It started out an innocent flicker.
A spark.
A flash.
A baby born to consume all in its path, given the right conditions and the right fuel. Here in its nest, it found both and, protected from predators, it took root and grew.
From spark to flame.
As it grew, it danced--merrily. Swaying hypnotically from side to side. Then up and around and over and through, darting with purpose and glee.
And its whisper grew to a roar.
^*^*^*^
“Station 36, Station 51, Truck 210, structure fire, Beckham Wholesale Foods, 4050 Green Street, cross street East Sepulveda. 4-0-5-0 Green Street, cross street East Sepulveda. Time out – 1:12.”
By the time the dispatcher finished the call, the crew of Station 51 was up, dressed, and running for their vehicles. Captain Stanley detoured to the console.
“Station 51, KMG 365.” His sleep roughened voice acknowledged the call.
He paused long enough to hand Roy DeSoto the slip of paper before racing for the passenger seat on the engine. In one fluid motion, Hank snagged his turnout coat from its hook and slipped into it. The engine was rolling as he closed his door.
Station 51 was second to arrive on scene, two or three minutes behind Station 36. Thick smoke chugged from windows shattered by overwhelming heat. Flames were visible at the back of the building.
Captain Conroy Ellis, now incident commander by virtue of being first on scene, hurriedly approached Hank Stanley. Built like a bull and twice as stubborn as a donkey, Ellis was both liked and hated in equal measures within the department. It all depended on whom you were talking to.
“It’s a big one, Hank. I’ve called for a second alarm. May need a third. My guys are laying line now. We’ll attack from the inside.”
“Anybody in there?”
“Doubtful. It’s abandoned.”
Truck 210 arrived, and Ellis moved away, leaving Hank to return to his men and issue orders. He instructed them to pull two 2-½ inch attack lines and join the crew from 36s.
Johnny grabbed his SCBA from its compartment. After first fastening the buckles on his coat, he yanked the left strap of his air tank over his shoulder.
“Looks like we could be here awhile,” he mumbled.
His partner, who was busy donning his own gear, glanced at Beckham Wholesale Foods. “Yeah, I don’t see any more sleep in our immediate future.”
Having fixed his mask in place, Johnny tightened the chin strap on his helmet.
“Let’s do it.” His voice was muffled behind the mask.
The two paramedics jogged toward the building, preparing to man their designated line. The instructions were to enter the building from one of the two side entrances. As they rounded the corner of the warehouse, Gage was astonished to see a figure emerge from the closest doorway.
“Roy, look!”
Dropping the uncharged hose, they rushed forward. It soon became apparent that it was a young girl ahead of them. Both men pulled off their masks before they reached her.
“Are you all right?” Even as he asked the question, Roy was perusing the girl’s condition. Other than being sooty and disheveled, she appeared to be fine. The only thing of note was a slight cough.
“Wha?”
“Miss, are you all right?” Roy’s voice was more insistent.
“Hey, man, I’m just fine.” The girl startled them by breaking into a fit of giggles. “Fine. Isn’t that such a funny word?”
“Listen,” Johnny broke in, attempting to snag the blonde’s attention, “is there anyone else in there?”
Still giggling and now swaying to and fro, the girl didn’t answer.
“Hey! Is there anyone else in that building?” The dark-haired man pointed to the structure for emphasis as he stepped closer. It was then that he could smell the alcohol. It was strong even over the smoke. Combined with that was another sweet, earthy scent. Marijuana. He glanced over at his partner and mouthed, “Stoned.”
Finally, she stopped laughing and looked at Gage.
“People? Yeah, lotsa people. It’s a groovy party, man.”
A new urgency colored Johnny’s tone. “How many?”
“I dunno. Twenty? Thirty? Lotsa people. Everywhere. Frankie has a lot of friends.”
The paramedics exchanged a quick look before rushing the girl around the building and over to Captain Stanley.
“Cap, we’ve got people in there! Maybe twenty or thirty.” DeSoto’s voice cracked with tension.
Stanley looked down at the girl. “Do you know where they are?”
“N-no. Just somewhere in there,” she made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Maybe the fourth or fifth floor. I came down a lotta stairs. I just . . . just wandered out here to . . . you know . . . pee.” The last word was whispered.
Captain Stanley felt his heart sink. An already difficult situation had just gotten a whole hell of a lot worse.
^*^*^*^
Moments later Johnny and Roy, together with Sal Guilia and Marty Raymour the paramedics with 36s, were entering the building to search for victims instead of manning hose. Ellis had called in a second and third alarm ensuring more manpower was on the way.
Just inside the door, the foursome split up, Guilia and Raymour heading for the stairs in the north corner of the building. They were to begin their search on the fourth floor. Gage and DeSoto were to take the south corner stairwell to the fifth floor.
