Finally, I feel the weight of the drywall being lifted from my body. When it's free, Smith makes a grab for the boy I'm cradling. "I got him," I tell him as I slowly start to stand.
"You just took drywall to the head, Stevens. Let me carry the boy out," he demands.
"No, I've got him," I insist as we, again, make our way out of the apartment, my iron-tight grip on the child.
My legs carry me down the stairs and out of the burning building completely on their own. Smith radios a status update and our moving positions to the crew on the ground. My eyes remain focused on the path ahead of us, and the boy in my arms. Almost there.
Paramedics are waiting for us on the front lawn of the building. They have two gurneys and a backboard positioned just far enough to be protected from the burning building.
I set the young boy down on the first gurney I get to. His eyes never leave mine. A woman runs up to the boy, hysterically crying and shaking. Two paramedics get to work on the child, placing an oxygen mask on his small face. His breathing is labored, but considering he was in a burning building, he's not doing too badly.
I rip my mask off my face as the other two paramedics descend on me, but I try to push them back. I need to know how the boy is doing. That's my focus right now.
"Don't make me tie you down, Stevens," Chief Hernandez says from behind me. "They have to check you out. Protocol," he adds firmly.
I concede and sit down on the second gurney so that I'm facing the little boy. As the female paramedic slips the oxygen mask on my face, the boy next to me holds up his small hand. I take it inside of my gloved hand and just hold it there. Around us, people hustle and bustle to prepare the child for transfer to the hospital. The other paramedic starts pressing around on the top of my skull, causing a wince at the tender spot where the drywall crashed down on my helmet.
"You should go to the hospital and have it checked out," he reports.
"I'm good. Make sure this kid gets what treatment he needs," I tell them.
"He will, Nate," Chief says with a firm squeeze of the hand he places on my shoulder. "Let the guys do their job here so you can be on your way," he adds.
The sun is out and has been for awhile. The boy is strapped in for transfer so I give his small hand one gentle squeeze. "You're going to go for a ride in the ambulance, little man. Can you be a big, strong boy for me?" I ask.
The boy shakes his head up and down and continues to watch me with those big, blue eyes. His hand is still firmly tucked inside of mine. My heart does this weird lurch in my chest. He reminds me of my nephew, Grant. He puts all of his trust into me and I'd do anything I can to protect him.
"What's your name, little man?" I ask.
His voice is hoarse and dry as he speaks, barely louder than a whisper. "Nathan."
I smile down at the little guy next to me. "Well, my name is Nathan, too," I tell the boy. He gives me a huge, toothy smile. "I'll tell you what, Nathan. You go in that ambulance with these people, and I'll come see you in the hospital very soon. Okay?"
Nathan shakes his head vigorously up and down as the same smile continues to wash over me. I watch as he is wheeled away from me and hoisted up into the awaiting ambulance. His mother leaps up into the rig before the doors are closed and they speed away towards the hospital.
"You need to have it checked out," the male paramedic states.
"No I don't," I reply.
"No arguments, Stevens. You know you have to go get checked out before you can report back to the station," Chief Hernandez states.
I concede again and lie back on the gurney as they strap me down. Once inside the rig, I'm hooked up to all sorts of wires and tubes. The female paramedic inserts the IV into my hand as I close my eyes, taking in all of the events of the past few hours. I think about the little boy whose life we saved today. I think about the close call I was in, again. And then I think of Lia. Her sitting at home or at work, oblivious that anything is even happening to me. We could be happily married one, two, or ten years from now. I could have easily not made it out of that building. She could be sitting there, rocking our child to sleep, when they arrive to tell her that her husband isn't coming home.
And that's why a future with Lia can't happen. As much as I try to fight it, I care too much for her to hurt her this way. She deserves to be happily married with a child or two of her own. A child similar to little Nathan.
My chest aches as I picture Lia walking down the aisle towards a man that isn't me. I picture Lia pregnant with a child that isn't mine. I picture her old and gray as she sits in a damn rocking chair on a front porch, sipping a glass of lemonade, and holding a hand that doesn't belong to me.
Fuck, my subconscious is a cruel bastard.
I squeeze my eyes shut and will the unwanted images out of my head. The rig slows down and I feel the sharp turn to the left and into the hospital's Emergency Room entrance. The doors open and the awaiting medical staff all jump to action. I'm wheeled into a small, curtained room and evaluated. I answer the questions as the doctor goes about shining the light in my eyes and checking me over. "I want to get a CT Scan just to rule out a concussion, but I think you're good, Mr. Stevens," the attending physician states.
I'm taken straight down to X-Ray and bypass the few waiting patients. That's the thing I've noticed is that emergency personnel and first responders tend to get priority for examinations like this. It sucks, but what can I do?
Fortunately, the scan doesn't take too long and I'm wheeled back to the Emergency Room. Chief Hernandez is waiting in the little room and gives me a friendly wave as I'm brought back in.
"Any word on the boy?" I ask.
"He's going to be fine. You saved his life, Stevens."
"I just did what any one of you would have done, sir."
"True, but you ran back into that building before the report was even finished coming over the speaker, without a second thought or glance back. You're a good man and a damn fine firefighter," he says.
The doctor that checked me out earlier comes into the room. "Everything came back clear on the scan, Mr. Stevens," he tells me as he looks over the papers in his hand.
"Can I get out of here?" I ask, anxious to go see Nathan.
"Yes. The nurse is working on your release papers now. Here are your discharge orders. Rest for the next forty-eight hours and then you can resume normal activity," he tells me as he hands me the stack of papers in his hand.
"Done," I tell him, already throwing my legs over the side of the bed.
"Take it easy and if you experience any dizziness or pain, please come back in as soon as possible," he states before exiting the room.
"What room is Nathan in?" I ask as I wait for the nurse.
"208 in the pediatric wing," Chief says. I know that wing all too well. My niece, Bean, was a patient for four days almost two years ago, due to pneumonia. Those first two days were the scariest damned days of my life.
As soon as the nurse comes in and I throw my chicken-scratched name across the form, I take off towards the elevator. Chief hangs with me, apparently accompanying me to the room. Then it hits me that I don't have a ride, and the realization that Chief is stuck here with me until I decide to leave settles over me.
I spend the next hour with Nathan in his brightly colored room, playing with the matchbox cars I picked up at the gift shop that I walked by. His mother hugged me no less than a dozen times and followed each hug up with a big, "thank you." The nursing staff is in and out of his room and assure his mother - and me - that the young boy will make a complete recovery. They are keeping him overnight due to the smoke inhalation, but anticipate that he'll be going home - or going to his grandmother's house - sometime tomorrow.
When the clock on the wall reads eleven-thirty and my eyelids are barely able to stay open, Chief and I leave the room and head towards the elevator. I was supposed to be off at six this morning and my tired mind wanders back to Lia. I missed seeing her this morning. I enjoy the hour or so I hang back while she opens the bakery and serves the early morning customers. I love to sit along the back counter and watch as she interacts and laughs with the town folk. Now, by the time I get back to the station, clean up, and head for home, it's going to be early afternoon.
When I got back to the station, my team was waiting for me. We bullshitted about the fire and they asked about my trip to the hospital and the status of Nathan, so it is even later than I thought it would be when I finally got on the road after the world's fastest shower. The drive back to Rivers Edge seems to be the longest I've ever experienced. And the lukewarm too-strong coffee from the station just isn't cutting it any longer. When I hit the "Welcome to Rivers Edge" sign on the edge of town, it was the first time I really took a deep breath since I entered that burning building.