Chapter 24
24
EMBER
I can see the fire even before we arrive. Black and red flames spew up into the sky, visible from miles around, like the very gates of Hell have opened up. The fire engine rolls toward the blaze at such speed. The sirens are blaring as we spin through the streets of Crystal River. And I, unbelievably, am in the emergency vehicle with the firefighters tasked with battling the flames.
I grip my seat hard and try not to throw up from the sharp turns and the nerves whirling inside my belly.
It’s crazy when you can actually see the danger you’re heading toward – when you can see the raging fire and know that the firefighters sitting in the truck around you will momentarily be stepping into that furnace without knowing if they’re going to be hurt or burned.
Or worse.
But the surrounding men look so damn professional . So damn serious. Their faces are ashen, but I can’t detect a single morsel of fear emanating in the fire engine, only a strong-willed resolve from these fighters - they’re doing their job, and they’re damn good at it.
These men I’ve gotten to know after the last few days of bribing with croissants and coffee seem like totally different characters as we race to the inferno. Despite their toughness and their muscular frames, I know they are funny and generously loving men in peacetime, but now in wartime they are the most stern and solemn I have ever seen them. There’s no more joking around here.
And Connor is the most extremely serious one of them all.
I turn to him. His eyes glimmer in the dimness of the truck.
“How are you feeling about this?” I ask him.
It seems like a lifetime ago when we were sitting in that office back at the station with him leaning forward, glaring deep into my eyes, with my phone recording our conversation.
This has certainly not turned out like a normal interview...
“We’re prepared,” he tells me flatly. “We’ll do the best we can to help.”
“Is this why you left the Penmaynes?” I ask. “To experience this?”
Connor stares at me.
“I never want to talk about why I walked away from my family,” he tells me with a deep, quiet voice. “And now is not the time for any more of your questions, Ember. Now is not the time for your journalism.”
He’s firm, not angry. He’s very assertive.
And even me, who loves a good interview in a stressful situation, gets the memo crystal clear.
Okay. No questions right now. Yep, not before these men literally walk into a fire. Got it.
The fire engine sharply pulls over and I look out of the window.
It’s a house on fire. That’s our destination - a normal suburban Crystal River house. It’s crumbling apart already as we rock up alongside it. You can’t even see inside because of the smoke and the vicious flames.
Holy crap, how do these guys do it...
But I don’t need to question for very long because the men in the fire engine immediately stream out once the vehicle stops. They get to work without a second’s hesitation – putting on heavy protective gear and helmets and pulling out hoses.
They’re going to fight this fire, and they don’t even need to say a word to each other.
They move as a team. So professional. So skilled.
And Connor is leading. He guides his team with a mere look or a simple nod and with no words, but his men seem to instantly understand what he’s asking of them. I get to see this Penmayne be a strong leader, and it’s mesmerizing to watch. He’s got a helmet on... a high visibility jacket flashing forward. Even though he looks armored, I feel like what he’s wearing isn’t enough for those roaring flames inside. I feel a pang of worry for him.
How can people run into danger like that?
It takes a certain kind of brave person, that’s for sure.
I ungracefully stumble out of the fire engine and stand at the side, observing the firefighters set up their positions around the house and the flames and trying my damnest not to get in the way of these trained heroes.
Behind us, ambulances arrive. Their sirens add to the cacophony of noise all around us. Uniformed medics jet out of the vehicles, ready for patients.
Suddenly, the front door bursts open, and a woman drenched in ash sprints out toward us. She’s coughing aggressively as she runs in a frenzied panic. Her eyes are wild. Her skin is lightly burned.
Connor leaps forward and takes her in his arms without a moment’s hesitation. He’s gesturing for a paramedic to bring over oxygen. His stony face displays no emotion. He’s reacting as a man who knows what he is doing.
I feel safe knowing he’s here. This woman has literally fallen into the best of hands.
“My babies!” The woman is crying hysterically. You can barely see her skin due to all the soot and ash that clouds her. Her hair has been tinged with flames. “My babies are still in there .”
She falls into a coughing fit and cries out again toward the burning house.
Oh, God...
Her children are in the house.
Her babies are in the fire.
My head swivels from the burning building to Connor, and then to the woman.
Connor hands her to the paramedic, who immediately gives her oxygen from a mask.
“Don’t worry,” one of the firefighters is saying to the inconsolable woman, gesturing at the man I’m supposed to be interviewing. “Our best men are on the job...”