Chapter 28
twenty-eight
Sirens blare and engines roar as we speed down Main Street. Perils of this job aside, leaving Reyna behind while she’s hurt is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.
“Cap?” Brex’s voice cuts through my thoughts from his seat next to mine. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I snap, hand gripping the oh-shit handle, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
When the Lakeside County Library comes into view, all I can see is thick black smoke billowing from the second-floor windows. My stomach drops when I glance down at the blueprints spread across my lap.
Shit. It looks like it could be the children’s section.
Dispatch said the alarm was triggered manually, and that no one called 911 to report seeing flames until five minutes later. But the amount of smoke tells me this is no false alarm.
“Engine One on scene,” I announce as Kurtis pulls up to the front entrance. “Saint, take the ladder team around back. I want eyes on all exits.”
“On it.” Brex jumps out, moving to direct the ladder truck crew.
I scan the building, noting the smoke patterns. “Kurtis, you’re with me. We’re breaching the front doors.”
The library is a two-story brick building—classic architecture that’s been a Lakeside landmark for over fifty years. The thought of it going up in flames makes me sick to my stomach.
“Alan, Taylor! Get the hose on the second floor! I want water on those flames yesterday!” I bark.
As we haul ass toward the front entrance, I press the button on my comm. “Dispatch, send an ambulance STAT. Possible civilians inside.”
Helmet in place, my heart hammers hard as we shoulder our way through the double doors.
The second we’re through, a wave of heat smacks me right in the face. Even through my turnout gear, it’s oppressive. A dry, suffocating heat telling me we’ve only got minutes before it takes over the whole building.
Smoke chokes the lobby, thick and black, rolling along the ceiling in waves as my breath Darth Vader’s loudly in my ear.
“Lakeside Fire!” I shout, voice muffled by my SCBA mask. “Anyone in here?”
The only answer is the crackle of flames and the distant hiss of water smacking against heat as the crew starts blasting the roof from the outside.
“Heads up, Cap. Second floor looks almost fully involved,” Brex’s voice crackles through my radio. “East wing. Kids’ section.”
My stomach drops. Just as I thought. “Any news of civilians from the other team?”
“Negative. They’re still sweeping.”
“Copy. Keep me posted.” I key off, turning to Kurtis. “We’re going up. Stay low and on my six.”
Cutting the flashlight through the haze, he moves to my left. “Stairs are clear, Cap.”
With the stairwell already filling with smoke, visibility drops to almost zero as we climb, heat intensifying with each careful step. I can hear the fire now. The unmistakable roar. A living, breathing thing feeding on decades of history.
The sound crawls up my spine, but I shove the fear down deep where it belongs.
At the top of the stairs, the heat is even more intense.
Flames lick along the ceiling, crawling across shelves of picture books and bean bag chairs. Charred and crumbling, pages curl as the fire devours. Carpet smolders beneath our boots, and somewhere to my left, a beam cracks, filling the air with a sound like a gunshot.
“Jesus,” Kurtis mutters from behind me. “It’s moving so fucking fast.”
“Too fast,” I agree, scanning the room.
Glass shatters as a torrent of water blasts through the second-floor windows.
Instantly, I drop into a crouch, shielding my face with my arm as icy spray cuts through the smoke, causing steam to billow up from the smoldering carpet. The pressure’s brutal. Brex and his team are laying it on thick, and for a second I’m grateful the heat’s been knocked back a few degrees.
“Brex, you son of a bitch,” I mutter into my comm. “A little warning next time.”
His laugh crackles through the comm. “No can do, Cap. Fire waits for no one.”
Shaking my head, I motion Kurtis forward. “Let’s move. Stay low.”
We head deeper, kicking aside melted plastic chairs and charred remnants of books. Water is pooling fast now, sloshing under my boots, turning the ash into a thick, black slurry.
Visibility is still shit, but the hose line is punching enough holes in the smoke that it allows me to make out the shape of the bookshelves, the collapsed reading nook in the corner, and a little puppet theater someone built near the far wall.
“Lakeside Fire!” I shout again. “Anyone in here? Call out if you can hear me!”
The only response is the roar of the fire, the hiss of water, and the creak of dying wood above our heads.
I sweep left while Kurtis takes right, methodically checking behind every shelf, under every table as we make our way through the rest of the floor. Office clear. Bathroom clear.
