He’s not using his radio, so I can barely hear him, but I can see him pointing at the building, and I can see his lips moving.
“It’s abandoned,” I tell him through the radio. “Hugh said the first team cleared it! You heard him. The noise wasn’t a person. Hold the line.”
But Greene’s staring at the building, eyes wide, and as I watch, he drops the freaking hose.
The only other person close is Kaur, and she’s struggling under the weight of a hose she’s managing herself, which means I’m the one who has to go after this ass-clown and drag him out before he gets too far.
“Fuckkkkkkk!” I scream into the night. Into the radio, I say, “Delphi, hang tight. Firefighter Greene approaching the structure. Repeat, firefighter approaching—no, fuck,enteringthe goddamn structure on the western side,” I correct as I watch Greene kick through the exterior door.
“Do not—!” Robbie yells, but it’s too late to stop the probie.
Or me.
I’m already running after Greene, checking my regulator as my mind splits between utterfuryat this reckless kid and muscle memory taking over. I will be angry—so fucking angry—at him later, but I can’t let him die tonight.
As I reach the door, I catch a glimpse of Robbie across the scene. He’s looking right at me, and even across fifty yards of chaos, even through my face shield andhisface shield, I see his eyes are wide and terrified, and he’s shaking his headno.
I’m sorry, I tell him mentally, wishing for once that hecouldpeer into my brain so he’d hear.I’m so sorry for worrying you.
Then I’m diving through the door into smoke so thick it swallows the beam from my helmet light. I can’t see a hand in front of my face, let alone fucking Greene. The heat is unbelievable, even through my turnout gear. The structure groans around us, timbers creaking and crackling and popping.
“Greene,” I shout into my radio. I can hear my ownheavy breathing through my regulator. “Greene, where the fuck are you? Get out now.”
“No way! I heard something, dude. Someone’s banging,” Greene calls. “I went left, near the stairs?—”
“Ames!” Robbie’s panicked voice breaks through the radio. “Status!”
A crash sounds somewhere deeper in the building—metal screaming, glass popping—followed by a violent shudder under my boots. The floor jumps like it’s trying to buck me off.
“Get out, Greene!” I scream. “I’m telling you, the only idiots in this building are you and me! The ceiling’s coming down!Get out!”
“I can’t see the door!” Greene yells back, his voice warped and distant, swallowed by smoke and sirens and the roar of the fire. “Where?—?”
“I’ve got eyes on Greene!” Hugh yells, but I can’t tell if he’s inside or outside. “Head for the window, kid!”
I spin, searching for Greene or Hugh or the damn window, but everything’s gray and brown and moving wrong.
The smoke isn’t rising anymore; it’srollingnow—thick and fast and low. My light barely cuts through it.
Then I hear a deep, groaning creak overhead like wood complaining. Like steel warping. It’s an unmistakable warning sign every firefighter learns to fear early on.
The building shifts like a tree in the wind—no,worse, like a ship caught broadside in a storm. I can feel the pressure change in my ears.
“Everyone, out! It’s coming down!” I shout into the radio, but the words barely make it past my lips when the wall beside me buckles.
Sheetrock explodes at me, and a massive slab clips me across the chest hard enough to knock the breath clean out of my lungs. I hit the floor on my back, the impact driving my tank into my spine and knocking my helmet askew, just as something else crashes down mere inches from me.
My air alarm starts screaming.
I try to suck in a breath, but the regulator’s not responding right, maybe knocked loose from my fall. My chest burns where the debris hit me, and my limbs feel slow and heavy.
“Ames! Ames, answer me, damn it!”
Robbie’s voice comes through the radio sharp and raw. He sounds?—
God,god, he sounds terrified. I’ve never heard Robbie this out-of-control scared. Not in eleven years on the job. Not once.
I reach for my radio, fingers clumsy in my gloves, but my arm shakes and won’t respond right. My body won’t do what I tell it to.
