John tried the passenger door.
Locked. Of course.
He quickly reached into the heavy turnout coat he wore, found the small yet effective glass-breaking tool in an inside pocket, and went to work.
It didn’t take much force to bust through the already ruined window.
Reaching inside, he unlocked the entire car with the punch of one button and then hurried around to the driver’s door and opened it.
But another problem presented itself.
The car started sliding sideways, straight toward the fire.
Of course. Why not? The nature of the job. If things were easy, there wouldn’t be a need for John or the other firefighters.
Still, John cursed the stroke of bad luck as he quickly followed the descending car. Since the car was sliding down sideways—parallel to the wall of fire and its passenger side closest—he could reach out and take hold of the driver through the open door.
The plan didn’t work. He—an older man probably north of seventy—was strapped in tightly by the seatbelt.
John kept walking with the car, keeping pace with it as it continued to slide, and unclicked the seatbelt. He then had to wrangle it back and clear the guy’s shoulder from it.
The car picked up pace as the slope grew steeper. John was in danger of falling.
The rockface was sheer! Tumbling down would almost certainly mean death.
“It’s now or never, Johnny Boy,” he said as he reached in and yanked the guy free.
There wasn’t a second to spare. As soon as the man was cradled in his arms, the car hit an even faster slide that sent it into the flames moments later.
On movies, cars explode the moment fire reaches them. In real life, it didn’t work that way. It took a lot, but there was a lot with that raging fire, so…
John turned around and huffed it up the hill.
The grade was so steep that John’s boots struggled to find traction as he furiously pumped his legs.
“Come on, damn it! Come on!”
It didn’t help that he was carrying another human, the extra weight making an already difficult hike almost impossible.
Thankfully, the guy was light, his wiry, lean frame not weighing a ton.
But again… it was still an extra person.
Two other firefighters were making their way toward John now just as he was able to get his legs to finally carry him up the jagged slope. Behind him, a deafening roar announced the fire had indeed reached the car’s gas tank. A blast of heat assaulted him. He nearly dropped the man. But thankfully, his grip stayed true.
The explosion sent all the firefighters ducking. They were used to such things, though. Practiced in the art of pushing through fear and fighting instincts to save lives. Everyone recovered quickly and a few seconds later, John had transferred the man into another’s arms.
“You all right?” one of them yelled at John.
He nodded. “Let’s get him up to the ambulance and then get this thing put out before we have another disaster on our hands!” He jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating the orange wall of heat that was inching ever closer.
First, though, they needed to get back up to the road, get more gear, and ready the hoses. He knew some of the others were working on that now, but he wanted to help. Plus, he wanted to see to it personally that the older man he’d carried made it safely to the ambulance.
The guy was breathing, and John said a silent prayer of thanks at the sight of his chest rising and falling.
Once they had the man safely at the top, John peeled off his mask for just a moment, used his forearm to wipe his brow, and then chugged a cold bottle of water that had been handed to him.
He looked around. “Hey, did that girl get in one of the ambulances?”
