Page 26 of Burn
It's a flurry of activity as I slip into my gear and shove my bike key in the pocket inside my fireproof coat. I slam my yellow helmet on my head and pull on my oxygen tank with respirator, then make my way towards the front door of the burning building.
My team follows behind me, always at my back. They know I’ll lead them to her heart, just as always. I may be the weird one, the one of us who’s not quite right, but they know the relationship I have with the burning bitch and respect it.
“On three.” I holler to the two guys with the battering ram.
Yanking open the door, with its warped frame, will be impossible, but the glass that hasn’t already blown out is easy to bust through with just a few hits of the large wooden pole. It clatters to the ground as they drop it, backing quickly away from the new opening, expecting a backdraft. It won’t come though, she’s a sneaky bitch this one, retreating right away instead of blasting out her fiery tendrils.
The pebbles of glass crunch under our boots as I lead them through the new opening, scanning the main lobby left and right. It’s a modern building with lots of marble and chrome, which works in our favor. The non-porous materials don’t burn like wood and plaster. They get hot, and can melt at extreme temperatures, but they don’t catch ablaze. That means the bitch is somewhere further inside.
Usually it’s a janitor’s closet, a bathroom, something stupid in these buildings that catches fire. Rarely is it anything structural or electrical, the structures are simply too new. Unless there’s human error, or worse yet, human intent.
The elevator’s doors open and close on their own, the little light above them flashing. The door to the stairwell is ajar, and some pours thickly from the small opening.
“Follow me boys.” I say into the com in my helmet, waving them on with my gloved hand. “She’s this way.”
All the gear on my back is heavy but I haul ass up the stairwell, my feet echoing loudly off the metal steps. The walls are scorched, but they’re not hot, she’s not here. She’s up further, but not much, because her veil of toxic fumes is already thick and powerful.
“Hold up a few steps bro.” Marcus, one of my brothers calls from a few steps down behind me. “Shit man, we’re good, but not Olympic athletes like you.” He laughs, catching up as I pause on the stairs tapping my foot in annoyance at their lesser physical capabilities.
It's not my fault they don’t spend as much time in the gym as I do. Until I met Phoenix, I thought the only things in life that mattered were my work, my bike, and the gym. Now I know all those things are only a means to an end, and the end is her. Doesn’t mean I’m giving any of them up though.
She flashes before my eyes as I continue up the steps, taking them a little slower. I can see her pretty sheer robe, her perky tits, and her angelic smile. She’s beautiful, and pure, but at the same time, she’s got a little of the darkness in her, just like me. Well, maybe not near as much as me. But it’s there. She clean, but she’s filthy too, but the kind of filthy that doesn’t turn me off and make me gag. No, it’s the kind that makes me rock hard in my pants at the most inopportune time. Like now, as I hunt down the bitch that’s taking the guts of the building.
I can hear her voice as I open the door at the third floor, following the trails of smokey marks on the walls to the frame of the opening. I listen as she asks me if I promise to come back, and it sends a chill up my spine. Never before has anyone cared whether or not I came back.
Cooked, I tell ya!
“Fuck.” I murmur to myself as I shoulder my way into the hallway beyond the fireproof door.
Flames burst out of a door on the left, licking at my visor covered face, leaving little soot marks on the clear plastic, and heating my skin. I duck back, banging my tank on the wall behind me, just narrowly avoiding more fire from the other side.
“We have a jumper.” Marcus says behind me, his axe hitting the wall, making a hole in the drywall to vent the room, allowing the flames to recede again and away from me.
“Thanks man.” I say, nodding to him, and grabbing the edge of the open door. “I’m going in, she’s in here. Check the other rooms, make sure everyone’s out.”
With an “Aye” they all filter down the hall, one after the other, opening doors and checking for survivors. If we’re lucky there won’t be anyone left lingering behind. Buildings like this have advanced warning systems, and no one should have remained with as loud and obnoxious as the alarm systems are.
The room beyond the door is a women’s bathroom, with six stalls and fancy marble sinks that line the right wall. The smoke is etching up the walls, feeding from what looks to have originally been a waste can below the sinks. It’s now in the middle of the room, fully aflame, hissing and popping with the heart of the bitch.
“How something so small causes so much damage is insane.” I grunt, kicking in the first stall door, checking for anyone. “Fire Department!” I call out as I kick in the next one, then the next, finding them empty.
The final one, the larger handicapped stall gives some resistance when my booted foot hits the steel door. It’s locked.
“For fuck’s sake. Fire Department. Is anyone in there?” I holler out, ducking as the ceiling gives way behind me, with plaster and tiles landing around me like pieces of hail in a storm, bouncing off my helmet and the floor. “Fire Department. I’m coming in.”
I steady myself, kicking the door in after the third attempt, and it bangs against the wall behind it, shaking and reverberating with a hollow sound in the smoky room. Behind it is what I didn’t want to find, and I curse under my breath looking down at the crumpled form squeezed between the toilet and the wall.
A young woman huddles, unconscious, her head jammed against the tank of the commode, her pale blue eyes half open from the pressure of her face on the porcelain. They’re bloodshot and glazed over as I lift her head by her dark hair, tsking at her, clicking my tongue in annoyance.
“What do we have here?”
Her arm falls down towards the floor, her elbow straightening, showing me the hypodermic needle before it falls from her skin and clatters to the floor empty and used. There are old and new marks on her skinny arm, and a rubber band still clings around her pale skin.
“Really?” I say out loud to her, even though in her intoxicated state she can’t hear a damn thing. “Fucking drugs. I bet it was your hot spoon in that trash can of paper towels that started this huh?”
Leave her, let her burn. She deserves it.
“Do you, baby? Do you deserve to burn? Should you suffer for your transgressions?” I ask her sleeping form, squatting down and brushing her hair away from her face with my gloved hand. “I think he’s right. But I have to do my job too. Can’t let this whole place burn just because of you.”
