Chapter 12
Vulcan
My grip tightens on the steering wheel, turning my knuckles white as I drive toward another fire.
The driver operator is out sick, leaving me to the task.
The radio crackles with updates, each transmission a lifeline to the chaos unfolding.
We swing around the corner, brakes screeching as we pull up at the scene.
It’s worse than the dispatcher described—a beast of a blaze, clawing at the skeleton of what was once a peaceful residence.
Flames gnaw at the structure, windows glowing like the eyes of some ravenous creature.
“Captain, look!” One of my guys points to the upper floor where the fire is greediest, licking at the sky.
“Got it,” I acknowledge.
“Hydrants spotted on the right. Let’s move!” I command, though it’s unnecessary. They’re already in motion, swift and sure. “Vent team, you’re up!” I yell, watching them gear up with axes and saws, ready to tear into the building.
“Search team, with me!”
As we assess the situation, my mind races. Where is the fire the hottest? What’s the structural integrity? Who’s still trapped inside?
“Cap, we gotta move fast,” one of my crew says, his voice strained under the urgency.
“Right with you,” I reply. We need to be in and out. “Let’s save some lives,” I declare, a rallying cry that sets us into action.
“Keep it tight. Watch each other’s backs.” We charge forward into the belly of the beast, ready to wrestle life from the jaws of destruction.
We sweep room after room, shouting for anyone still trapped inside.
Then I hear it. The faintest cry coming from upstairs.
It sounds like a child—fucking hell. My heart lurches as I race toward it, taking the steps two at a time.
The floor groans dangerously under my weight, but I don’t slow down; every second counts.
I find the boy cowering under a desk, tears streaking his soot-covered face.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” I say gently as I scoop him into my arms. His little body trembles against my chest.
Just as we turn to leave, a thunderous crack splits the air.
I look up to see the ceiling giving way right above us.
Without thinking, I twist my body around to shield the boy.
Searing pain explodes through my shoulder as debris rains down.
I stumble but stay on my feet, adrenaline flooding my system.
My shoulder screams in protest as I carry the child down the crumbling staircase, and I have to grit my teeth against the pain. All that matters is getting him to safety. Thick smoke billows around us as we make our escape. The boy clings to me, crying into my jacket.
“We’re almost there, buddy. Just hold on,” I tell him through labored breaths.
Suddenly, the front door appears through the haze. The cool afternoon air rushes in, and with my last ounce of strength, I lunge through it, collapsing onto the sidewalk. My crew surrounds me, helping the child from my arms.
“Captain! You all right?” Chen asks, grabbing hold of my good shoulder. I try to respond but only manage a pained grunt. The world spins as the adrenaline drains from my body. Chen’s voice sounds far away, drowned out by the ringing in my ears. I blink hard, struggling to stay conscious.
I feel my mask being lifted off my face. “Cap, eyes open. Stay with us now.” It’s Ramirez. Her face blurs in and out of focus. I want to reassure them that I’m all right, that this is just part of the job. But I can’t form the words, my tongue thick and clumsy in my mouth.
The paramedics are suddenly beside me, moving with quick efficiency as they assess my injuries.
I try to tell them I’m fine, but nothing comes out.
My vision blanks as they examine my shoulder and collarbone, and they move me to the back of the ambulance, where they start an IV line and monitor my vitals.
I blink up at the ceiling, the fluorescent lights searing into my vision.
This is not how I saw my day ending. I want to yell at them that this is just a scrape.
Nothing a hot bath and a glass of whiskey can’t fix.
But the words are stuck again, an unspoken protest swallowed by the sirens wailing above me.
I’m aware of every bump of the ambulance, every jolt sending massive amounts of pain through me.
As the ambulance speeds toward the hospital, I start to slip from consciousness.
I finally come to and catch glimpses of a few crew members running alongside the stretcher as they wheel me in.
Chen. Ramirez. Harry. I want to reassure them, but the more I try, the further away they seem.
Helpless, I feel myself start to slip away.
Their worried faces swim in and out of my vision.
Then, the world fades to black. I drift in a haze of pain and confusion.
“… minor burns on his left arm and possible fracture of the clavicle…”
I make out voices, but they’re faint.
“… smoke inhalation, but his O2 stats are holding steady…”
The words come and go, disjointed. Strangers’ faces peer down at me and bright lights stab into my eyes. I can’t respond. Can’t even flinch. I don’t know how long I’ve been out for.
“… he is going to need surgery. We need to move quickly.”
It’s as if I’m drowning in words, murky and slow.
I feel them cutting my clothes. Or trying to.
I’m still mostly in my turnout gear. You can’t cut through this.
The voices around me muffle, and I’m lost in a sea of darkness once more.
My mind retreats, desperately reaching for anything to hold on to.
And then I feel it. A cool hand brushing my forehead.
“You’re going to be okay, Vulcan. I’ve got you.”
The voice is a beautiful melody and all I can think about is Karina. We were supposed to have dinner in a few hours. I’m looking at three for three on bailing on her. I want to laugh, but I can feel myself drifting again before I can finish the thought.
When I come to, I’m in a hospital room. The antiseptic smell hits me first, then the soft beeping of machines. My throat feels like I’ve swallowed shards of glass and my shoulder throbs with each heartbeat. I blink, focusing my vision on the ceiling tiles.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.”
I turn my head slightly—mistake. Pain shoots through my neck and shoulder like a bolt of lightning, sharp enough to make me wince.
