Chapter 24
Having done this job for years, Flash had seen so many crazy, idiotic things. They say everything is bigger in Texas, which is mostly true. So why, when it came to brains, did so many folks fall short?
They rolled up to the next address to find a smoking charcoal BBQ grill standing in the kitchen of a small house packed with people, its pungent lighter-fluid smell saturating the air.
Grandpa was out in a chair, two children were vomiting, a third staggered about, and the mom and dad were almost catatonic.
They put out the charcoal, opened up the house, and removed the family to fresh air, where Nita and Al Luis treated them.
Before leaving, she firmly instructed, “Charcoal grills are for outside. You almost all died of carbon monoxide poisoning. And the HFD recommends every home be equipped with a CO detector.”
She wanted to rake the adults over the proverbial coals for being so stupid, but she bit her tongue. Officers behave professionally.
Even with alternating crews from B shift on Engine Eight, dispatch kept them hopping—burst water pipes triggered a fire alarm at Walmart; a multi-car pileup on the freeway overpass; downed power lines.
On the last call, they rescued two kids from freezing water after they ventured onto a thin crust of ice covering their backyard pool.
Their relief crew was already waiting in the apparatus bay, checking their gear and replacing spent air cylinders when Engine Eight rolled in. Flash and her firefighters had barely stripped off their frozen coats before the next bell sent the other crew racing out.
Every call felt heavier than the last, and Flash was feeling the weight of it when another came in. “Chimney fire, single-family residence on West Drew.”
“We’re on it. ETA six minutes,” Flash responded.
“We were just over there,” Waylon commented as he hooked a right.
Flash flicked on the lights and sirens. “Yeah, about three hours ago. We’re taking a break after this one.”
“Thank heavens for answered prayers,” Flores said from the back seat. “I’m starving, not to mention chilled to the bone.”
“OK, everybody stay sharp,” Flash instructed. “Chimney fires can be tricky. They can spread to the attic and roof before you know it.”
Outside, snow continued to fall in powdery piles over the layers of ice.
Power poles leaned, icicle-encrusted cables bowing under the weight.
Thick tree branches drooped. Waylon had to drive around a downed pecan that partially blocked the street, while an eerie gloom blanketed the sky.
It seemed as if only the bright red engine retained color in a world brushed in white and gray strokes.
A booming pop outside her window startled Flash, and she whipped her head toward the sound.
A blue flash erupted from a transformer, raining sparks over the side of the truck and the surrounding ground.
The neighborhood lights went dark, including the traffic signal up ahead.
Flash grabbed the radio and called it in while wind whistled through the inch-wide opening in Waylon’s window.
Along the side of the street and in driveways, parked cars were buried in four to five inches of wintry mix. For an instant, Flash could have sworn she was back in high school in Colorado with her youth group. Then she spotted the smoke billowing over a roof ahead.
Waylon pulled the parking brake. Flash informed dispatch that they’d arrived and got out to assess the scene.
She was glad to see the family standing at a safe distance on their neighbor’s front lawn, wrapped in blankets.
The wind had calmed, but a sudden gust blew the man’s hat off. Flores caught it.
“Save our house!” cried a woman holding a baby. “All our photos, our memories—”
The man interrupted. “I grabbed our old fire extinguisher, took a minute to find it, and emptied the whole thing up the fireplace. It just made a cloud of white powder. The roaring never stopped, and smoke started pouring back into the living room. That’s when I called 911 and got my family out.”
“But Whiskers!” cried the little girl. She strained against her father’s arms, trying to pull away. “Dad didn’t let me go find her. The noise and smoke scared her, and she ran upstairs.”
“Is Whiskers your cat?” Flash asked.
The sobbing girl sniffed and mopped at her eyes. “She’s a cat, but she’s my best friend. You have to save her.”
“I’ll try,” was all Flash could promise. “Cats are very resilient, you know. That’s why people say they have nine lives.” She straightened and turned to her crew. “Waylon, charge a line. Woods, Flores, check the roof for fire extension. I’m going in.”
While her crew got to their tasks, Flash stepped through the front door, past a small foyer, and into the big living room.
Considering the temperature and lack of light, she supposed the power was out here as well.
Most homes in Houston operated on heat pumps rather than gas furnaces.
It was seldom cold enough to warrant a gas furnace, and most homes, especially newer ones, didn’t have basements.
Yet wood-burning fireplaces remained popular for ambiance.
There was nothing like the crackle of a fire on a cool night, the glow from the hearth, the smell of oak logs.
She didn’t smell oak, but turpentine. The logs in the firebox were coated in white powder, but she could hear the roaring blaze from farther up the flue. Glancing about, Whiskers was nowhere to be seen. Probably under the child’s bed upstairs, she suspected. Where’s Waylon with that hose?
Flash walked out through the front door. “What are y’all doing, building snowmen?”
“You know I have to struggle with these frozen hydrants,” Waylon shouted from three houses down as he manhandled the cap with his hefty wrench.
She clomped through the yard and peered around the corner. Flores heeled the ladder, bracing it with a foot and both hands, while Woods climbed out onto the roof. He kept a hand on the top rung of the ladder as he steadied himself.
“All right up there?” she called.
“Yeah. I strapped some ice cleats on my boots,” he said. “Ordered them next-day delivery when we started getting storm reports. There’s plenty of smoke.”
I should have thought of that! Flash marveled at Shaquille’s preparedness.
She watched as he made slow, steady progress toward the chimney. “Adams, don’t take all day!”
“I’m coming!”
At once, something went wrong. Woods slipped.
His steps bore into the snowy roof to no avail as an immense sheet of powder-covered ice started to slide out from under him.
