“I hope it isn’t an EV. I know some of the guys have them,” Lucas adds, and we all make a disgruntled noise in agreement. Those are fucking hell to put out.
Charlie pulls the rig into the parking lot, and I immediately spot smoke coming from one corner of the building. Once we’re parked, I grab my helmet and jump out, and scan the large group of people outside for familiar blond waves. A guy I recognize as Elliot’s head coach comes over, but it’s Blaine’s panic-stricken face that has my heart shooting up into my throat. The moment he spots me, he runs over. His voice is all high-pitched and panicked, and his words come out in a rush.
“Elliot’s in there. He went in to get Boomer, but it’s been five minutes, and he still hasn’t come out.” He runs his tensed hand through his hair, his wide eyes returning to the building. “Fuck. What if he’s trapped? He’ll panic. He’s not good in confined spaces.Fuck!”
The image of Elliot’s face from the day I found him in the elevator flashes through my mind, and my own chest tightens. He’ll be terrified.
“Okay, I need you to explain. Where did he go?” I ask, trying to remain calm.
“He’ll be in Coach’s office.” He squeezes his eyes closed briefly and sucks in a shallow breath. “You’ll go through the doors, then turn right. It’s the office at the end of the hall.”
I nod firmly, then turn to Coach Harris. “Source of the fire?”
“The Zamboni bay. I was informed by the operator there was a known faulty wire, but that’s all I know.” He swallows, a rare hint of anxiety flashing in his eyes. “My office is near the bay. I have my door on an auto-lock.”
Fuck, and if Elliot let the door close, then started to panic, it’s most likely he couldn’t figure out how to open the door again because he wouldn’t be thinking clearly.
“Is the Zamboni fuel or electric?” I ask.
“Electric.”
I nod and turn to address my team. “O’Connor, get a hole in that roof. Spencer, cut the electricity and gas, then soak the place. Wilson, you’re with me.”
Everyone disperses, and once we’re equipped with our SCBA gear, I jog inside with Lucas following close behind. I head in the direction Blaine gave, checking the plaques on the door. The further we go, the denser the smoke gets, and it reduces our visibility. When we find the right door, I push hard on the handle and slam my shoulder into it. It rattles but doesn’t open.
“Elliot, I need you to move away from the door,” I shout, then count to ten, giving him a chance to move, before I step back and kick the door as hard as I can. The doorframe splinters slightly, so I do it again, and again. Finally, the door flies open. I rush in and find Elliot slumped against the wall, his head lolled to the side and eyes closed. Boomer is lying across his body, licking the side of his face and neck in distress.
“Elliot,” I say, loud enough to be heard through my mask. “Are you with me?”
He doesn’t stir. Like he’s asking for help, Boomer nudges me with his nose when I check Elliot’s pulse. It’s there, but it’s weak.
“Wilson, take the dog,” I demand.
Boomer lets out a wailing cry when Lucas picks him up. He moves out the way, and I quickly assess Elliot for any injuries before hooking my arms under his armpits and lifting him up.
“Stay with me, baby,” I beg, heart pounding behind my ribs.
With one hand on his arm, I squat down and place him across my shoulders, then carry him outside.
“Elliot!” Blaine yelps the moment he sees us.
I carry Elliot to the ambulance and carefully place him down onto the waiting stretcher. I take my mask off while they check his airways, then place a mask over his face to administer oxygen.
“No injuries visible. High smoke exposure. It was likely he experienced a panic attack and fainted. He was unresponsive on arrival. Pulse was weak,” I explain. My chest tightens with each word, making it hard to breathe.
I move aside, allowing the paramedics space to begin checking his vitals and make their own assessment. Blaine moves to Elliot’s side, grabbing hold of his brother’s hand.
“Need to check the dog. He’ll be upset if he’s hurt,” I say to no one in particular, my voice sounding faint to my own ears.
I’m vaguely aware of Avi checking over Boomer, who continues to cry in distress in Lucas’s arms.
Elliot loves that dog, and clearly, Boomer loves him too.
I can’t do anything except stand there, frozen, and watch as they put him in the back of the ambulance. Blaine climbs inside with him, and then the doors close, hiding him from view. Sirens blare, and the back of the ambulance becomes a blur as tears fill my eyes. Realization hits me like a boulder, and I stumble back like I’ve been struck.
Fuck.
I nearly lost him.