It grew progressively hotter and smokier as they climbed. Johnny was breathing hard by the time his foot touched the final tread. Beneath his turnouts, his body was drenched in sweat. He paused for a second to get his bearings before looking over at his partner, carefully aiming the flashlight so as not to blind him. Johnny tipped his head to the right and saw Roy nod in agreement. Keeping his right hand on the wall as a reference point, he started down the hall. Glow from their flashlights was enough to reveal two doors on each side of the short hallway. While Gage moved to the closest door, Roy went for the door across the way. Both rooms proved to be empty.
As Johnny chalked a big “X” on the door, Captain Stanley’s voice sounded over the handy-talkie. The dark-haired paramedic pulled off his facepiece and acknowledged the summons.
“HT 51.” He coughed as the acrid smoke eddied about him.
“Gage, back up has arrived on scene. More men are heading in. Any luck?”
“Negative. We’re continuing the search.”
“10-4, HT 51. Stanley out.”
Gage wasted no time replacing his facepiece. The air was definitely growing smokier.
Crouching lower, he walked to the end of the hallway. It opened up to a large room filled with partitions. Johnny squinted through the haze. Many of the partitions were tilted and sagging. Boxes were stacked haphazardly throughout the area.
Johnny shined his flashlight behind the partitions, moving some out of the way. The room appeared to be empty, but in the darkness and with all the smoke, he wanted to be sure. He turned to look behind some boxes. As he did, he missed seeing the tangle of cord on the floor and tripped. Instinctively, he reached out to catch himself and encountered a stack of unstable boxes. They came down on top of him.
^*^*^*^
Hank Stanley gazed at the structure with a worried expression. The fire was proving hard to fight. Harder than they’d expected and Hank had a bad feeling about the whole situation. Efforts to pinpoint the location of the kids attending the party were unsuccessful. The drunken girl couldn’t tell them anything more than she already had.
Stanley looked over at the girl in question. She was now sitting on the bumper of the squad, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. He sighed in frustration.
^*^*^*^
“Shit.” Johnny swore as he landed on his knees, cardboard raining around him. Thankfully, the boxes were empty, and he easily pushed them aside. He regained his feet and grimaced slightly at a twinge in his right knee. Sweat trickled down his neck. Picking up his flashlight, he rejoined his partner.
“Anything?” he yelled.
Roy shook his head no.
A voice sounded over the HT.
“HT 36 to Command.” Johnny recognized Sal Guilia’s voice. “We’ve found five victims. All Code F. No si . . .”
Guilia’s transmission was suddenly cut off. At the same moment, Johnny felt the building rumble beneath his feet. What the hell was that?
Through heavy static on the HT came Guilia’s voice, “. . . n explosion . . . oth hurt . . .”
^*^*^*^
The sound of the explosion and following transmission chilled Hank. Despite the increased manpower, this fire was rapidly getting out of control. There were too many unknowns about this building and this fire.
^*^*^*^
Johnny and Roy hurried as best they could to the north corner and up the stairs. If it was hot on the fourth floor, it was unbearable on the fifth. Heavy black-gray smoke boiled across the ceiling, forcing the two paramedics to hug the floor. Their flashlights illuminated little but the haze. The dark-haired paramedic pushed forward, following closely behind Roy.
After what seemed like an eternity, Roy spied a boot ahead of him. Further investigation revealed that it was Marty Raymour. His facepiece was cracked and blood trickled from his nose. He was unconscious. A quick check of his limbs revealed no obvious broken bones, but a further search for injuries would have to wait until they were outside.
“We need to get him out of here,” Roy yelled.
“Yeah. You take him. I’ll keep looking for Guilia.”
Gage wasted little time helping position the injured fireman on Roy’s shoulders. He paused for just a moment and watched his partner walk away before resuming the search. He inched forward. Visibility being what it was, Johnny depended more on touch than sight. His head was beginning to spin a little as the heat pushed his body closer to dehydration. He was growing tired too and continuing to push forward was becoming an effort.
Johnny wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before he felt something in front of him. Hoping it was the man he was looking for, Gage pushed the flashlight ahead of him and was relieved to see the reflective stripe on a turnout. He had located Sal. The man lay flat on his back and appeared to be semi-conscious.
Pulling off his mask, he called out, “Sal? Sal?” Johnny began to cough as he sucked in a lungful of hot, abrasive smoke. Tears immediately formed from the grit and rolled down his face.
At the sound of Gage’s yell, Sal turned his head. He reached up and fumbled with his facepiece, finally pushing it aside.
“M-Marty?”
“No. It’s John Gage. I’m gonna get you out.”
“M-my foot’s caught.”
