Chapter 11 Beau
Beau
The radio crackled at twenty-one hundred hours, cutting through the relative quiet that had settled over the command center after Silas and I returned from Creek Hollow.
“Command, this is Fire Two. We have a report of a vehicle in water, Creek Road near the Riverside Bridge. Single occupant visible, requesting immediate water rescue response.”
I was moving before the message finished, years of training taking over. But then the next part came through, and my blood turned to ice.
“Reporting party states occupant appears to be a woman with at least one small child, possibly two. Vehicle is submerged to window level and sinking. Water conditions deteriorating rapidly.”
Everything stopped. The noise of the command center faded to white noise. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything except stand there while my worst nightmare replayed behind my eyes.
The vehicle in the water. The omega’s face, pale and terrified through the window. Small hands pressed against the glass. The way the car settled deeper as I swam toward it, too slow, always too slow. The moment I realized I wasn’t going to make it in time.
“Beau.”
Sable’s voice cut through the paralysis, sharp and clear. I looked up and found her standing directly in front of me, close enough that I could see the concern in her dark amber eyes.
“Response time matters,” she said quietly, just for me. “Every second counts.”
I knew that. Had known it for three years, had lived with that knowledge eating away at me every night when I closed my eyes and saw those small hands slipping away from me.
“I can’t.” The words felt like broken glass in my throat. “Not again. I can’t fail again.”
“You won’t.” She moved closer, not touching me but present in a way that made it impossible to look away. “Beau, you’re the best water rescue specialist in three counties. I’m sending you because you will bring them home.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” Her voice was absolute certainty wrapped in calm authority. “I’ve read your training records. I’ve seen you work. I know what you’re capable of, even if you’ve forgotten.”
“I couldn’t save them.” The admission came out raw, unfiltered. “Three years ago, I tried, I swam as fast as I could, but I wasn’t fast enough. An omega and her kid. They drowned while I was twenty feet away.”
“I know.” Something shifted in her expression, softening. “But Beau, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the person this woman needs right now. You’re the one who can save her.”
My hands were shaking. I shoved them in my pockets, trying to hide the weakness, but Sable saw it anyway. She always saw things I tried to hide.
“What if I freeze again? What if I get there and I can’t move, can’t function? What if I’m too slow?”
“Then Silas and Dane will be right there with you.” She glanced past me, and I realized both of them had moved closer, flanking me without crowding. “You’re not alone in this. You’ve never been alone, you just convinced yourself you were.”
“Fire Two is still waiting for response authorization,” Dane said quietly. “Clock’s ticking.”
Sable’s eyes never left mine. “I need you, Beau. She needs you. Tell me right now if you can’t do this, and I’ll send someone else. But I’m asking you first because I know you’re the best chance those people have.”
It should have felt like pressure. Like she was forcing me into something I wasn’t ready for. But instead, it felt like faith. Like she saw past the failure to the person I’d been before that rescue went wrong.
“Give me five seconds,” I said.
She nodded and stepped back, giving me space but not leaving.
I closed my eyes and did what my trauma therapist had taught me.
Counted my breaths. Felt my feet on the ground.
Reminded myself that this rescue wasn’t that rescue.
This woman wasn’t the one I’d failed. I had better equipment now, better training, better backup.
And I had Sable believing I could do this.
When I opened my eyes, the paralysis had broken. My hands were steady. My mind was clear.
“I’m going,” I said.
“Copy that.” Sable moved immediately to the radio. “Fire Two, this is Command. Water rescue team is deploying now. Lead specialist is Calder, ETA three minutes. Medical support is Vance, security backup is Hollow. Maintain visual contact with vehicle and relay any changes in condition immediately.”
She turned to me. “Full rescue protocol. Dane goes with you for security and backup extraction. Silas handles medical once you get them out. I’ll coordinate from here and make sure you have everything you need.”
“Understood.”
Dane was already moving toward the equipment bay. “Gear up.”
Silas caught my arm as I started to follow. “Hey.” He waited until I met his eyes. “You’ve got this. And if your head starts going sideways, I’m right there. We all are.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Thank me after we bring them home.”
