing for the roaring fire. The flames push out and then recoil again, like an ocean of heat. Their warmth curls around the door frame. When I step over the threshold, I feel the scorching heat smacking into me, like I am driving into a wall at full speed. I gasp, as I always do when entering, while the world around me narrows.

People often think that because of the fire it must be bright, but the truth is that it brings a whole different kind of darkness with it. The inferno blocks out everything from view while it curls around you, dark and twisted, as if you stepped through the gates of hell. You can’t see further ahead than a few steps, and that is what makes my job so incredibly dangerous.

I gaze up at the ceiling, the white and orange heat licking at it. We have to move. With the building plans etched in my brain, I move forward with certainty. Díaz and I only have about twenty minutes before our oxygen runs out. We have to push ourselves.