“Thank god for pre-fire planning,” Cal says as we pull into the hot zone the factory liaison has established. Kate and Leo head to the cold zone farther away from the structure in a safer location.
“What the hell are we walking into?” I ask Chief Collins as he meets us at the engine.
“Spoke to the foreman. The extruder vat exploded. The blast went up, taking off the roof and an exterior wall.” Chief’s low, grumbling voice is steady as he delivers the situation report and I try to let his no-nonsense demeanor seep into my bones, even though every part of me demands that I move.
“We’ve got one confirmed dead,” he continues. “One seriously injured. Two more injured but ambulatory. Workers are inside trying to mitigate and bring the temperature of the extruder down, but the real issue is that the vat cracked, and we’ve got a pool of molten aluminum spilling on the floor, headed toward standing water in an inaccessible area. That aluminum hits that water, and the whole thing blows again. Us included.”
My stomach drops.
“How much time do we have?” Cal sounds way calmer than I feel. My heart is racing, my muscles tense and ready for action. Standing still for this situation report is excruciating.
“Unknown. They’ve cut the heat and are introducing billets to cool it down, but they’ve got to go slow so they don’t make an incidental wave.”
“Do we know the location of the critical patient?” I ask. We just did pre-fire planning last week, so thelayout of the building is fresh in my mind. Maybe we have time to go in and rescue our injured worker.
Chief nods, pointing to a spot on the building plans. “He’s been located, they just couldn’t get to him. However, the foreman has indicated we’ve got approximately ten minutes until that molten aluminum reaches that water unless they can slow the rate of flow.”
“What’s the status of the worker?” Cal asks, studying the map and then looking at the building.
“Alive but unknown extent of injury,” Chief says, his voice grave with the severity of the situation. “We could wait and let them secure the scene to prevent a secondary explosion.”
I’m shaking my head before he finishes. “Sounds like if we don’t go now, this is going to be a recovery mission, not a rescue.” Every ounce of my being wants to rush in and get the guy.
There’s an open alley we could use to access the building. And if the guy is where they say he is, we could be on him in under a minute.
Chief nods like I’ve spoken aloud, but it could be he’s just thinking the same thing I am. “Right, but we decide as a unit, because this could go bad. Do we wait and see if they can get the extruder cooled down, or do we go in and try to get the guy now?”
“I’m in.” My response is immediate. I don’t need another soul on my conscience.
Cal nods right as another engine pulls in.
“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” Chief says as the crew gathers around us. “Engine Three team is on rescue. I’ll be standing watch over the molten aluminum and will give you a distance barrier on a timed interval. Engine Fourteen,you’re on standby. Back the rest of this equipment up to a warm zone and stand by in safety formation.” Meaning use the truck as a barrier in the event of a secondary explosion.
Minutes later, we leave the stretcher at the outer door. I grab the backboard as Cal pushes open a door, exposing the chaos of the scene.
The roof is gone. Twisted steel hangs, threatening to break loose. We push aside a pile of debris, and I get my first look at the guy we’ve come to save.
He’s a big guy, lying crumpled and half crushed under a shelving unit. At least he’s groaning. “Obvious forehead laceration, multiple extremity fractures.” Cal pins me with a look, likely thinking the same thing I am.Probable broken back.
It’s not the first time in our relatively new partnership that Cal and I have seemed to share a brain wave. Or maybe it’s just that we know how each other operates now. If I move one way, he’s waiting, anticipating my next move. I hope I’m as lucky with my new teammates.
“We’ll cross here.” I point to a section of rubble that looks stable enough for us to carry a backboard over. “Should be a straight shot after that.”
“Establishing perimeter. Approximately five feet to water contact.” Chief’s grumble comes over the radio. Five fucking feet between us living and being blown sky-high in a secondary explosion. My heart rate triples, and sweat beads on my forehead as Cal and I remove the sections of shelving pinning our victim.
“Four feet.”
On shaky legs, I kneel next to our guy. “Hey, man, we’re doing our best to get you out of here, but this might suck for a minute. What’s your name?”
“Phil,” he grunts through gritted teeth.
We work quickly to get a C-collar in place to stabilize him as much as possible prior to moving him.
“Three feet.”
My stomach drops.
“Fuck, that thing’s moving fast,” Cal says. We are nowhere near ready to haul our man out. We’ve barely gotten him freed.
