Before he could speak, the Chief said, “We’re moving out.” He quelled the rumble of protest with barely a look. “We’re going. Gear up. Move out. Rory – we’ll follow your lead.”
As the others jogged out of the room , the Chief caught him by the elbow. Rory barely restrained his snarl – he could still hear her screaming in his head.
“You’d better be right about this. You challenged my authority, son.” He wasn’t angry. He sounded sad. Worried.
“I’m right, Chief,” Rory said. “I promise you, we’re going to save a life.” Then he lost his restraint again. “If we fuckingmove!”
Sirens howled as they barrelled towards the fire – if there was a fire. Sweating inside his turnout jacket, Rory wondered if maybe his team-mates were right and it was all in his head. Despite the Chief’s order, they were casting some pretty hostile glances at him. He couldn’t blame them. If one of the others had done the same thing – especially shifting like that and trying to face down the Chief – he’d assume they were nuts too.
But as they got closer to Serenity, a little town on the way to Chicago, hardly a blip on the map but where most of their call-outs came from, everybody saw it.
There was a glow on the horizon. Therewasa fire.
But the voice in Rory’s head had gone quiet.
