Chapter 2
Flash pushed farther into the radiant heat, spraying water on orange bursts of flames along one wall.
Twisted ductwork hung from the ceiling like broken ribs, bumping into her helmet in the thick smoke.
Waylon was tight to her side, muscling the hose, with Woods and Flores a few yards behind.
A metallic tap cut through the noise on the left. She shut off the nozzle.
“Fire department, call out!” Flash shouted. The tapping quickened. “Over there.” She pointed.
A door rattled, blocked by debris sagging from the broken ceiling and cluttering the floor. Waylon raked wreckage aside with his Halligan while Flash used hers to clear pipes and wires dangling overhead.
Four fingers poked through the crack. “Help!”
“Stand back,” Flash ordered. “We’ll get you out.”
Without a word, Flores wedged in his pry bar and pushed. The door scraped the floor, and a woman, holding a cloth over her face, rushed out and into Woods’ arms.
“Get her out,” Flash said. “Then follow the hose line back.”
He nodded. “Ma’am, this way.”
They wouldn’t have visibility until they reached the exit, but Woods could follow the hose. The core of the fire growled somewhere deeper inside ahead of them. Flash pushed toward the heat. “Watch and listen,” she instructed. “More could be trapped back here.”
A heavy blast of heat pushed back with each step. Sweat ran down Flash’s neck beneath the turnout coat. Alarms wailed as her helmet light cast reddish-black smoke in a glow like grains of sand suspended in oil.
Feeling a sudden scalding wave on her left, Flash tested the doorknob. Even through her protective gloves, it burned her hand. She waved Waylon back. “Let’s cool it down.”
“We’ve got victims,” Jackson reported into her radio ear.
“Backside venting in progress,” said another voice.
“Get a team on that!”
“It’s spreading.”
“I don’t like it.”
Everyone seemed to be talking at once. Flash opened her stream on the hot door, and steam erupted. Flames licked down the wall through the shattered ceiling like a lizard’s tongue darting for a fly. She popped her hose up, attacking them, water against fire, in a battle of wills.
A second stream blasted the wall. Woods was back, and he and Flores were in action with her.
“I’ll try it now,” Waylon said, slowly releasing the hose so it didn’t whip out of Flash’s hands.
He reached for the handle. Turned it. The charred, half-melted door fell off its hinges when he pushed.
Flores and Woods were there, dousing the interior, steam erupting where the water hit.
But the fire, unwilling to relinquish its claim, roared back and struck out.
If not for his protective gear, Waylon would have been burned.
Flash kept her stream on the wall and ceiling that separated the office from the wide hallway while her teammates took it head-on.
In minutes, the fire retreated down the corridor ahead of them—straight toward the chemical tanks.
Adrenaline pulsed through her body as Flash stepped into the demolished office space.
She sensed this was where the fire started.
A closer inspection was needed. It was just a feeling, but Flash trusted hers.
Among the ashes, puddles, charred furniture, and twisted metal, Flash spotted a body on the floor.
“Hang on,” she called, and rushed forward.
Probably dead. Burned, but not consumed.
A man, she thought. Big feet. This one wasn’t a rescue, but a recovery.
Still, she didn’t have time to make sure. What if he were alive, even barely?
Flash faced a command decision: send a member of her team back with the body or mark it, leave it until the fire was out.
Common sense and protocol pointed to the latter.
But something tugged at her gut. Pausing for an instant, she flipped him over.
His face was red and charred, eyes closed, unresponsive. Still.
She called into her radio, “Male victim, severe burns, unresponsive. I’m sending Woods to bring him out. Have a stretcher ready.”
“Copy,” O’Riley responded amid the chatter.
Woods hoisted the victim over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
“Same deal,” Flash said, catching his gaze through their masks. “Follow the hose and hurry back.”
“Sure thing, Lieutenant.”
“Waylon, you can handle that hose on your own,” she said upon exiting the office. “I’ll grab on with Flores.”
He nodded. She could imagine his satisfied smirk behind the mask.
An odd sense of not-rightness gnawed at Flash as they pushed ahead. The corridor glowed like the inside of a furnace, waves of smoke and heat swirling around them. Every few seconds, a metallic pop echoed somewhere ahead. The building answered with a groan. It sounded wrong.
She opened the valve on her hose, and Waylon followed her lead as they rounded a corner.
Sure enough, a barrage of flames met them.
They seemed exceedingly angry, whipping and spitting, as they swallowed the ceiling.
Through their dancing forms, Flash could see a vast space ahead filled with enormous steel drums. Though the fire hadn’t reached the barrels yet, heat shimmered above the concrete floor.
Escaping steam hissed ahead, maybe from a relief valve.
Paint on the nearest barrels had begun to blister. We’re running out of time.
“There!” she pointed.
Waylon’s eyes widened. He aimed his stream at the root of the inferno.
Flash called into her radio, “I see some metal tanks in a big room with a high roof and concrete floor. The fire’s between us and it, maybe twenty yards shy of the drums. We’re working it. Where’s the other crew?”
