Page 40 of Burn Protocol

“Can you move?” My voice is calm and soothing.

She nods, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Please help her,” she begs again, and I find myself nodding.

“I will, but I need you to get off this train and onto the platform right now. Can you do that for me?”

“No, no, I won’t leave her. Please.”

“Cariño,” the woman croaks weakly. “Listen to her. Get out. Help is here now. Get to safety.”

The woman stares at her mother, her eyes large and wet. I swallow, but place my hand against the small of her back. I guide her softly forward, toward one of the open doors. She protests, glancing over her shoulder once again. Only the determined nod from her mother convinces her otherwise. My heart sinks into my stomach as she exits the train. I push the feeling aside and make my way over to the older woman. Her eyes are warm and gentle, like my own mother’s.

“Hi, I’m Elena,” I find myself whispering.

“Hola, chica, soy Marta,” she whispers back, her voice broken on the words.

My eyes scan her body. Her arm is broken, and there is a bloom of blood on her shirt. I gently lift the fabric. There is a piece of glass sticking out of the soft flesh. The flow of blood seems to have stopped for now, though.

“Marta,” I ask her, “do you think you can hold on a little longer?”

“Sí,” she croaks back. “Take care of those who need it first.”

“You’re a caregiver.” It’s not really a question.

Her smile, though weak, is bright.

“A nurse at De Bellvitge. My daughter just came to pick me up from work.”

I nod. She understands triage, safety. That’s why she didn’t hesitate to send the woman away. I attach a yellow tag around her wrist and nod again. She grabs my arm and squeezes lightly. Nothing about today will be easy—we both know it.

I pick at the cuticles of my fingernails while I stare at the southern exit Elena disappeared into a little under twenty minutes ago. Their airtime is almost up, and I have no idea what will happen if it runs out. Will they have to remove their masks and inhale all that toxic smoke? The thought frightens me, especially after all that she taught me about the pollution and cancer risks. Do they carry a spare tank? I have never noticed one, so no. When their air is up, it’s up. Please, Elena, hurry.

I wince when I tear the strip of skin back too far and my finger starts bleeding. I drop my hands in my lap and sigh, but my fingers find each other again and start fidgeting.

Just as I am about to exit the rig and walk to the command center, I see three familiar silhouettes appear from the smoke. My heart leaps and I suck in a sharp breath. She is alright. Right? Elena knows what she is doing. This is her job! I scold myself but the tears brim at my eyes regardless. My lip trembles when they make their way toward me.

In the background I see another crew rushing inside, and more people coming out on stretchers. It only takes me a second to realize that it means that Elena will have to go back in. Of course she does. Dozens of people are hurt, sitting on the sidewalks, being treated by EMTs, walking around dazed and confused. There must be multiple victims still inside.

Elena removes her tank on her way to the rig and jumps in without a word. She tosses it in the compartment and grabs a new one. Her movements are rapid and sharp. Díaz and Rivera follow shortly after. The sweat is dripping from their foreheads and their chests are heaving, but Elena isn’t pausing. As soon as the new tank is installed, she turns on her heels and moves toward the door. In passing, she gives me a quick glance and my breath hitches. She seems to smirk before she jumps out of the rig.

“You’re going back in?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop myself and I curse inwardly.

She just glances briefly over her shoulder and nods. They don’t stop to catch their breath, or even have a sip of water. The three of them stride over with their purposeful steps and disappear underground again. My heart pounds even faster now.

Only ten minutes after Elena went back in, the other crew is already coming up for air. I blink because they couldn’t have been inside the station for longer than fifteen minutes. I scoot closer to the edge of the engine and observe them. Two EMTs pass around bottles of water as the firefighters replace their tanks. One of them walks over to the command post and talks to the Chief for a few brief moments, before casually returning to his team. He gathers his crew and seems to speak a few words with them, before they all check their meters and walk back to the exit. The palms of my hands itch as I see how long they take to get there. There is no urgency in their movements, as if this is not one of the biggest disasters to hit Barcelona this decade.

But not much later, another crew emerges, walking calmly too. I recognize Torres from the station and raise my eyebrow as he walks toward Ladder 1. He winks at me in passing and I bite my lip. I am tempted to get out and ask him what this is all about. Do it, Maya. But if I do, I’ll go against Elena’s direct orders.

Right as I want to move, I see the trio emerge again. Steam curls from their jackets, their uniforms covered in soot. They walk just as fast as they did before, as if they haven’t spent another twenty minutes underground doing God knows what. It almost feels like déjà vu when Elena yanks the empty tank free before jumping into the engine with a swift motion. She slams it into the compartment, almost violently, before twisting a new one in. Behind her Díaz puts his hands to his knees for a second, but straightens as soon as she turns on her heels. She tightens the straps of her gear and glances at me again. I can see how the sweat traces lines down her temples, and how her lips are chapped. But she curves them into that infuriating half smile of hers before marching out. Again.

On their way back, she waves away the EMT who tries to hand them water bottles, and my heart stops. Elena is the most driven person that I know, and she would do everything in order to save others. But this doesn’t seem healthy.

I glance outside the rig at Ladder 1 and make a decision that might cost me. Elena just means too much to me to let it go.

Torres frowns as he sees me coming, his hand already halfway raised in warning, when I stop at a good enough distance. I have no need to be covered in those small particles and take a forced shower at the station. Thanks, but no thanks.

“Everything okay there, rookie?” He teases playfully, but his eyes flash with concern.