Chapter 87
Nick
Battalion Chief Elena Andreyevna arrives at Union Square, where we’re located, and together we coordinate what to do with the people we’ve evacuated from Avant the hospitals are at capacity, and the roads that aren’t destroyed are clogged with people trying to flee.
The city is devastated, and many of the older buildings have been reduced to rubble. Fires spring up everywhere, and, according to the radio, the National Guard and FEMA have been called in to provide relief.
We do everything we can, but in those early hours after the quake, it really just feels like a desperate fight for survival.
We take no breaks.
Everywhere I turn, more people need help. People trapped in cars, in buildings, under rubble. Fires springing up in apartments or in restaurants, wires down, wounds, broken bones.
I settle into a numb rhythm as we work, hardly aware of my own exhaustion. However, I know the exhaustion is somewhere in the distant recesses of my psyche with my bottled up grief, waiting until the adrenaline wears off to annihilate me.
“Hey, you need to take a break.”
I blink and look up from where I’ve been washing my hands in a basin in the makeshift triage tent that we’ve set up, not far from the Avant & Co building.
Vinnie stands in front of me, extending a water bottle in one hand. He’s covered in dirt, sweat, and blood—maybe his, maybe not—and I know I don’t look much better. Maybe worse.
“Thanks.” I take the water from him, and together, we sit roughly on a section of the curb.
“How are you doing, man?” he asks.
I take a swig of the water. Honestly, nothing has ever tasted so good.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“Have you been able to contact Abbie?”
I shake my head. Thoughts of reuniting with my daughter are keeping me going right now. If she’s lost, I’ll search the entire city to find her.
“I still have my phone,” Vinnie says. “If I get any service, you can use it.”
“Thanks, man.”
He wipes at his sweaty forehead. “Do you think the shaking is done?”
“I doubt it. It was a big motherfucker. Those aftershocks can last a while.”
“Shit.” He looks around.
Other crews have joined us in this area, both volunteer and professional, some from the SFFD, a few from the National Guard, and even a small collection of FEMA agents. Civilians help out, handing out water and snacks.
“I don’t know if Mila told you,” Vinnie says quietly, “but we saw Tristan go down with the road when it collapsed. I’m so sorry, man. I tried to get to him, but I couldn’t. And the…” his voice breaks, “…the whole ambulance went down on top of him.”
I feel the sobs wanting to work their way out through my throat, and I fight to keep them down.
“Do you think… do you think he’s okay?”
Vinnie finally meets my gaze. There are tears in his eyes. “I think we have two firefighters, Captain Hyun and Tristan, who are somewhere in there. And I can’t rest until I know what happened to them.”
He nods to Battalion Chief Andreyevna, who is standing by our truck, frowning and talking to a National Guardsman.
“You’re our interim captain,” Vinnie says gravely. “It’s up to you what we do. But I think Elena would honor that our crew isn’t fully out yet, and we owe it to them to go looking.”