Page 76 of Burn

Most firefighters know the risk versus reward scenario of our jobs. If we can save a life, we put ourselves at risk. I never think of it in terms of what I would be willing to do to save someone’s life. It’s more like, if that person has a chance to live, then I’m going to make an effort to save them.

Now, if it’s too dangerous, let’s say a well-involved building that might be 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit, well, then, no one could survive that. There’s no sense in going in.

If the upper floor of a home has smoke so thick and brown, and we had to get through that to save them, they wouldn’t be alive.

Most people don’t realize that smoke will kill you just as quickly as flames can.

Back inside, Owen’s got the male victim and is taking him down the stairs when command comes through. “Where’s Finn?”

“Fuck if I know,” I tell them, pissed he hasn’t stayed with us.

And just as I radio that in, a portion of the stairs gives way to the fire and collapses.

I find Finn as I floor surf second floor to the first. Turns out he was underneath me.

Fire is a living, breathing thing. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be. Fire has this funny way of making you think you’re in control, and then suddenly, and usually without warning, it comes back to bite you.

“You guys all right?” Cap asks.

I reach across my body, moaning in pain into my radio. “Never better.”

Once I have my head around my dive to the lower floor, I can hear the whistle of Finn’s PASS device and the hiss of his breathing apparatus. “Where the fuck are you, probie?”

“In the basement,” he says, words punctuated by the shaking in his voice.

Must have been the first time he’s floor surfed. Not mine.

Flopping over onto my stomach, I look over the edge of the floor where it’s collapsed. “Hey, you. Need some help?”

He smiles as if he can’t wait to get out of here and never come back.

We’ve just gotten back outside to the staging area when I see the woman I brought out first being transported, but she appears to be breathing now.

I smile. I saved one today.

“What’s that smell?” Owen takes a towel and wipes sweat from his face and glances over at Finn.

“Nothing.” Finn won’t lift his eyes from the pavement. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Bullshit. It’s you.” Owen gags and puts his mask back on. “My nose is full of soot, and it’s not even making a difference here. You stink.”

“Take it back.” Finn shoves him, and the two of them collide into me, pinning me to the side of the truck. I nearly throw up because the motion of Finn shoving Owen causes whatever has died in his pants to stir, and the smell gets stronger.

“Probie shit his pants when he fell through the floor,” Owen says, shaking his head with a smile.

It smells horrible. Reaching down, I put my own mask back on.

Owen smacks me on the chest. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“I never bet you shit, asshole.”

“Yes, you did. Last week we said when Probie got his first fire, he’d shit himself.” He holds out his hand, as if I have money in my turnout gear.

“I’m vulnerable.” I shove Owen away and into Finn. “I just fell through two floors. Don’t be a dick.”

Evan walks up to us, smacking my shoulder. “Stop fucking around, assholes, and begin ventilation.”

There goes our fun for the afternoon.

---