Page 126 of Burn

“I’m serious, Caleb.” He nods, trying to reassure me, sweat streaming down his blackened face under his mask. When I don’t move, he says it again, this time sterner. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

I hesitate, desperately trying to make the right decision, knowing we have one chance at this.

“I’mnotleaving you.” My SCBA tank alarms, a vibration jerking me out of my thoughts. I have three minutes of air left and if I take this mask off, I’m dead. I think that’s when I wake up and realize how bad this has gotten. If we don’t get out, we’re both dying in here. “We need to go. Let’s just get out of here,” I say, grabbing hold of him. “I got you.”

The look of uncertainty in his eyes is something I’ll never forget.

“Go!” he says, pushing me forward and steadying himself against the wall again as we move slowly.

Before I can question him, or protest that we stay together, I hear the screaming behind me. There’s a boy at my feet under melting plastic grates. The plastic is on his skin, burning where the fire wasn’t. Beside him, another boy, this one’s older, and more than likely dead.

Something jolts inside of me, like I’ve been electrocuted. I can’t even explain what it is either, but I see these images and they have nothing to do what’s before us. I think I’m hallucinating from the smoke but this kid, he looks like me when I was little, and the boy next to him, the one holding his hand, he looks like my older brother who died . . .

No, it’s just the smoke. I’m not seeing this. Can’t be.

But Iam.

Evan grabs the younger boy and I grab the older one. He’s succumbed to the smoke but I’m still not leaving him.

Cap comes over the radios, a jumble of static, and then we hear, “I want you all out of that goddamn building right now! Evacuate now!”

We move as quickly as we can, knowing we don’t have time.

We find the stairs on four where fire’s rooted in rooms, running down both sides of the narrow hallway. Crews are in there, in position a few feet down the hall, between two doors, one on the left and one on the right that opens up into smalls rooms howling with flames, fire so dense it appears solid like a wall. They pivot to the right and open the flow, hundreds of gallons a minute pouring into the room, a torrent that takes four guys to control. They move the nozzle in a pattern, sweeping it up and down, washing the entire room with cold water.

Finally, the fire cools, blacks out, the hot orange replaced by heavy smoke. The guys on the pipe yell to us, “Go left and down the next hallway. There’s a set of stairs!”

My tanks nearly out of air and I turn left. Then, behind us, there’s a rush of boiling heat and the fast, deep whoosh of an explosion. The room ignites again, the smoke catching fire from the smoldering heat.

No one could have predicted what’s about to happen, but we see it happening right before our eyes.

To my right, there’s a flicker through the smoke, then another, a brighter deep-yellow glow.

This is bad. I glance at Evan. We stare at one another.

I’ve read about this, heard guys talk about it, but I’ve certainly never seen this firsthand. I never wanted to. The hiss comes next, a low rumble and a snap like thunder. Evan yells in my direction, words swallowed by the growling that follows.

Our glances linger near the ceiling that has reached ignition temperature.

And then it happens. The orange ball expands, exploding, sending flames biting back at us. I’ve learned when things go wrong, it’s never just one thing. It’s every goddamn thing at once.

The next thing I know, Evan tosses me the boy in his arms right before the floor gives out and the ball of orange swallows the place where he’s standing.

I don’t know how, but I’m outside. That’s the next thing I remember. I don’t remember getting down those final three flights of stairs with those kids in my arms. Maybe I was running off adrenaline, but I don’t know.

“Command to all units . . . evacuate the building immediately! All units, Irepeat, all units evacuate!”

“Nooooo!” I rush to my feet, the kid’s on the ground, paramedics rushing to them. I run toward the building in a sprint, a limping sprint, actually. “Evan’s in there! We have to get him! We can save him!”

Owen physically blocks me, tackling me to the ground, his hands fisting in my jacket, eyes hard. “You can’t! You can’t go back in there.” He knows Evan’s still in there. “We’re not losing you too.”

Losing me too? I should be in there, not Evan.

With more strength than I can fight him with, Owen holds me to the ground and Jay gets to his feet. Apparently, they had both been right behind us and we didn’t know it. They hold me in place as I struggle against both of them, shoving and kicking as I scream for Evan. A plume of black smoke and the thunderous roar of the flames take over the apartment building, and I’m left with the gnawing sense of dread that I left him in there to die.

“Somebody help him! Go! Don’t leave him.” I’m screaming and crying, struggling with all I have. “We don’t leave people!”

Physically, after the first explosion, I’m in no shape to protest, but I do anyway.

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