Protect Me (Rivers Edge Book 4)(23)

                       
       
           



       
Fuck. Talk about mixed signals. I want her and I want to push her away  at the same time. Talk about confusion. I can't even decide which  direction I want to go myself, so how in the hell is Lia supposed to  know?

I run my hands through my hair and glance up at the clock on the wall.  Four-fifteen. Almost time for Lia to wake up and get ready for her  morning shift at the bakery. At least I'll be seeing her in a little  over two hours when I stop by for another cup of decaf coffee. I've been  drinking more of it lately. Could be due to Lia's amazing cup o' joe,  or it could be because I just want to see her. Take your pick. I'm  leaning towards the latter.

I should head back into the bunkroom. I hate sleeping on those little  cots, but fatigue is starting to set in. Just when I start to stretch my  arms over my head, standing up to awaken my weary muscles, the familiar  siren sounds. The ear-piercing wail sends me instantly springing to  action. My fellow brothers and sisters wake up and start to pull on  their uniforms, grabbing what equipment they need as we all race towards  the ready trucks.

Chief Hernandez is already standing next to one truck, talking to  dispatch and taking notes. I quickly grab my gear from the stall with my  name above it and move to the truck. Chief hops in the passenger seat  and starts bringing up the address on the small GPS computer screen in  the cab of the truck. Collin Smith jumps in the driver's seat while Ben  Jaskula, Griffin Peterson, Selena Diaz, and I file into the back. We're  pulling out of the open bay before our belts are securely in place.

"Large structure fire on Conkland Drive. We have a twenty unit apartment  building and the fire is no longer contained to the apartment of  origin. Station Six called for backup as soon as it spread to the  adjacent unit and the unit directly above it. No word yet if all the  residents have been evacuated. Station Six was in the process of  clearing the building when the fire jumped and they had to pull back,"  Chief reports in his no-nonsense tone.

"The water rig is going to be positioned at the rear of the building to  help control the spread. We are going in to complete the evac of the  rest of the units," he says. "Keep your eyes open and your ears to the  ground, gang. Everyone comes back safe," he adds as the truck pulls to a  stop behind the blocked-off road.

As soon as the truck is stopped, we all pile out and begin to double  check our equipment. "Ready," I say into my mouth piece as I start to  receive air from the tank at my back. "Ready," follows from the other  five members of my team.

"We have four floors, five units to each floor. The fire is believed to  have started in 302. It is confirmed to 303 and 402 above. Smith and  Jaskula take the first floor. Peterson and Diaz are on the second floor.  Stevens, you're with me on the third. First unit to clear their floor  takes four," Chief Hernandez states.

"10-4," we all reply as we start to make our way into the burning building.

The Chief and I follow Peterson and Diaz up the stairwell. While they  split off at the entrance of the second floor, Chief and I head up  another flight. When we get to the doorway, I take a quick peek through  the small window in the door. I see no flames and no people through the  smoke. I hold up my hand and make a closed fist, signaling that I don't  see anything. I proceed to slowly open the door and am met with nothing  but smoke.

We start with the closest unit, 301. The door is unlocked when I test  the knob. We both stand to the side of the doorway, prepared for the  blast, as I open the door. Nothing.

Chief and I make quick work of checking the apartment. It's clear that  the occupants made it outside. We exit the apartment and head towards  the one across the hall, 302. This door was left open so we quickly slip  inside and give the apartment a quick by thorough check for occupants.  Again, nothing.

Knowing that the blaze has spread to 303, we head there next. The unit's  door is also open so after checking the doorway, we slip inside. The  apartment is filled with smoke. Flames dance along the ceiling in the  kitchen. Chief Hernandez checks the kitchen quickly while I head back to  check the bedrooms. This apartment is larger than the first two we  checked. The master bedroom is cleared quickly so I move onto the  smaller room, which is clearly a child's room. I call out and announce  my presence before I check under the bed and in the closet. Nothing.  After a check of the bathroom and the living room, Chief and I exit the  apartment.

We make quick work of the remaining two apartments on the floor.  Peterson and Diaz have finished their sweep of the second floor so they  make their way up to the fourth floor. Smith and Jaskula finish the  first floor just as quickly so they proceed upward to the fourth floor  to assist on the search. Chief and I make our way outside as we wait for  the other two teams to complete their search. Three water tankers  proceed to dump water through the gaping holes in the side of the  building onto the third and fourth floors.                       
       
           



       

I watch as the remaining four members of my team hurry out of the front  of the building towards the truck. Masks are removed and air is shut off  as they all try to catch their breaths. There is no greater rush.

"Chief, you copy?" I hear from the radio attached to Hernandez's shoulder.

"Copy," he replies.

"Woman is claiming her son didn't make it out. Unit 303," I hear come  from the radio. I am grabbing my mask and slipping it on before I even  have time to process. I am already starting towards the front of the  building when I hear the rest of the report through my helmet. "Subject  is a four year old boy and was last seen in the small bedroom in bed,"  he reports. I run up the front steps of the building, Smith hot on my  heels.

"I checked that room and didn't see anyone," I report into the radio in my helmet as we start to sprint up the stairs.

"We'll find him," Smith says over my shoulder.

We finally get to the doorway of the third floor. The halls are now  filled with thick, rolling smoke and the heat coming from the ceiling  and the third apartment - the apartment we are heading into - is  stifling. We reach the doorway and I check the knob. The paint around  the door is bubbling. Smith and I take our positions along the wall and I  push open the door. Inside, the unit is blazing. The kitchen to the  left is completely engulfed even though the units outside are pumping  water directly through the wall and into the small room. The couch along  the kitchen wall is ablaze with hot flames as we rush around it and  towards the small bedroom in the corner.

There are no flames here, only smoke. Smith and I get to work at  rechecking the room. I check under the bed while Smith tears apart the  closet. No sign of the four-year-old boy.

"I'm going to check the other bedroom," Smith says before he exits the room.

He has to be here. Where are you, kid?

I stand in the center of the room and give it a scan. The ceiling above  me starts to groan, paint bubbling from the heat. We don't have much  time. I continue my scan and my eyes rest on a small, wooden toy box. I  quickly take two steps to the box and gingerly lift the lid. Inside is  the small boy. He's out, but breathing.

"Found the boy," I announce into my radio. I make quick work of gingerly  removing the small child from the confines of his toy box.

Smith is behind me a second later. "We have to go now. The ceiling is caving in," he tells me.

I cradle the child against my chest and follow Smith out of the small  room. We make it to the living room where the creaks and groans of the  stressed structure start to rumble. Pieces of the ceiling start to fall  around us as we make our way through the living room. I hold the boy as  tightly as I can to protect him from the dancing flames and the falling  debris that surround us.

A large piece of drywall breaks away just as I reach the heart of the  living room. The force of the heavy, wet material falling on me sends me  down to my knees. I lean forward to shield the child from the debris  and to safeguard his unprotected body from the flames.

"Stevens!" Smith hollers into the radio just before he starts digging at  the drywall on top of me. It takes him upwards of a minute to get the  piece of debris off of me. I glance down at the child I'm laying on and  see frightened blue eyes staring back at me.

"It's okay, buddy," I tell him, knowing that he can't hear me through my  mask. I soften my eyes and keep them locked on his terrified ones. The  boy never cries like I would expect him to. He just stares up at me with  wide, trusting eyes.