Page 87 of Protecting What's Mine
“I need a ladder team on the east side third floor,” Linc radioed.
There was a rumble from inside the building that he felt under his feet on the street.
“Someone tell me what the fuck that was,” he called.
“Fuck. Chief. The stairs just went. We’re all fine, mostly, but we’re still on the third west side. No way out,” Kelly reported in.
“Hang tight, Wu. We’re coming to get you.”
Linc waved over one of the volunteers and shrugged into his turnout coat. Sam was a twenty-five-year veteran with the department and, thanks to a bum knee, was relegated to non-rescue work.
“What’s up, chief?”
“Got a team trapped on the third west side, possible minor injuries. And a potential entrapment on third east. Call second alarm. Get the Baylorsville company in here,” Linc ordered, handing the man the radio’s handset. “We need a ladder team over to the west side now.”
It was protocol. Firefighters got rescued first. Otherwise, no one got rescued. But he trusted his team, and he was another able body already geared up.
He dodged the ladder truck as it maneuvered itself around the building and saw Skyler wave to the driver from the open third-floor window.
Linc jogged back to the engine and grabbed his SCBA. He threw the bottle on and was on the move in a second. Still strapping on the tank, he caught up to his second engine. The weight of it felt familiar, reassuring.
“We getting you up to the third?” the driver guessed.
“Yeah. Possible entrapment.”
He didn’t see quite as much action as he once had. Being chief carried other responsibilities. But when he got the chance, he took it.
The call for the second alarm went out over the radio. “Dispatch from Chestnut Street Command, take me to the second alarm,” Sam said.
The fire escape in the back was a definite no-go. Supports were rusted through, and it had pulled completely out of the brick on the third floor.
A scant minute later, the engine crew had the ladder propped against the front of the building away from the flames. He climbed carefully, steadily up three floors to the unit’s large front window. He felt the sway of the ladder as a man climbed behind him.
“This is chief to command. About to VES third floor unit east side. Visibility limited.” The smoke was already thick as fog inside. And it was the smoke that posed the real danger.
“Be careful up there,” came Sam’s cautionary warning over the radio.
Linc heard it then. Faintly over the crackle of flames, more sirens. The bark of a dog.
Training and experience were his guides. Vent. Enter. Search. He slipped the breaker from his pocket and, with a sharp blow, shattered the glass.
“Anyone here?” he shouted into the room as he cleared the window frame. Smoke billowed out the window, obscuring his vision. But there was the bark of a dog again. More insistent. More helpless.
“Chief Reed entering the structure third floor east side for search and rescue,” he said into the radio.
He dropped over the sill and hunched down. It was a small, boxy living room with a cheap sofa that was a minute or two from going up in flames. Those beautiful red and orange licks teased their way through the far wall, entering the apartment like ghosts from hell.
Training dictated that responders clear rooms on their hands and knees, keeping their heads out of the noxious smoke. But when the opportunity allowed, Linc stayed on his feet, moving and clearing faster.
The bark was a lonely howl now from the back of the apartment.
“Front room clear,” he said for the benefit of the firefighter at the top of the ladder.
He picked his way over worn carpet into a kitchen. It was hot enough that the linoleum was peeling. The smoke was even thicker here. If there was anyone or anything alive inside, they were living on borrowed time.
He listened to the radio chatter. His search and rescue crew was out, safe and switching to hose lines. The rest of the apartments in the building had been cleared. More units were stacking up on the scene.
The bedrooms, three of them, bumped off a skinny hallway. He kicked open the first door and swept quickly. One double bed. A crib. Both empty. Thank fuck. He checked the closet and under the bed before moving back into the hallway. The second bedroom was empty as well. He gave the third door a shove, dropping to his knees now. Inside, he found a wet towel on the floor. It had provided a seam to block the smoke until he’d opened the door.