“One is on their way.” This time, it was Velasquez who answered. “Eighteen has a crew checking out the roof. They’ll get it vented. Keep the pressure on and contain that fire, Lieutenant Cash.”
“Yes, ma’am. You heard her, team.” Woods was back and began knocking holes in hallway walls with his Halligan. The fire screamed and lashed out, as if it never wanted to be alive yet couldn’t bear the prospect of dying. Flash felt it and empathized with the elemental entity.
I’ll put you down, she thought in a consciousness she almost believed the blaze could understand. I’ll relieve your misery.
“We’ve got more survivors,” Jackson said into the walkie chatter. “Getting them out the side exit.”
“Roger that.”
Their hoses on full didn’t quench the flames as they inched closer to the chemical drums. Flash began to worry.
Should she pull her team? She couldn’t risk their lives if the tanks exploded.
But Jake said something about not letting the chemicals into the air, that it might poison the whole neighborhood.
She squeezed her hose tighter while eternal seconds ticked by.
There were too many things that could go wrong.
If they did, it was on her. Why did I let Athena talk me into this?
I was fine taking orders. At least taking orders from Smokey, but not Lieutenant Edwards, the jerk.
No, this was up to her. They had to stop the fire from reaching the drums. There was no other option.
Flash concentrated on the comforting sound of her regulator’s steady hiss, letting the oxygen wash her clean from the inside out. Easy now, fire, she thought. I don’t know what pissed you off, but back down. Take a rest.
Movement ahead. Through the twisting red-and-black columns, firefighters raced between the rows of steel drums. Their hoses came alive, sandwiching the blaze between them.
In ten more minutes, the air cleared. Steam and smoke sizzled, and the last flames gave up.
Flash knew it was Engine Crew One—not the thoughts in her head—that quieted the fire.
Then again, she didn’t rule out anything.
Thank you, she thought, then shook hands with Trevino. “Thanks, man. You got here just in time.”
“I don’t know,” he said, pulling up his mask. “Y’all seemed to have had it hogtied by the time we added our dab of water.”
“And what took you so long?” Waylon complained, tone playful. “Had to stop and tie your bootlaces?”
“Naw, man. We had to drive all over creation to get to that service entrance, and the manager dude was all panicked. Anyway, it worked out, so no sweat, right?”
Waylon clapped him on the shoulder. “Sure. We’re good.”
They rolled their hoses as they lumbered back the way they had come. Flash stopped at the office door. “I wanna take a quick look.”
“Sure,” Woods said. “We’ll just twiddle our thumbs while you go sightseeing.”
She shot him a perturbed glance and headed into the room.
An outline marked where the man had lain.
The ceiling was gone, and sunlight filtered through venting stripes far overhead.
File cabinets, computers, charred and melted.
Fires left patterns. Chaos had a shape. She knew industrial fires played by different rules from house fires or wildfires.
Still, something didn’t sit right. She shook her head and rejoined her team.
Outside, firefighters were packing up. The ambulances had left.
Plant workers stood around in clumps across the parking lot, talking with police officers and fire department representatives.
“Drain and stow the hoses,” she ordered.
“Check all your gear. I don’t want anyone leaving an air tank or Halligan behind. ”
“We would never!” Woods exclaimed in jest. But Flash was all business. She strode to where Captain O’Riley, Assistant Chief Velasquez, and the two other captains were conversing. She wanted to ask questions and make recommendations, but she waited.
O’Riley caught her eye. “Good job,” he said. “But if it had taken any longer, we might all be playing harps about now.”
“Casualties?” Flash asked.
“Three bodies were recovered, two more missing,” he said. “And why’d you spare Woods to bring out a dead victim? In major fires like this, we need everyone in there.”
Flash swallowed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She wasn’t sure of the correct response. “I didn’t waste time assessing his condition. I’d rather err on the side of maybe saving a life than maybe leaving someone to die, sir.”
He narrowed his brows at her. “You knew he was dead.”
“He shouldn’t have been.”
“Come again?” Now, all the captains and Velasquez stared at her.
“He was lying on the floor in an office that appeared to be the fire’s point of origin. The door wasn’t blocked. Others from that area surely evacuated. It seemed suspicious to me that he was there, and I didn’t want his body to suffer further degradation.”
O’Riley cocked his head at her. “You might be dating an FBI agent, but you aren’t a detective—or do you desire a career change?”
“No, sir.”
“Houston Police and the fire marshal’s office are investigating the cause, and I’m sure they’ll look at the office before making a determination. Thank God it didn’t start in that staging warehouse.”
“Your team and Squad rescued at least eight people, and that’s something to be proud of,” Velasquez said, but her smile was strained.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Get out of here, Cash,” her captain said with a wave. “The day isn’t over yet.”
She inclined her head. “On my way.” Pivoting on her heel, Flash hustled back to her truck and climbed in. “All aboard?” she asked, taking a quick glance.
“Ready to roll,” Waylon said as he threw it into reverse. Backup beeps ensued, and people moved out of the way. “Considering we’re all still alive and we didn’t lose half the city, I’d call this one a success.”
Flash tried to smile, but it lacked inspiration. She couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been a little faster, maybe they could have saved the man in the office.