When we reach the door to the second stairwell, I hear a faint, muffled cry.
Hand shooting up, signaling Kurtis, I ask, “You hear that?”
Another muffled cry hits my ears.
He freezes, head cocked. “Fuckin’A, I do.”
Shoving through the door puts us against a wall of smoke curling through the narrow concrete shaft in heavy, choking plumes. Cutting a path through the haze with my flashlight, I sweep it across the landing below us, but find it empty.
Boots hammering against concrete, we take the steps two at a time.
Then, halfway down the stairs, curled in the corner of the landing, is Lakeside’s head librarian for the last twenty years, Mrs. Holloway. A massive oak beam has fallen, pinning her legs to the floor. Blood streaks down her temple, matting her silver hair to the side of her face.
“Oh, thank God,” she rasps, voice shredded from the smoke. “I couldn’t— I tried to move it, but—”
“Don’t move. We’ve got you,” I order, crouching beside her as my gloved hands inspect the beam. It’s thick. Solid.
I glance up. Shit. It looks like part of the second-floor support has started to give way.
Kurtis follows my line of sight. We exchange a knowing look, and I jerk my chin. “Hurry, grab the other end! We gotta get the fuck out of here!”
Never one to miss giving me crap about my language, Mrs. Holloway rasps, “Let’s keep it PG, boys.”
Despite the severity of our current situation, neither of us is able to keep the grin from bleeding into our tone. “Yes, ma’am.”
Maneuvering down a couple of steps, Kurtis shifts and drops his shoulder, positioning himself in place. “On three, Cap.”
“One, two—three.”
We heave. The beam groans, moving maybe an inch before it settles back down with a sickening thud.
It takes us three more tries before we can shift the beam enough to haul her out.
“Okay, Mrs. Holloway, we’re gonna get you out of here.” She nods as I bend at the knees, helping her to her shaky feet before slinging her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Lighter than I expected, she lets out a small oof but doesn’t complain. “Hang on. I’ve got you.”
I turn to Kurtis. “Let’s move.”
Mrs. Holloway’s slight frame bounces against my back with each hurried step as he leads us down, with me following close behind. The ceiling groans, concrete dust sifting down from above, and I pray to whoever is listening that it holds for at least another thirty seconds.
“Almost there,” Kurtis calls over his shoulder, voice tight.
When the exit finally comes into view, he kicks the door open.
Bright sunlight causes my eyes to water behind my mask, blinding me for a moment after being stuck in smoke-filled darkness for almost thirty minutes.
Two medics sprint toward us rolling a gurney.
“Female, mid-sixties, trapped under debris,” Kurtis shouts over the sound of rushing water. “Smoke inhalation, possible leg fracture.”
Gently, I lower the librarian onto the gurney as medics swarm around her with practiced efficiency. One already has an oxygen mask in place, the other checking her vitals while a third cuts her pant leg open to assess the damage.
“We’ve got her,” one of them says, not even sparing us a glance.
I take a step back, yank my mask away from my face, and suck in a deep, greedy breath of fresh air. Cool, clean, and so fucking good, it’s what I imagine downing a cold glass of water after spending a week in the desert would feel like.
Squinting up at the second floor, I watch as the last of the black smoke gives way to thin, wispy tendrils curling from the shattered windows.
The hoseline is doing its job, punching through the remaining flames.
The worst of it’s over. The library is still standing, charred and battered but structurally sound from what I can tell.
I press the button on my comm. “Saint,” I snap. “Report.”
“Second floor is looking a hell of a lot better,” Brex responds, voice steady and calm.
“Flames are under control on the east wing. We’ve got water on the rest of the hotspots.
No major structural collapse that we can tell so far.
Some buckling in the ceiling joists, but nothing that looks like it’s gonna come down. ”
“Tell the team to err on the side of caution when assessing the back stairwell. A beam did come down in there.”
“Copy.”
“Casualties?”
“Negative. My team is doing a final sweep now. Alan and Taylor are mopping up the last of the hot spots in the west wing.”
“Copy. Keep me posted.” I scrub a hand over my face, smearing soot and sweat over my skin.
Mask hanging loose around his neck, Kurtis claps me on the shoulder with a grin. “Good save, Cap.”
Clapping back, I return his grin. “Good save, L.T.”