Page 26 of Backdraft
If it was a fatal fire, Taylor and I would be crossing paths sooner than expected. A thrill of anticipation rippled through me. A clear indication that I did want to see him again.
Fifty-five minutes later, I pulled up to the building. It was still smoking and had hot spots.
I parked in front of the home. Firefighters usually made room for me so that my equipment was close to the scene. I was also thankful, because then it would be harder for anyone to try and steal items out of my truck.
I got out, and the captain came to greet me. She kept one eye on her fire crew while she talked.
"I guess the scene is yours now," she stated matter-of-factly, which wasn't really a question.
"I guess it is. Is there anything I need to know?" I asked.
She had her hand resting on the mic attached to the left side of her chest. She stood with a wide stance and stared at the house.
"It's abandoned and was scheduled for a demo years ago, just never been done. Sometimes the homeless get inside and there’s drugs and squatting. We're not sure what set it off, but there are areas that look like MacGyver’d fire pits or stoves."
I nodded and followed her gaze. I wasn't really surprised to hear this.
"So far, no bodies have been discovered. My guess is when the fire started, they fled the building.”
“Got it. I’m Andrea Trask. Drea."
She faced me and stuck out her hand "Nancy Crane. Nice to see a woman on the job." She smiled.
"Thanks. Glad to be here. Is the fire out?"
"It is. There are a few hot spots, and the structure is a bit iffy, so you'll have to be careful."
"Okay, thanks."
Her mic keyed up, and I turned away to finish getting my gear on while she answered.
"Drea, before you go in, it looks like there's asbestos in the building, so you'll have to be gowned and taped up. One of the crew will get you all set and have to come in with you. Hazmat is on the way as well."
"Right." Damn, being completely sealed up on a warm day would make this investigation a nightmare.
At the pumper, I waited while my wrists and ankles were taped so no asbestos could filter in. I had a mask on, and the hood was taped to it.
The firefighter double-checked everything, and I was ready to go. I didn't wear SCBA–self-contained breathing apparatus—because I'm not trained on it. After getting the layout of the building, I went inside. I swung my flashlight back and forth and switched on my helmet light. Hands-free is good, and I stowed the torch on my belt.
The place looked abandoned. No doubt about it. I worked my way through the rooms on the main floor. Nothing jumped out at me. However, I remained open-minded. There was a second level, and the fire crew said to stick to the wall going up and down the stairs, even though the fire had not progressed as far as the stairs. I climbed them with care.
Upstairs were more flop rooms with mattresses on the floor, garbage strewn about, and the makings of very unsafe cooking and heating tools.
Random cigarette butts littered the floor and could have easily started a fire. At the end of the hall, I opened a door that likely led to the attic.
This side of the building wasn't as damaged as the other side, but it was still charred and had water damage and smoke stains. It was obvious the fire had some impact here, but luckily enough, it was put out before it went up like a tinderbox.
I still had to go up to the attic. It was also littered with stained mattresses, moth-eaten sleeping bags, garbage, takeout boxes, drug paraphernalia, and booze bottles. The ceiling was coming down, likely from when the roof was ventilated, and insulation hung in wet hanks through the opening and in a pile on one of the mattresses.
Time to back out of here. I pointed to the ceiling, and the firefighter accompanying me nodded.
I'd finish my cursory first run through and it was time to head down into the basement.
Back on the main floor, it was clear the one side of the house was where the fire started. I looked for the entrance to the basement. The door was off its hinges and smoke still billowed up the stairs.
I followed the firefighter down the rickety steps. It was even warmer down here, and I was sweating. My Tyvek suit stuck to my skin. I checked the taping on my wrists to see if the sweat had loosened the seal. I was good for a bit longer.
I didn't want to admit to myself I was overheating. I couldn't give in to it because then I risked being labeled as unfit. Unworthy of the job.
