Slow Burn, Chapter 19/21

CHAPTER NINETEEN

As Augusta and Becky dashed past them, unspooling three hoses as they went, Dina and Virginia carefully maneuvered a folding stretcher through the corridor.  They carried the softly moaning form of Marguerite Cervantes.  “This is the first peep I’ve heard out of her since she was injured,” Virginia was explaining.  “It’s actually a good sign.”  Her cheerful tone was only somewhat forced.

“Good.”  Dina measured her next words carefully.  “So – what do you think our chances are?  Can they do it?”

“Wish I could say.  My dad – he didn’t want me joining up with this battalion.  He said it’d be full of women who were picked because they were women, not because they were the best at their jobs.  Maybe he has a point, but…”  The medic paused while they angled around a corner.  “This program is really unpopular with some folks in the city.  Especially within the department.  As I see it, the only girls motivated enough to volunteer for this crazy detail must be brave as all get out.  I figure bravery’s got to count for something.”

Dina smiled tightly.  “I think it counts for a lot.”


* * *


Antonia leapfrogged her way down the smoky stairs, avoiding the charred unstable portions.  She used the fire extinguisher she carried to treat trouble spots where flames still lingered on the stairs themselves.  Her auburn hair, pulled back now, seemed drawn from the same color palette as the embers along the edges of the wooden risers.  She reminded Mare a little bit of a mountain goat as she nimbly descended the stairs.

When the girl reached the bottom, she crossed to where the lieutenant was propped against the wall.  She crouched low, trying to catch her breath.

“Never thought I’d see a firewoman doing this without full protective gear – let alone in a skirt and heels,” Mare called out over the crackling din.

“Believe me, I’d kill for even half a set of turnout gear right now,” Antonia panted.

“I’m with you there.  Too bad they don’t arrive till next Tuesday!”  Mare coughed, despite her mask.  “Anyways, how’d it look up there?” she asked anxiously.

“I think I bought us a little time on the stairs,” the tall girl reported.  And the fire’s still mostly contained to the boiler room.  No fuel burning, thank God; call it a Class A.  But only for now.  It’s going to flash over if we aren’t careful.”

Another plan was forming in Mare’s mind.  “How’d the floor directly above the boiler room look?”

“Pretty flimsy – why?”

“That room has a skylight, as I recall.”  The lieutenant’s eyes flared.  “We’re going to do a ventilation.”


* * *


Candy stumbled through the smoke-filled corridor, grateful even for the scant protection offered by her improvised mask.  Finally she reached the vestibule.  She could see her desk, with the formerly-organized books now lying about in heaps on the floor.  Isn’t that just the icing on the cake?

She rounded the desk and began hunting through the books for the phone. Has to be here somewhere.  Eventually she found it, still off the hook, lying close to its dock station.  She raised it to her ear, praying to hear a dial tone.

Instead, she heard the bland closing notes of Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe.”  Then the Muzak was interrupted by a recording.  “Your call is important to us,” it droned.  “Your current estimated wait time is forty-eight minutes.”

“Seriously?!” Candy cried in disbelief, before slamming her hand down on the hook.  Dial tone achieved, she punched in the number for the internal LAFD emergency line.

The call picked up almost instantaneously.  “L.A. Fire Department Internal Board,” the woman’s voice on the other end intoned with routine emotionlessness.  “What’s the trouble…Paradiso?”  The voice abruptly gained some verve.  “Shit, I didn’t think you ladies were even on the grid yet.  But surely you aren’t taking alarms?”

“We are the alarm!”  Candy interjected.  "Paradiso Street Station is on fire!”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes really!  This is Candace Carmichael, station dispatch.”  She rattled off her identification number.  “We’re going to need two alarms, minimum.  Full set of ambulances.  We’ve got multiple critically injured, and armed assailants possibly still in the area.  Get the LAPD on the horn, too, Code 5058.  It’s time for them to start earning their keep!”


* * *


Dina and Virginia were lifting Nick, the last of their three charges, into the fire engine when Becky came running into the garage.  “Ginny!” she cried out.  “Did you see where those sledgehammers ended up?”

The medic thought hard.  “Uh, try the rear compartment.  Hatch Number 3.”  Becky rushed to the back of the engine.

“Sledgehammers?” Dina inquired.

“Next best thing to a fireaxe if you haven’t got one,” Becky called out breathlessly.  “Here we go!”  She shouted with success and removed two of the tools from the compartment.  She paused beside the open engine door on her way out.  I knew Lieutenant Thompson was a badass, but I never knew she was crazy until today.”  She flashed a reckless smile.  “We’re going to try a vent!”  Her words conveyed dire straits, but her tone suggested a desperate excitement.

The petite girl raced away toward the blaze once more.

“What’s that about?” Dina asked.

“Augusta explained it to me once.  Basically, they cut holes around or above a fire to be able to get at it, and to bleed heat and smoke off the fire’s center."

That didn’t sound comforting to Dina.  “Wait a sec – isn’t that just going to feed oxygen to the fire?”

“That’s what I said when I first heard it described.  But apparently if you do it right, you can lessen the danger of smoke and gases to the firefighters – the lieutenant’s probably thinking of that – and just maybe get a bead on the heart of the fire.  Obviously, it has to be done very, very carefully.”  The medic wiped some sweat from her brow.  “Usually with way more tools than we’ve got to work with.”

“Damn,” Dina muttered.  “I hope the lieutenant knows what she’s doing.”

“Me too.”

Dina was silent for a moment.  She looked down at Nick, nestled between the somnolent forms of Marguerite and Lorelei.  She reached over and devotedly stroked his temple with her fingers.  He stirred slightly in his sleep, and she smiled anxiously.

Abruptly she sat up straight.  “Ginny – what’s left to do for us here?”

“Nothing much,” the medic replied.  Just button up and wait, like the lieutenant said.”

Dina nodded.  “You do that, then.”  She hopped out of the truck and slid the door shut behind her.  “There’s one more thing I have to do.”

Virginia’s eyes narrowed in alarm.  “Wait, what?  Where are you – Miss Reed!  Dina!”

But the intrepid reporter had already disappeared into the rising smoke.