Johnny repositioned Sal’s mask. “You keep that on. I’ll take care of the foot.” Replacing his own mask, he coughed as he examined the debris encasing Guilia’s foot and ankle. Confident that he could move the debris, he went to work. By the time he dug Sal’s foot out, his dizziness had worsened, and he was panting with exertion.
Crawling back to Sal’s head, he said, “Can you crawl?”
Sal nodded, and Johnny quickly helped him to his hands and knees.
Urging Sal ahead of him, Gage started toward freedom. Suddenly, a roar filled their ears as another explosion ripped through the building. Detritus crashed down. Johnny threw himself forward, instinctively trying to protect Sal. Awareness faded.
^*^*^*^
Roy had just cleared the door with Marty on his shoulders when the second explosion occurred. Staggering slightly, he continued toward the squad. After placing the injured man on the ground, he tore off his facepiece and shakily slipped off the tank. Calling for assistance, Roy relegated thoughts of his partner to the back of his mind.
“DeSoto?”
He turned his head at the sound of his captain’s voice.
“Cap, Johnny . . . Johnny’s still in there. He was looking for Guilia.”
“Ellis is calling everyone out. The building’s unstable.”
DeSoto’s heart stuttered at the announcement, but he said, “He’s coming out. I know he’s coming out.”
^*^*^*^
Heat pulled Johnny back to awareness. Crushing heat. He felt as if he was roasting inside his turnouts. It took a moment for him to clear his head. He pushed off of Sal. A glance around encouraged him to move, and quickly. Flames were licking across the ceiling.
“Sal?” Johnny yelled as he gripped the other man’s shoulder.
When there was no response, he realized the other man was out cold. Just as he realized this, the alarm sounded on his tank. If they were going to make it out, it had to be now or it was going to be too late.
Fighting off another wave of dizziness as well as fatigue, Johnny stood. With fierce concentration, he pulled Sal to his feet and hauled him over his shoulders.
While he was well protected in his turnouts, Johnny felt the vulnerable skin on his wrists and neck blister. His ears too were falling victim to the intense heat. Ignoring it all, he started forward. Sal’s tank alarm joined Gage’s, once more bumping up his sense of urgency.
^*^*^*^
Having left Marty in the care of another paramedic, Roy gazed toward the building, watching the men who’d been inside rush out as ordered. None of them were his partner. Instinct urged him to go back in and find Johnny, but his captain had already warned him against attempting anything.
He felt a hand land on his shoulder and squeeze gently. The blond man glanced over to see Mike Stoker. No words needed to be said. Worry and support showed clearly in his eyes. After another quick squeeze, he left to return to the engine. Roy returned to his vigil.
^*^*^*^
Johnny finally found the stairs and started down with his burden. As he descended, the air cooled marginally. With a final rush of adrenalin, he pushed forward and found the exit.
Crossing the threshold into the night, the last of his strength and air gone, he sank to his knees. As gently as possible, he laid Sal down. Unable to regain his feet, Johnny stayed where he was. Distant sounds buzzed in his ears, but confusion reigned. Darkness edged his vision, and then he knew no more.
^*^*^*^
Bright light pierced his eyelids, and Johnny groaned. Blinking against a gritty, sandpaper feeling, he opened his eyes. Beneath a mask, the cool tang of oxygen soothed his irritated lungs. Squinting around, he recognized a treatment room at Rampart. For the moment, he was alone. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and silently inventoried his various aches and pains. His wrists, neck, and ears throbbed in time with his head.
Hearing the door open, he opened his eyes to see Roy entering the room.
Happy that his partner was now awake, Roy smiled. “Hey, partner, you took a few years off my life waiting for you to stumble out of that warehouse!”
Gage pushed aside his mask and croaked, “S-s-sorry.”
“Tell that to Cap. He’s complaining about the number of gray hairs he got tonight,” Roy’s grin grew wider.
“S-Sal? Marty?”
“They’ll be fine. Marty’s here overnight. Sal, a couple of days.”
“The rest?”
“So far the five fatalities Sal reported. We won’t know about any others until we can get in there. That girl doesn’t have a clue how lucky she is.”
Johnny swallowed hard and simply nodded. The girl might not know how lucky she was, but he did.
“I’m glad we got Marty and Sal out. I just wish . . . I wish we . . . well . . . you know.”
“Yeah, I do.”
The two men grew silent. They both knew how bad things could be in this business.
“Listen, I gotta get going. I’ll be by in the morning to pick you up.”
“Great. Thanks, Roy.”
After his partner left the room, Johnny sighed again and closed his eyes. Again he saw those orange, red flames rolling over his head and felt the heat pressing relentlessly into his body.
Yeah, I know exactly how lucky I am.
^*^*^*^ The End ^*^*^*^
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