“Fuck!”
Carter and I both yell at the same time. I immediately turn off the stove and rush through the kitchen doors, behind Carter to the garage. Running past me are Sean, Don, and Captain Waverly. The five of us pile into the garage, taking less than a minute to step into our boots and turnout gear. We’re joined by the rookie who’d just been in the kitchen with me as well.
“Hurry up!” I yell at him as he stumbles to properly put on his turnout gear. “Let’s go,” I growl, jumping into the back of the fire truck and holding the door open for him. With one hand I pull him inside, as he still struggles to get his gear on correctly.
I bang on the side of the truck, alerting Sean, who’s in the front behind the wheel, that we’re all ready. The captain is in the passenger seat, communicating with headquarters. I turn up the volume on my intercom to be able to hear the information that’s being conveyed to him.
“What’s the name of the school?” Carter shouts up to the front, asking the captain.
Captain radios dispatch to get the name. The panicked expression on Carter’s face isn’t ordinary. I’ve been on a few calls with him over the past couple of days, not to mention having worked with him in the Army. He doesn’t get panicked. But he is now. That, I realize, is the look of a father concerned for his son.
“P.S. Fifty-six,” Captain calls back.
A sigh of relief is released. It’s not Diego’s school.
But that doesn’t mean he isn’t completely focused on ensuring the safety of the children at this school.
“Why were there even children at the school on a Saturday?” I question.
“Some type of play rehearsal or something. Don and Emanuel, you two are on rescue. Carter, you’re assisting the rookie with the hose. Sean, you’re going to set up the perimeter. Got it?”
“Got it,” everyone responds, just as we pull up to the front of the school.
I hop out of the truck and my heart plummets to see smoke billowing out of one of the top windows.
“We need to get inside,” Don yells at the captain.
“Wait!” he urges.
I frown, my gaze bouncing between the captain and Don. I start to have doubts about Captain Waverly. I’m all too familiar with the captain who cares more about preserving his reputation than saving lives.
“There are children in there!” I yell.
Waverly glares at me, pissed. “I said wait!” He turns his back, telling Carter and the rookies where to set up the hose. And Sean begins setting up the perimeter, pushing onlookers back.
I grow anxious, the ax in my hand feeling heavier and heavier as the desire grows to break through something and pull out anyone I can find. I take a step forward, ready to ignore the captain’s orders, when a hand clasps my arm. I glance to my right to see Don’s angry face.
“Captain said wait so we fucking wait.”
“There’re fucking kids in there.”
“No one knows that better than him.”
I glare at Don, snatching my arm away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He moves closer, getting in my face.
We have a stare off. Out of everyone at Rescue Four, Don has been the slowest to warm up to me. Which is fine, I get it, but if he thinks he’s going to stand in the way of me doing my damn job …
“All right, front door’s blocked by chairs. Can’t get in that way. Don and Emanuel, you’ll have to head around to the back and climb in the first story windows, back there,” Captain Waverly yells over.
Don and I immediately start running to the back of the school. The first story windows are a few feet off the ground but not too difficult to hoist my bodyweight through. We both work, breaking through the glass of the windows easily with our axes, and then toss them inside. Using our hands and arms to lift our bodies up and over windowsill, we fall into the school.
I land right next to my ax. Picking it up, I also lower my face mask over my face and glance over to see Don has done the same.
“Fire department!” we both begin calling out, as we wind our way down the hall.
“The auditorium is at the far end of the first floor, closer to the front door,” Captain says into the intercom, guiding us to where we believe most of the children and staff are located.