Pieces large and small crashed over the eave, peppering Flores, who continued to ground the ladder.
Bobbie looked like a cartoon character running in place.
Then his feet flew out from under him as his chest hit the cracked, careening ice sheet, carrying him with it.
Heart pounding, Flash rushed to Flores’ side. “Try to grab the ladder,” she yelled up. “Grab something!”
Ice blocks broke off as the sheet came over the side, spilling buckets of snow onto Flash and Bobbie. In an instant, Waylon was there too.
“Hang on, Shaquille!” he yelled.
Flash squeezed between her crewmates and started climbing.
If nothing else, she might catch a piece of him to break his fall.
Frosty bits stung her eyes. She moved faster.
Then Woods’ boots spilled over, followed by his dangling legs.
Her stomach caught in her throat. She’d sent him up there as part of a routine roof check to see whether the fire had spread.
They knew the roof would be slick, but this?
She felt the ladder jerk and wobble. Waylon and Bobbie held it firm. Shaquille didn’t fall. He’d snagged the top of the rail.
“Hang on,” she said. “I’m coming.”
Flash guided his feet to the rungs and waited for him to be steady. With a tight grip on the rails, she descended two rungs ahead of him, ensuring he’d make it down safely.
“Woods,” she said, relieved when his feet were on the ground. “What happened up there?”
“My guess is the heat from the fire started melting the ice.”
The realization slammed into her, stealing her breath. “I should have accounted for that. I should have known.”
“Why?” Woods answered casually. “Because you’ve had so much experience fighting fires in blizzards? I’m OK. Now, I think it’s safe to assume the fire has spread to the attic.”
The miscalculation, the mistake that could have landed one of her firefighters in the hospital, pierced Flash to the core with guilt and regret, but she didn’t have time to deal with it now.
“OK. Waylon, let’s get this line in there and shut it down. Woods, you all right?”
“I just said I’m fine.”
Unconvinced, she patted him down, looking him over. “Are you sure? No pain? Didn’t hit your head?”
“Just fell flat, but I’m ready to rock and roll.”
Knowing they had limited time to attack the fire, she nodded, forced to trust him. “You and Flores get the other line in there. We’ll attack from the fireplace and the upstairs attic access panel.”
“We’re on it,” Flores said with a wink. He gave Woods a bro-hug. “Although, if you had skittered off that roof like a dog off a speeding treadmill, you could still cook for us with your leg in a cast.”
Flash didn’t feel like jokes. She and Waylon dragged their hose to the front door.
“Wow, that was crazy,” the man exclaimed. “Glad the fireman is OK.”
“Me too,” Flash answered. “Where’s your attic access?”
“At the end of the upstairs hallway, in front of the linen closet,” he said.
“Don’t forget about Whiskers!” wailed the little girl.
“I’ll keep a lookout.” Turning to Waylon, she said, “Let’s go.”
Smoke swirled near the ceiling upstairs, banking down around the cracks in the access panel at the end of the hall.
As long as the cat wasn’t up there, it should be fine.
Flash opened the valve to drench the board before attempting to push it back.
When she gave Waylon the OK, he hit it with his Halligan.
The sudden influx of air fueled the blaze, sending tongues of fire whipping through the opening, as if lashing out at Flash for making such a stupid mistake.
She turned the valve and aimed her stream right up the flames’ ass.
When the fire was out, Flash opened bedroom doors, checking rooms. An orange-and-white calico streaked out from under a child’s bed and down the stairs.
“Hey, look,” Waylon said cheerfully. “No casualties.”
From below, the little girl squealed, “Whiskers!”
Flash swallowed a wad of emotions. “Yeah, that’s good.” She felt as if her pride, her leadership, her very identity had taken a beating. I should have thought about the fire’s heat melting the ice. But to come down in a big sheet like that?
Her friend must have noticed her brooding as she rolled the empty hose while taking her time down the steps. “Here, let me do that.” Waylon took it from her.
“That was on me,” she grumbled. “My mistake could have gotten Shaquille hurt.”
“Hey, cut yourself some slack,” he said as they reached the ground floor. “Not even lieutenants get every call right. What matters is that you handled the situation and didn’t lose focus.”
She nodded, saying nothing. But I shouldn’t have made a mistake.
“Thank you for saving Whiskers!” The little girl beamed at Flash through her tears as she squeezed the cat to her chest. The cat looked like it wanted to be anywhere else.
“Thank you for saving our home,” gushed the child’s mother. She hugged Flash, toddler and all.
“What’s the damage?” the man asked.
“The roof isn’t about to cave in, but you’ll need your insurance adjuster to advise you on getting a contractor and making repairs. And, naturally, part of the upstairs and your living room floor got wet. Tell me, what were you burning in that fireplace?
“Wood,” he answered blankly.
“What kind of wood?” Flash was tired and irritated, and this fellow seemed as clueless as everyone she’d dealt with that day.
“Pine,” he said. “We lost a tree a few years back, and I chain-sawed it up for firewood. No point letting it go to waste.”
She pinned him with a weary stare. “You’ve been burning pine in your fireplace for years?
” She throttled back the tongue-lashing she yearned to give him.
That’s why the chimney smelled like turpentine and, after years of buildup, why it caught fire.
“Have a professional chimney sweep clean it before you use it again, and never, ever burn pine logs.”
“Sure, but after today, I don’t think I ever want to burn anything in there again.”
When Flash pulled herself into the cab, she didn’t switch their status to available. “Let’s head to the station, have lunch, and take a break. Our shift is still young. No point running ourselves into the ground.”
“Hells to the yeah!” Woods cheered. He didn’t seem the least bit upset with her. Somehow, that made it worse.