Liam
I’m not in my police car. There are no blue and white lights flashing, but I drive like there is, earning me beeps and curses and shaking fists from windows.
I don’t care, though. Freddie’s on speaker, and he’s panting.
He keeps trying to say something to me, but he trails off after the first syllable.
There’s no strength left in him to complete a word, but it’s the tone of his aborted attempts, the dejected way they come out like he’s given up that fills me with fear.
“Keep breathing, Freddie.”
I see the smoke now in the distance. It flashes with the emergency vehicles on scene.
Blue, white, blue, white. There’s a police car, and hopefully an ambulance too.
The traffic slows as we reach a junction, and even though the light is green, the car at the front of the queue doesn’t pull off.
I slam my fist on my horn, and when his response is too slow, I mount the curb to go around the jam.
No doubt I’ll get in trouble for it later, but right now, I couldn’t care less.
There’s no ambulance, but there is a police car parked behind the fire engine. The officer begins waving me away with a scowl, but I lean forward and the white strobe from his car hits my face. His lips pop open, then he’s waving me towards him.
I throw open my door, and the officer catches it with a surprised grunt. “Woah, Liam, what are you doing here?”
It’s an irrelevant question I don’t waste time on. “Tell me the situation.”
He rushes alongside me, but I come to an abrupt halt beside the fire engine.
Four fire fighters, one certainly my brother, are positioning a ladder.
A fucking ladder. It’s thirteen meters long, the longest that’s kept on a standard fire engine, but it’s not the best piece of equipment for the job.
They thought they were dealing with a no-occupancy fire, and although I’m certain a request would’ve been made for a truck with an aerial ladder platform, there’s no time.
“There’s a casualty on the second floor. Ambulance is on the way, and Stafford Fire Department have despatched a unit to assist, but they’re going to be another ten minutes. The casualty was responding to calls of his name by moving his fingers, but he’s since let go of the window frame.”
I bow over slightly, and the officer, Grant, grabs my elbow. “You okay?”
The four firefighters are all kitted out in their breathing apparatus.
It takes four of them to use the ladder, one up it while three hold it secure, which means no one is dousing the flames.
They’re prioritising saving a life over controlling the fire, but there’ll come a point where they’ll all be in danger if they can’t get Freddie out fast enough, and the chief will value the lives of his crew over the person trapped inside.
There’s always a ticking clock.
“Come on,” I say, running to the ladder.
I know it’s Ryker who’s harnessed in and halfway up. He doesn’t notice my arrival, but his crew do.
“You can’t be here!”
It’s the one in the white helmet who speaks, the chief officer, the one running the show. The one who’ll decide when to give up on this rescue. I know Ryker won’t give up on Freddie. He’ll refuse to come down without him or climb inside to perish with him.
“Look at me,” I tell him, pointing at my face. “That’s my brother up there. It’s ten minutes until your backup arrives. Let me help.”
He stares at me for a long few seconds, then turns to the man beside him. “Martin, hose, left window.”
Martin abandons his position to me, and sprints back to the fire engine.
Grant’s a few metres away, speaking into his radio.
I look up at Ryker. His boots clank on each rung of the ladder, and his harness clicks as it knocks against the metal.
We hold the ladder still, but it bounces in our grip.
I cough into my shoulder, I’m not wearing breathing apparatus after all, and the chief’s gaze finds me.
He curses, but his scrunched expression relaxes, and he stares off to one side like he’s listening, then he looks up at my brother.
He’s reached the window, but it won’t open.
Ryker drops down a step, wraps his leg around the rung of the ladder, then grabs the bottom of the window with both hands.
It doesn’t open. He yanks. There’s a ping then a crunch, and we flinch as something hits the ground.
I look up as Ryker looks down. His face is covered by his mask, but I know he sees me.
He’s either going to save Freddie or die trying, and me . . . I have to watch.
I might watch them die.
Ryker opens the window, but the hinge is at the top.
It doesn’t make it easy on him, but he’s bracing one hand on the frame while opening it up with the other.
I hate how far he has to lean back. He looks inside, but the window slips from his gloved hand and swings down.
It rams the oxygen tank into his back, and even though I’m not connected by a headset, I hear his grunt of pain.
The ladder jerks with the impact.
“Ryker!”
