Chapter 3
Chapter Three
There was no room for distractions right now, no matter how cute Trixie was.
So, John made his way toward the stalled car a bit farther down the slope, having to move carefully as to not trip and roll right into the raging fire below like the boulder had moments earlier.
But damn. Even with the disaster unfolding right in front of him, he had to admit that Trixie was one cute Little.
He didn’t know anything about her. But there was just something that made it feel as if she’d fit right in with all the other Littles at Auntie Athena’s nursery over in West Hollywood.
John had been spending more time there as of late. He wasn’t a cop, but as a first responder, he was still able to get a security gig there on some of his nights off from the fire department. It wasn’t the extra cash that led him to the job. Auntie Athena knew it as well as he did.
It was the desire to find his sweet Little. A cutie to have, hold, and protect.
So far, she hadn’t appeared at the nursery. There were plenty of adorable ones, sure. But none felt like his Little. And that wasn’t something he would rush.
He’d know her when he met her.
And the woman he’d rescued gave off all those vibes. But obviously now was not the time…
He finally reached the car and held his breath as he looked for signs of movement.
Three of the four windows, plus the windshield, was cracked in a spider-web pattern, making it hard to see inside. He crouched down and put his face closer. It was difficult to see through the now-white, splintered glass, but he was able to make out that there was only one individual inside.
Good. A stroke of luck, finally.
That’s where the luck stopped, however.
The driver’s side door was locked.
Of course.
He could break the glass all the way. It was already barely hanging on. But then he ran the risk of harming the person who sat motionless behind the steering wheel.
Assuming they were still alive.
The thought they might not be nearly made John sick. He couldn’t focus on worst-case scenarios right now. He had to act as if there was still a chance.
Contemplating the glass issue, he turned it all over quickly in his mind.
Cuts from shattered glass sure beat burning to death in a raging wildfire.
And modern cars were designed with safety windows that splintered instead of shattering, hence the spiderweb pattern he now saw.
Breaking it was the best option. But he could do it on the passenger side to avoid any unintentional injuries for the occupant.
He carefully picked his way around. The fire was now at his back as he faced the car. Just being a few feet closer to it increased the heat he felt from the crackling flames.
The air looked wavy. Sparks flew about. Even through his SCBA—Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus—it was getting more and more difficult to find clean air. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for the stranded motorist, assuming they were still breathing.
They had to get the hell out of there now.
John tried the passenger door.
Locked. Of course.
He quickly reached into the heavy turnout coat he wore, found the small yet effective glass-breaking tool in an inside pocket, and went to work.
It didn’t take much force to bust through the already ruined window.
Reaching inside, he unlocked the entire car with the punch of one button and then hurried around to the driver’s door and opened it.
But another problem presented itself.
The car started sliding sideways, straight toward the fire.
Of course. Why not? The nature of the job. If things were easy, there wouldn’t be a need for John or the other firefighters.
Still, John cursed the stroke of bad luck as he quickly followed the descending car. Since the car was sliding down sideways—parallel to the wall of fire and its passenger side closest—he could reach out and take hold of the driver through the open door.
The plan didn’t work. He—an older man probably north of seventy—was strapped in tightly by the seatbelt.
John kept walking with the car, keeping pace with it as it continued to slide, and unclicked the seatbelt. He then had to wrangle it back and clear the guy’s shoulder from it.
The car picked up pace as the slope grew steeper. John was in danger of falling.
The rockface was sheer! Tumbling down would almost certainly mean death.
“It’s now or never, Johnny Boy,” he said as he reached in and yanked the guy free.
There wasn’t a second to spare. As soon as the man was cradled in his arms, the car hit an even faster slide that sent it into the flames moments later.
On movies, cars explode the moment fire reaches them. In real life, it didn’t work that way. It took a lot, but there was a lot with that raging fire, so…
John turned around and huffed it up the hill.
The grade was so steep that John’s boots struggled to find traction as he furiously pumped his legs.
“Come on, damn it! Come on!”
It didn’t help that he was carrying another human, the extra weight making an already difficult hike almost impossible.
Thankfully, the guy was light, his wiry, lean frame not weighing a ton.
But again… it was still an extra person.
Two other firefighters were making their way toward John now just as he was able to get his legs to finally carry him up the jagged slope.
Behind him, a deafening roar announced the fire had indeed reached the car’s gas tank.
A blast of heat assaulted him. He nearly dropped the man. But thankfully, his grip stayed true.
The explosion sent all the firefighters ducking. They were used to such things, though. Practiced in the art of pushing through fear and fighting instincts to save lives. Everyone recovered quickly and a few seconds later, John had transferred the man into another’s arms.
“You all right?” one of them yelled at John.
He nodded. “Let’s get him up to the ambulance and then get this thing put out before we have another disaster on our hands!” He jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating the orange wall of heat that was inching ever closer.
First, though, they needed to get back up to the road, get more gear, and ready the hoses. He knew some of the others were working on that now, but he wanted to help. Plus, he wanted to see to it personally that the older man he’d carried made it safely to the ambulance.
The guy was breathing, and John said a silent prayer of thanks at the sight of his chest rising and falling.
Once they had the man safely at the top, John peeled off his mask for just a moment, used his forearm to wipe his brow, and then chugged a cold bottle of water that had been handed to him.
He looked around. “Hey, did that girl get in one of the ambulances?”
Jason Seville, one of the engine drivers, shook his head. “No need. She wasn’t hurt. They looked her over and she left.”
John hoped he didn’t look too disappointed. Leaving was the safest thing she could do.
As long as she went away from the fire this time and not toward it.
With Trixie, he wasn’t so sure. Just in the brief few tense moments he’d spent with her, he’d gotten the impression she got into trouble quite a bit.
He just prayed it wasn’t any more trouble of the dangerous variety. But he couldn’t keep everyone safe. Hopefully, she made good decisions.
Sadly, he’d probably never see her again. Now wasn’t the time to worry about it, though. He had a job to do. Property—and most importantly, lives—depended on him.
So, John sprung into action and did what he did best.
He battled danger and protected the vulnerable.