The rain was a solid wall of water when we deployed, visibility reduced to maybe twenty feet even with the truck’s lights cutting through the darkness. Dane drove while I ran through rescue protocols in my head, checking and rechecking my equipment, making sure everything was secured properly.
“Radio check,” I said into my headset.
“Command reads you loud and clear,” Sable’s voice came back immediately. “Current conditions show water level rising six inches per hour. Vehicle is reported stable but settling. You’re still good on time.”
“Copy that.” Hearing her voice helped. Kept me grounded in the present instead of letting my mind slip back three years.
“Fire Two reports they can still see occupants moving inside the vehicle,” Sable continued. “The woman appears to be keeping children calm. Windows are still intact.”
Good. That was good. Meant we had a chance.
The Riverside Bridge came into view, and I could see Fire Two’s truck with lights illuminating the scene.
The vehicle was a sedan, maybe fifteen years old, partially submerged in water that was moving fast enough to rock it slightly.
The creek had overflowed its banks, turning this section of road into a rushing stream that was getting deeper by the minute.
I was out of the truck before Dane brought it to a complete stop, already pulling on my rescue harness and checking the rope system. Captain Torres from Fire Two met me at the water’s edge.
“Single woman, two kids, ages look like maybe four and six,” she said quickly. “Water’s risen another three inches since the initial call. Current is strong. Vehicle is lodged against that fallen tree, which is the only thing keeping it from washing downstream.”
I studied the scene, forcing myself to see it tactically instead of emotionally.
The tree was about thirty feet from shore.
Water was chest-deep where the vehicle sat, probably deeper in the main channel.
Current was running west to east, which meant I’d need to approach from upstream to avoid being pushed past the target.
“Rope system,” I said. “Dane secures the anchor point, I go in on belay. Silas stages here for immediate medical once I extract them.”
“Copy that,” Dane said, already moving to set up the anchor system on the bridge support.
I stripped down to my wetsuit and checked my gear one more time. Rescue knife, strobe light, flotation devices, window punch. Everything I needed to get those people out.
“Beau.” Sable’s voice in my ear again. “Status check.”
“Deploying in sixty seconds. Rope system is solid, approach vector is clear. Water conditions are manageable.”
“You’re going to do this,” she said quietly. “You’re going to bring them home, and when you do, I’ll be here waiting.”
Something in my chest settled at those words. She’d be waiting. Not because she doubted me, but because she believed I was coming back.
“On belay,” Dane called out, tension in the safety line secure.
“Belay on,” I confirmed, and stepped into the water.
The current hit immediately, trying to push me downstream. I used it, angling my body to let the water carry me toward the vehicle while the rope kept me from washing past. The water was cold, runoff from higher elevations, and I could feel debris bumping against my legs as I moved.
Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.
The woman saw me coming. Her face appeared in the driver’s side window, pale and frightened but holding it together. She had a child pressed against her on each side, both small enough that the rising water inside the vehicle was reaching their chests.
I reached the car and pressed against the window. “Can you hear me?”
She nodded frantically.
“I’m going to get you out. All three of you. But I need you to listen carefully and do exactly what I say. Can you do that?”
Another nod. She was shaking, but her eyes were focused. Clear. She was present and functional despite the terror.
“When I break this window, water is going to rush in fast. It’s going to be scary and it’s going to be cold, but it’s the only way to equalize pressure so we can open the door.
I need you to take a deep breath and hold it until I tell you to breathe again.
Keep hold of both children. Do not let go. I’ve got you.”
“Okay,” she said, voice muffled through the glass. “Okay. We can do this.”
“On my count. Three, two, one.”
I used the window punch, and the glass shattered. Water flooded in exactly like I’d warned her, and the woman pulled both children tight against her chest, holding their heads above water as long as possible before going under.
I reached through the opening and found her arm, gripping tight. “I’ve got you. Hold on.”
Getting the door open underwater took precious seconds, but then I had her, pulling her and both children free of the vehicle. She was holding them so tight I wasn’t sure I could separate them even if I wanted to.