“Yeah, Cap,” Matt said, a grin on his face. “What was her answer?”
“She said yes,” said Hansen, and a sigh of relief and clapping fluttered around the table. Hansen was still looking at me, and I smiled at him, clapping him on the shoulder in a brotherly way.
“Congratulations, man.”
“Thanks,” Hansen said. “I have a question for you, though.”
“What?”
“Butler, will you be my best man?”
For a long moment, I pretended to mull this over. Then I got up, shaking my head, and went around the table to clap my friend on the back. “You couldn’t keep me away, Hansen.”
“Thanks,” he said. “It means a lot.”
“Anything for you and Paisley.”
Before Hansen could respond to this, the alarm sounded loud and grating but familiar nonetheless, bringing all of us back to the reality of our lives. Our work. Always our work.
“Ladder, Engine, and Ambulance One respond to 654 Wilson Street for reports of a commercial fire. Casualties are unknown at this time.”
“Damn,” I muttered, squeezing Hansen’s shoulder. “Congratulations, man. You did well. Paisley is a catch.”
“Thanks, Korbin.” Hansen was already moving for the door, and I was right behind him. So was the rest of our crew. “I guess I don’t have to remind you that you and Paisley hated each other for a very long time.”
“Yeah, well, she grew on me. What can I say?”
“The fire sounds bad,” Macie Britton, one of our house volunteers and Hansen’s niece, said, coming out from the back. Macie, an oncologist resident at Eagle River Medical, spent her free time at the station, where she moonlit as a Paramedic.
“Hopefully, most have been evacuated,” said Hansen, hopping into the fire truck. My crew and I gathered in the rescue truck, pulling out as the ambulance went first, then the two big trucks. The guys seemed tense, unsure of what to expect, and I felt the same way. I clicked on our lights and sirens as we made our way across town and traffic as quickly and safely as possible until we ended up where we needed to be.
When we arrived on the scene, the enormous office building was up in flames, flames licking so high and bright that I almost had to shield my eyes. My heart dropped into my stomach as we watched the building burn.
“Shit,” Matt said next to me. “It won’t stand for much longer.”
“Alright then,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Police were already on the scene, attempting to shield the bystanders from standing too close. A young woman with a streak of black ash across her face lunged forward and grabbed my arm, her desperate eyes pleading at us.
“There are people still in there,” she gasped. “Please—please help them.”
“Do you know what happened?” I asked, and she shook her head, looking terrified. “It started somewhere upstairs, is all I know.” Her young, terrified eyes darted towards the building again, her lower lip trembling.
“What’s your name?” I asked her. “Do you work here?”
“No, I don’t work here,” she whispered. “My name is Amanda. I was walking by when I saw the smoke from the upper window. I tried to help people out and called 911.”
“Good job,” I said with a nod. “You did the right thing.”
“We need everyone to back up!” Hansen shouted, and the authority in his voice was unmistakable. Calm. Commanding. Suddenly, an entire crowd of people stepped back, and Hansen and I looked over our shoulders as another vehicle showed up. It was our Chief, Preston Davis.
“Hansen,” he shouted, stepping out of his truck to walk toward us. “Butler. What’s the plan?”
“We need to go in,” I said, and Hansen’s head whipped to the side to frown at me.
“No one is going in there,” he said. “We don’t know how soon this building will collapse. Is that understood?”
I turned away from my best friend and captain to look at our chief. “A civilian just told me there are still people in there,” I said. “If there are any survivors in there, we still have time to get some out before this foundation falls. Let me go in, Chief. Please.”
