Between waves I catch sight of him.
Davey’s wide eyes are stuck on the hand on the other end of the pole. The hook before the point has hooked through the center of his glove. Through his hand.
Oh fuck.
FUCK.
My trembling fingers grab for the radio. “Fi—firefighter down. MAN DOWN!”
Slowly, I squat, setting my pole down before I lay on the roof to spread my weight. Waving at the steam and smoke I try to get a better visual.
I try to grip the pole, and it slips in my gloves.
Davey screams, his mask fogging up as he dangles helplessly on the hook. The smoke continues to billow past him, searing everything it touches.
“Davey! Hang on, grab the pole with your other hand, come on!”
He passes out, his head lolling to one side.
“No!”
I grab for the pole again, and my gloves slip. Again.
“Fuck!”
The roof groans, and I jerk as fear trickles its ugly heat down my spine. I close a grip around the radio, depressing the button. “Davey is down, I repeat, Davey is dow?—”
The roof under me gives way.
Chapter 27
MILES
Iturn the page and release a bored sigh. Another budget form. Another mind-numbing set of numbers to crunch. I have no idea how Laws does this for a living. It’s a killer.
The numbers start to dance over the page, and I glance at the clock.
03:09
This man needs another Milo.
I wonder what coffee would taste like mixed in?
I can imagine the face Sandy would pull. I chuckle at the thought. Reaching the top step of the internal stairs, I find Cap at the kitchen sink, standing rigid. The guys from Ladder 43 are sitting by the comms in the corner.
“What’s cooking?” I ask, making a beeline for the Milo tin left on the counter by the kettle.
Howard snaps his attention to me briefly. “53’s out on Third Avenue.”
The radio squeals.
Owens is snapping out a request to base for an ambulance.
Nothing new.
Guess it figures, Schmiddy can’t even make his own ambulance calls.
Lazy motherfucker.
