Page 2 of Branded

The shrill cry is coming from upstairs. It’s loud and scared then followed by multiple coughs.

“Clear the bottom rooms!” I tell my partner behind me, pointing to the other side of the house that is still reachable. “I’m going up.”

“This place is going to go, man. In. Clear. Out,” he repeats to me. “We have to hurry.”

“Clear it and go. I have to go up!”

A scream cries out from upstairs again, followed by repeated banging. My feet begin to move of their own volition, climbing the stairs two at a time, even with the extra seventy-five pounds strapped to me in the form of air and equipment.

With each step toward the second floor, the air is thicker, hotter, and more miserable. The paint on the walls is peeling and the carpet is caked in black soot. I can see what the home used to be in small sections that the fire has mysteriously avoided. A photo hanging on the wall, and a piece of clothing tossed over the railing of the stairs. Signs of life that once was, before tonight.

“SFD!” I call out. “Is anyone up here?” I shout into the ether, knowing the answer, but I just need to know where to go.

“Help him! Please! He won’t answer me!”

The panicked cries are coming from my right, so I burst into action.

At the far end of the hall, I can make out the shape of someone, a woman I think, based on the voice, banging and kicking on a door.

“Jason! Open the door! Get up! Talk to me!” She is frantic, trying to scream between coughs. If she is in here, breathing in the smoke much longer, she won’t make it. I’ve seen people collapse from far less time trapped in the smoke.

“Ma’am!” I touch her arm. “Come on! I need to get you out of here. You can’t be in here.”

She yanks her arm out of my reach. “Don’t touch me. My brother is in there! I can’t get him to wake up! The door is locked. He isn’t saying anything.” She turns away from me and starts beating on the door again.

“Martinez!” I shout out, hoping he can hear me downstairs. “I have someone! Come get her out. She says there’s someone else in here. Unresponsive.”

“No! I’m not leaving this house without him. Don’t you dare try to make me.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, this house is going to collapse any second now! Unless you intend on dying here, you need to get the fuck out!”

I can hear the cracking of wood in portions of the house that we can’t see; telling me the framing is giving in to the flames. Unless we move soon, we are all gone.

“I don’t…” She coughs harshly. It’s deep and guttural, and she reaches out to brace herself on the wall. “I don’t care. He’s just a kid.”

“Whoa.” I reach out and grab her before she loses her balance. “He’s a kid? How old?”

“Seventeen.”

I look at the door, assess as quickly as I can, then make the decision to try to break it down.

She isn’t going to let me take her down first, and frankly, there is no time.

“I need you to lay on the ground, as flat as you can. You need to be away from the smoke.”

“Just get him,” she says, lowering herself to the ground, her eyes are glazed and she’s wobbly, gasping for some kind of clean air.

“Martinez! Get the fuck up here!”

I can hear him climbing the stairs as I look at the door, making the call in a split second to kick the center as hard as I can.

With each connection my foot makes with the door, the framing above begins to crack and it grows larger, spreading down the hallway.

“Goddamn.” I hear Martinez behind me. “How many do we have?”

“Just the one on the floor and she says there is a seventeen-year-old in this room. Locked door. Get her out. I’m getting the kid.”

“No!” she says, trying to scramble to her feet, but she collapses back onto her knees. The smoke inhalation slowly taking its toll.

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