I can’t help myself, it comes out.
Ryker lifts the window again, but this time he uses his back to keep it open.
It’s less room to work with, but it means he’s got both hands free.
He reaches inside, leaning right over to grab Freddie.
Ryker pulls him up by his armpits. I can’t see Freddie’s face, but the way his arms flop rolls my stomach.
I told him to open the window, but what if that had been the wrong thing to do? I could’ve hung up, called Ryker, and told him the situation, but Ryker might not have answered, and if I couldn’t get Freddie on the phone again, I would’ve lost it completely.
The ambulance screeches onto the scene, adding more blue lights.
They’re all flashing out of time, catching the smoke.
It’s a blue cloud not a black one. Ryker manages to haul Freddie out and get his body over his shoulder.
There are no ropes on Freddie, it’s all on Ryker to keep him safe and walk him down.
Freddie’s head lolls at Ryker’s lower back, and his arms hang limp, fingers loose.
He’s unconscious, I know he is, but I watch his fingers for a twitch.
I watch for a sign of life.
There’s nothing.
“Easy,” I hear the chief say. “Nice and slow, Ryker.”
Ryker brings him down, and each carefully placed step swings Freddie’s head like a ragdoll.
His eyes are closed. His lips are open slightly, and still, his fingers don’t twitch.
Ryker’s boots thud firmly back to earth.
He takes Freddie away, and I want to go with him, but the chief tells me no.
I can’t abandon my post. The ladder is a huge piece of equipment and needs to be taken down with care.
I nod and resist the urge to glance Freddie and Ryker’s way.
Ryker’s taken him to the ambulance, but somehow, they feel further away from me than when they were up the ladder. I do as I’m told, something I’m not used to, until we’ve got the ladder down and it lies on the ground, then I cross the car park on weak legs.
I’d wanted to go to them, but now . . . now I’m able to, I feel unwelcome, like I’ve failed them somehow, like I’m unworthy to approach. Ryker proved his worth, he literally pulled Freddie from a burning building, but what did I do?
I stood and watched.
Ryker’s dropped his oxygen tank and removed his mask and helmet.
His eyebrows quiver as he looks down at Freddie on the stretcher.
There’s an oxygen mask over Freddie’s mouth, and from the blur of condensation, I know he’s breathing, but they’re short, shallow breaths.
His hair is drenched through with sweat, and his cheeks are red, but the rest of his visible skin is deathly pale.
The paramedics fuss over him, and Ryker takes hold of his hand.
I come up behind Ryker and do what I do best, what I’ve done since I got here.
I watch.
And I feel fucking helpless.
I feel useless.
Ryker’s speaking to Freddie, reassuring him, but I press my lips together.
I’m rigid behind my brother.
“There wasn’t supposed to be anyone inside,” I hear someone say, and I don’t recognise his voice, but the police officer in me takes note of the man’s disbelief. “I . . . I thought it was empty.”
I drag my gaze from Freddie and turn it to the stranger beside me. Not quite a stranger, I’ve seen him before. He’s Freddie’s boss, and he’s shaking his head, mouth agog, not looking at the building but at Freddie by our feet.
Freddie’s the priority here, and I should be glad this guy sees it, but there’s something off about him. There’s some instinct that’s stirring inside me.
The man walks away from us, keeps going until he’s at the edge of the car park, then sits on the curb with his head in his hands.
“Liam,” Ryker says, and he reaches out to grip my ankle, but I take a step back. My brother’s eyes widen. “He needs you too.”
“You’ve got it covered.” I turn from him, from them.
“Hey, wait!” Ryker tries to get to his feet, but groans, and curls over while reaching for his back.
“Get yourself checked out.”
“But—”
“No buts,” I say and I walk away.
Ryker’s the hero, a wounded one at that, and whatever happened here put him and Freddie in danger.
I’m going to find out how this fire started and who is responsible.
I glance at Freddie’s boss, rocking as he sits in what looks like an attempt at self-soothing.
It’s a gut feeling that this situation is to do with him, the boss, the owner of the building currently on fire.
The other fire department arrives on scene, and the chiefs converse and point at the building. I wait until they finish before strolling over and announcing myself to Ryker’s chief with an outstretched hand.
“I’m police sergeant Liam Bridges; I need to ask you a few questions . . .”