Page 16 of The Fire Between Us

"Sir, I—"

"You turned over your victim to Lewis without authorization and compromised our operational integrity," he continues, voice low but intense. "We'll discuss this later. For now, get back to your assignment."

"Yes, sir," I reply, properly chastened but not regretting my actions for a second. I steal one more glance at Jennie, who's looking back at me from beneath the oxygen mask, her eyes wide and questioning.

"She'll be okay," Sarah assures me, seeing my concern. "Oxygen's already helping. Go do your job, Max."

I rejoin Lewis, who gives me a look that's equal parts relief and exasperation.

"She okay?" he asks as we advance a hose line toward the main structure.

"Yeah," I reply. "Baby wasn't with her. She's getting oxygen now."

"Good," Lewis says. "Now can you focus on not getting us killed?"

I nod, forcing myself to compartmentalize. The fire still needs to be fought. The incident commander's orders still need to be followed. Even if all I want to do is go back and make sure Jennie is truly okay.

Together, Lewis and I work our way into position to attack the main body of fire, now concentrated in the attic space of Mrs. Beaumont's house. The interior attack is challenging but straightforward—the fire has consumed most of the kitchen and is racing along ceiling joists.

Time compresses in that familiar way during a working fire. Minutes blend together in a focused state of hyperawareness—monitoring conditions, watching for structural changes, maintaining situational awareness while executing the attack.

We're making progress, knocking down the main body of fire, when I hear Brock's voice over the radio: "All personnel, be advised of partial roof collapse possible. Lewis, Davidson, report conditions."

Lewis keys his radio. "Fire darkening down in kitchen. Heavy involvement in attic space. Ceiling beginning to sag."

"Two more minutes, then withdraw for exterior attack," Brock orders.

We press forward, directing our stream upward where flames are still visible through what's left of the kitchen ceiling. The water turns to steam as it hits the superheated surfaces, temporarily worsening visibility but effectively cooling the fire.

A sudden cracking sound above us triggers our training.

"Move!" Lewis shouts, and we both lunge backward as a section of ceiling gives way, burning debris crashing into the floor where we'd been standing seconds before.

"Interior team, evacuate now," Brock commands through the radio. "Repeat, evacuate now."

We don't need to be told twice. Backing out the way we came, we maintain our hose line until we reach the front door, then emerge into daylight again, breathing hard through our masks.

Outside, the scene has evolved. A second engine from the neighboring town has arrived to assist, and Ollis is directing their crew to set up a defensive position to protect the cottage and adjacent properties. Grant is operating the deck gun from our engine, sending a powerful stream of water through what's left of the kitchen window.

As Lewis and I clear the structure, Brock approaches. "Good work. Fire's still active in the attic, but we'll knock it down from outside. Get fresh air bottles and stand by."

I remove my mask, wiping sweat from my face, then immediately look toward the ambulance where I left Jennie. She's sitting up now, oxygen mask still in place, but her color looks better.

"Go," Brock says, surprising me. "Two minutes. Then I need you back here for overhaul."

"Sir?"

"Go check on her," he clarifies, his tone gruff but not unkind. "Two minutes, Davidson."

"Thank you, sir."

I jog over to the ambulance, conscious of my sooty gear and the smell of smoke that clings to me. Jennie's eyes widen as I approach, and she tries to remove the oxygen mask.

"No, keep that on," I say quickly, reaching the side of the gurney. "Don't try to talk. Just focus on breathing."

She ignores me, pulling the mask down slightly.

"You came for me," she says, her voice raspy from the smoke.

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