Chapter 18
JJ
Smoke is pouring from the second-floor windows when we pull up, the orange burn of the fire lighting the sky. Neighbors crowd the street in awe and horror, standing together in small groups.
“My son is still in there!” She’s hysterical, as she should be. This fire is bad.
I don’t hesitate.
“Marco, you’re with me. Denver, grab irons and the TIC,” I order, pulling my mask down and snapping it tight. “Engine’s got fire attack. We’re primary search, second floor.”
The front door is forced open by Leo, just as we reach it. Heat rolls out, thick and aggressive.
“High heat, low visibility,” Denver says behind me.
“Stay right wall.”
We move low and fast. The stairs are halfway down the hall, already charring at the edges.
“He was in his bedroom!” the woman screams from outside. I can hardly hear her over the house burning. “He was taking a nap!”
I don’t answer her. I can’t. But I do listen and rush up the stairs. Each one groans under my weight. The smoke makes it impossible to see a damn thing. I flip on the thermal imaging camera and scan.
“Left side’s lit up,” Denver says.
“Engine’s hitting it,” I respond. “Keep moving.”
We sweep the first bedroom. Clear.
Second room—the door is shut.
I feel it with the back of my glove.
Hot.
“Ready?” I ask.
Marco nods, so we force it open.
The room is thick with smoke and dark. I drop low and sweep with my arm, moving inward. The TIC picks up a small heat signature on the far side.
“Got something,” I say.
I move fast, pushing debris aside. My hand hits something soft and warm.
“Got someone!” I bark.
He’s maybe six. Curled up on the floor in the corner near the closet.
I scoop him up, tucking him against my chest and shielding his face with my coat. He’s limp—too much for my liking, but we need to get out of here before I can do anything about that.
“Stairs!” I shout.
The hallway flashes brighter, the fire licking across the ceiling.
“Go, go, go!” Marco yells.
We move fast but controlled, back down the stairs and out the front door and into cold air. I drop to my knees as EMS rushes forward.
“Second floor, rear bedroom,” I say, already standing again. “Search not complete.”
The kid coughs just once. But it’s enough.
I don’t wait to see more. I turn and head back inside to keep looking. And it’s a good thing I do, because I save their dog, and sometimes, that’s the extra win I need.
Twenty minutes later, the fire’s out. Searches are clear. There are no other victims. No deaths. It was bad, but with a positive outcome.
I’m leaning against the squad truck, helmet off, sweat cooling too fast on my skin.
The kid is in the ambulance. Alive.
His mother sobs against a paramedic, blaming herself for not getting to him before leaving the house. That’s what they do—it’s what they all do. Guilt will eat at her for months, maybe years, but I can’t be their therapist too.
Denver bumps my shoulder. “Nice grab, LT.”
I nod once.
My hands are still shaking. Not from fear, but from what could’ve happened. I’m too used to these things ending badly, that it’s hard to accept the good sometimes.
There’s a bark, and I catch the dog pawing at the mother. She cries harder but leans down to pick up the tiny furball that looks like he may have been white once upon a time. She hugs him to her chest and moves to the back of the ambulance to be near her son.
We load up and head back to the firehouse.
The adrenaline drains on the ride, leaving behind that hollow space in my chest, even though everything went right today.
There are still so many bad things. That mother’s guilt.
The fact everything they owned is now gone.
I can’t fix everything, even though I sure wish I could.
I’d trade a lot of things to have the ability to snap my fingers and make everything right for people who deserve it.
Back in the locker room, I sit on the bench and stare at my phone.
Franklin’s contact is pulled up. I just need to talk to someone, to share the good that happened today. I save people all the time, but it’s hitting me harder right now and I don’t know why.
I close out of the contact and pull up a text, sending just one.
Me:
Pulled a kid out of a fire today. He’s alive.
The reply comes fast, and though I’m not surprised, I am grateful.
Miles:
Oh my God. Are you okay?
I swallow.
No one ever asks that. I mean, sure, the guys check in, but it’s out of habit.
Of course they’d care if I wasn’t okay, but the question is just a reaction at this point.
We do scary, dangerous shit. We ask each other if we’re okay all the time, but we always expect a “yes” in response.
Sometimes they don’t even wait for the response.
Me:
Yeah.
Miles:
I’m glad he had you in there to save him. I bet he’ll remember you for the rest of his life. I know I would.
That one lands somewhere deep. I close my eyes, ducking my head. The urge to share anything with Franklin is quickly going away. Yet, his words still linger over me. Mostly the bad ones, because what good has he ever said to me?
He’s showing up here soon, and what then?
It’s what I wanted for so long, but not like this.
I can’t remember the last time he came to see me in Chicago, and now it’s to babysit me because he thinks I’m going off the deep end?
How ridiculous is that? Yet a small part of me can’t help but be relieved over him coming to the house.
Maybe it’ll finally be the time he decides to stay.
Me:
Thank you for that.
Miles:
It’s just the truth. What you do sticks with people forever, JJ.
Me:
Never really thought about it like that before.
I catch the time on my phone. It’s almost 11:30 at night.
Me:
You should get to bed.
Miles:
I am in bed.
Me:
Did your nephew have fun today? I’m sorry we had to leave in a rush.
Miles:
Don’t apologize for doing your job. He understands.
Can I ask you something though?
Me:
Of course.
There’s a long pause before he texts again, but I don’t pull my gaze from the phone while I wait. I should get to bed myself. Who knows if the alarms will be going off all night? They’ve already gone off multiple times today—lots of back to backs.
Miles:
Were you serious about going to the strip club with me?
I huff a laugh.
Me:
As long as it wouldn’t be weird for you.
Miles:
Why would it be weird?
Me:
I have no idea. Just wanted to put it out there.
Miles:
Well, I don’t think it’s weird. My friends did text me though, and I brought up wanting to go by again.
They invited me tomorrow, since they’re both working.
I didn’t say you’d go with me, but if you do, I’ll have them add both our names on the list.
Me:
A list? Fancy.
Miles:
Just makes it easier to get in.
Me:
Tomorrow sounds great. But you will have to help me find something to wear.
Miles:
Sounds like fun…
Me:
It could be.
Go to bed. Good night.
Miles:
:) Night
I turn off the screen on my phone and go into the bunk room to get some sleep—hopefully.