Karina’s sitting in a chair beside my bed. Her beautiful smile has been replaced with genuine concern, her eyes soft and searching as they lock onto mine.
“How long?” I rasp. Speaking sends another wave of pain through me, but the need to know outweighs the discomfort. How long have I been in this twilight zone? How long was I out? My thoughts race ahead, trying to piece together the lost time. The fire. The kid.
“About eighteen hours,” she replies, relief washing over her face as she stands.
Her touch is light as she adjusts the sheet that’s tangled around my arm.
“You had surgery on your shoulder,” she continues, and I don’t miss the catch in her voice.
She might be trying for a detached tone, but I can hear her concern.
I want to reach out, say something to ease her worries, but the pain and meds make my movements sluggish.
Before I can collect my scattered thoughts into words, a nurse strides into the room.
She and Karina speak about my vitals, and I find myself watching Karina’s face as she slips back into doctor mode.
Her brow furrows slightly as she listens to my stats, and I notice the dark circles under her eyes. Has she been here since I was admitted?
“Everything’s looking good, Mr. Montgomery,” the nurse says, adjusting the IV in my arm. “Dr. Reyes has been keeping a close eye on you.”
When the nurse leaves, Karina sits back down beside me. Her hand hovers over mine for a moment before she places it gently on the bed rail.
“The boy,” I manage to croak out. “Is he—”
“He’s fine,” she says, her eyes softening. “We treated him for smoke inhalation, but he was discharged this morning.”
“Good. That’s good.”
The room grows silent, and then Karina clears her throat. “You gave me quite the scare.”
I swallow hard, my throat burning. “Oh yeah?”
“Seeing my soon-to-be husband come into the hospital on a stretcher unconscious was not on my list of potential disasters.” Her lips twitch briefly before forming into a thin line.
“With my wife being a doctor, I know I’m in good hands,” I say, and Karina blushes, standing up slowly.
She touches my arm gently. “Your shoulder took quite the hit from that falling beam. You were lucky.” Her gaze turns serious. “I know you see it as your duty to put yourself in harm’s way, but…” She pauses. “I—your team can’t lose you.”
I reach for her hand, lacing our fingers together. Despite the pain, I give her one of my lopsided grins. “Hey, I’m too stubborn to go anywhere.”
Even now, in this bright white room, I feel that unspoken connection between us. My heart swells at the sight of her, so beautiful even after almost a day’s worth of stress. I want to tell her how much it means that she’s been here, but before I can, her hospital pager beeps.
“Get some rest,” she orders, a hint of playfulness lightening her tone. “You’re still doped up on codeine.”
She looks around quickly before leaning in, her lips brushing gently on my forehead. “I’ll come check on you later. Hopefully by then your voice will be better,” she says.
I watch her walk toward the door, each step graceful and confident. Her dark hair swings softly with her movements, and a pang of gratitude—and something I don’t have the clarity to dissect right now—hits me as she steps out into the hallway.
I let out a weary sigh and sink back into the stiff hospital pillows. Despite my bravado with her earlier, my body aches from the beating it took during the rescue. I adjust so my weight is mostly on my uninjured arm then close my eyes, letting the medicine do its work.
The soft click of the door stirs me out of sleep.
I watch through heavy lids as Karina slips back into the room.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I wanted to check in before my shift ends.
” She leans down to inspect the IV line.
I study her face, noticing that she isn’t wearing makeup, and on her nose she has tiny freckles that I’ve never noticed before.
They make her even more beautiful, if that’s possible.
“You must be exhausted,” I say.
She smiles wearily. “I am, but I needed to see you first.”
I return her smile. “I’m all right, just a little smoke inhalation.”
She nods, checking the monitor by my bed.
I can tell she’s in full doctor mode, assessing my condition.
“Right, you forgot I’ve been here since they brought you in.
You’ve had surgery to repair a scapula fracture, and you’ve narrowly avoided thermal injury.
So, yeah. Don’t even try with the ‘just a little smoke inhalation.’” Her gentle fingers brush my hair back from my forehead, lingering a moment longer than necessary.
“I’m about to marry a real-life Avenger. ” She playfully rolls her eyes.
I chuckle, ignoring the ache in my chest that has nothing to do with the fire. “I’m always ready to play the hero.”
“Well, this hero needs to take better care of himself.” Karina’s voice is stern once more. “I don’t want to see you in here again anytime soon.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“It’s my personal opinion as well. My check won’t clear if you’re dead,” she says with a wink. “Kidding… maybe, but I care about you, Vulcan. More than I probably should, with how little we know each other.” She bites down on her lip.
I reach for her hand, threading our fingers together. “Karina, I—”
A knock at the door interrupts the moment, and she snatches her hand back. Harry pokes his head in, eyes narrowing. “Sorry to… interrupt. But the guys are getting antsy out here. They want to make sure you’re still in one piece.”
I clear my throat in a bid to regain my composure. “Give me a minute.”
Harry nods, shooting Karina a wink before ducking back out.
“They’ve been setting up camp in shifts. Causing quite the commotion with the nurses.” She shakes her head, a rueful smile on her face. “I should get going. I have to be back here early in the morning. Promise me you’ll take it easy.”
“Cross my heart,” I vow, giving her a mock salute.
Karina leans in, brushing a feather-light kiss against my forehead again. “I’ll hold you to that.”
I watch as she slips out of the room and sigh. It’s going to take months to recover fully, months of dealing with the pain and the frustration of not being able to work at full capacity.
But knowing she’ll be here, helping me heal—helping us both figure this out—makes it all bearable.