Chapter 23 – Michael
Chapter Twenty-Three
MICHAEL
S tepping into the high school’s main hallway, I take in the two paths. One, leading to the gym and cafeteria, is clear. From the other direction, smoke billows along the lockers.
My team fans out, everyone following their assigned routes to anyone who might be trapped or otherwise in need of assistance. Since it’s Sunday and the school was locked when the fire started, there’s a good chance no one is in here, but you can never be sure.
I take a step toward the smoke—and then freeze.
It’s like weights have been clamped around my ankles. I’m sinking into the floor, unable to move, unwanted images flashing across my mind’s eye.
My dad. In a fire similar to this one—on the mainland, on a Sunday. Looking for occupants.
It’s when he had his heart attack and collapsed.
My windpipe tightens, but my SCBA is working just fine, pumping air into my mask. It’s me that isn’t all right.
I haven’t been in a fire this big since Seattle, and I thought I could handle it. It’s not the fire itself that’s challenging me, though. It’s what it reminds me of.
My dad.
The man who slipped away in the blink of an eye, before we had a chance to make up.
What if I don’t make it out of here alive? Katie will be orphaned. And Hannah…
I shake some sense into myself. I need to keep it together. There could be people in this building relying on my finding them and getting them out safely.
I make my way down the hallway, Red and the rest of my team at my side. “It’s all classrooms down this way?” I ask over our comms line.
“Yep,” Red, whose kid goes here, confirms.
I nod and push forward, kicking open doors to make sure each room is empty. We round a bend, getting closer to the source of the smoke, when I notice something odd. Flames. At the end of the hallway.
But they’re purple.
Shit.
“Where’s the chem lab?” I ask Red.
His eyes widen as he gets what I’m suggesting. “At the end of the hallway.”
I switch to the main line. “It’s a chemical fire! Halt any water use. Get the foams ready.”
Why did I not think of this? Of course every high school has a chemistry lab. And with my training in Seattle, I should know better. I was part of a team that handled calls all the time for an industrial park that produced bath and body products.
I haven’t had my head screwed on straight; that’s my problem. I’ve been distracted by my own problems since the call came in, too busy feeling sad about my dad.
And now we could all pay for it.
“We need to back out,” I bark into the line. “Get chemical protective clothing and move back in.”
We hustle out of the building, sweat pouring down my temples, and get into the chemical-resistant suits. Meanwhile, the fire rages behind us, and a crowd of curious onlookers appears. The police drive them away across the lawn, preparing for a possible explosion.
“You okay?” Red eyes my shaking hands as I pull on my gloves.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
I lead my team back in, with the crew on the outside feeding the hose with foam through a broken window in the chemistry lab. This time, I move with more purpose, determined to get in and out as swiftly as possible.
Lab fires are no joke. It’s not a matter of if there will be an explosion—it’s when.
My heart hammering at the speed of light, I make my way into the lab, followed by my team. Thank God, the source of the fire is apparent immediately. A glass cabinet has been broken, and in front of it, a beaker of chemicals sits on a lit Bunsen burner.
My lips draw thin. Great. So some teenager pissed at being given detention decided they would blow up the school?
“We need to read the labels first,” I tell my team. “To make sure we use the right kind of foam.”
I grab one of the containers on the counter and try to read the label, but the smoke makes it nearly impossible.
“Michael?” Red asks. “We need to make a call.”
I curse under my breath. “If we use the wrong foam?—”
“We don’t have time.”
He’s right. I need to take a shot in the dark, and pray it’s the right one.
“Get the AR-AFFF pumping!” I shout across the comms line.
“Copy that,” a voice from outside responds.
I put down the container, about to move for the hose, when there’s a deafening boom. The whole room shakes, and I’m knocked off my feet.
I hit the ground on my side, the impact sending a shock through my body. Images flash in front of my eyes. Katie playing in our yard with Rose… The fight with my dad—the last time I ever saw him… And Hannah.
Hannah in my house, waking up in my bed every morning. Wearing a wedding dress and saying “I do” as she looks into my eyes. Standing beside me clapping as we watch Katie graduate from high school.
It’s the life we could have had, and just as quickly as it’s there…it’s gone.