Slow Burn, Chapter 20/21

CHAPTER TWENTY

Augusta was showing Candy how to handle a hose when Becky returned.  Their voices were raised, to be heard over the noise of the blaze.  “Keep your dominant hand around the hose at the armpit, and the non-dominant hand on the bail with the knob at arm's length.  And just keep it trained at the base of the flame, like you saw me doing.  Understand?”

“Uh…I think so,” said the dispatcher uncertainly.  She took hold of the hose like she was being handed a very large snake.

“Just do the same thing I was doing, pay attention to the lieutenant, and don’t screw up.  Then you’ll be fine.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Becky deposited the sledgehammers by Mare.  “Sure I can’t convince you to let me go up there?”

“Nope,” the lieutenant replied.  “Ford and Zawisza are bigger and stronger than you are, and they’re going to need everything they’ve got.  And they may not be wearing much, but they’ve still got more protection than you do.”  Mare winced and pressed her hand against her stomach before continuing.  “Besides, I need at least one experienced hand down here on the hoses.”

The lieutenant glanced over at Antonia and Augusta, who were getting a feel for the sledgehammers.  “You guys ready?”  Both girls nodded.

“Okay.  When you get up there, keep to the edges of the room as much as you can.  Swing these things out as far as possible – don’t go pounding the floor beneath you.  That’ll mean less power in your swing, but I don’t want you opening a hole right at your feet.  Be sure to sound the floorboards as you go, and make those farthest holes first.”  She swallowed.  “Jeez, I’d giving anything for a gas-powered saw.”

The lieutenant stared at the flames, currently held at bay – barely – by Becky and Candy’s hose work.  “This is a wily one.  Watch each other’s backs up there.  And keep this thing secure.”  She reached over and tugged the rope which connected their slender waists.  The knot was firm.  “Good luck, ladies.”

The pair nodded, then turned and raced toward the creaking stairs.

Mare turned aside and shouted.  “Candy!  How long did they say until the 6th Battalion could get here?”

The dispatcher wormed her head around to get a look at her watch without taking the hose off-target.  “At least another ten minutes, lieutenant!”

Shit.  Mare looked up as her chosen hammer maidens disappeared into the smoke.  She hoped she wasn’t sending them to their deaths.


* * *


Dina was virtually crawling, hunched low beneath the worst of the smoke.  The office corridor was now as hot as the boiler room had been, and she could see flames at the far end.  The acrid smell of burning wood and melting plaster filled her nostrils; she yearned to breathe the fresh air outside.  But she pressed on.

Once more she leaned wearily against the doorframe of the captain’s office; once more she staggered inside.  She peered off to the left, squinting in the haze.  Sure enough, there it was – Nick’s camera, still perched on its tripod in the corner.  The green “record” light was even still on.  Bingo.

As quickly as she could, Dina disengaged the camera from the tripod.  Then she hoisted it onto her shoulder.  To the fatigued reporter, it felt like it weighed about ten tons.  God…I don’t give Nick enough credit for lugging this thing around.  She shifted the weight to a better position, then stepped out into the hallway.

But the blaze had advanced – the way she had come was red with voracious flames.  Dina, you may be regretting this before long.  The reporter dimly remembered another intersecting hallway near the center of this one, so she struck out in that direction.

Soon enough she found it – flames were licking around the edges, but the hall itself was not alight yet.  Dina yelped as a hissing spark stung her right calf.  She clutched at the burn with her free hand, then looked warily down the dark passage.  She didn’t know where it led, but that didn’t matter.  The only way out was forward.


* * *


Antonia tried to keep her breathing rhythmic as she swung the sledgehammer at the floor, again and again.  Her tongue was dry in her mouth – she hadn’t had a drink in ages, other than a quick mouthful snatched from the kitchenette sink.  Meanwhile, the sweat was pouring off her body, soaking her clothes, and almost immediately evaporating off her skin.  She was parched, and her arms were aching.  But I’ll be damned if I wimp out while that volunteer’s still going strong.

She couldn’t see Augusta through the smoke.  But the steady sound of hammer blows, and the occasional tugging of the rope which connected them, told Antonia that the Polish girl was plugging doggedly ahead.  If she can do it, I can do it.  It’s a matter of Academy honor, for Chrissake.    The tall girl redoubled her efforts.

Abruptly, those efforts were rewarded with a new sound.  The thud of Antonia’s sledgehammer was drowned out by a great splintering, shattering roar.  She knew what it portended.  “Augusta, get back!” she shouted.  “It’s gonna go!”

She realized too late that the widening crack in the floor was headed straight for her.


* * *


The telltale crash and accompanying ‘whoosh’ from above the boiler room told Mare all that she needed to know.  Her heart leapt.  They’ve done it.  Her eyes flicked to the stairwell.  They had a small window now to knock the fire back on its heels, before it regained its strength.  The plan was for the sledgehammer team to come down and run the third hose upstairs.  Then they could attack the fire at its center, through the hole they’d made.

But anxious, precious moments slipped by, with no sign of them.  Mare didn’t need much time to read this situation.  Something’s happened.  She shouted to Becky, who was coolly operating a hose beside a frazzled Candy.  “Boyd!  I need you upstairs.  Grab that third hose and get up there!”

Becky looked down at the hose she was holding.  “Lieutenant, if I drop this one, the fire’s going to overrun us!”

“I know that!”  With a supreme effort, Mare lowered herself to the floor, and began to crawl forward on her elbows.  Pain wrenched her body.  Every one of the dozen feet to Becky’s position was agonizing, and the blonde lieutenant left a fresh blood trail behind her.  Becky looked on in shock.

Finally Mare dragged herself up next to Becky.  She slumped against the wall and motioned for the crewwoman to give up the line. Even as the redhead did so, she stammered misgivings.  “Lieutenant…”

“Oh, I can aim a fucking hose!  Get going!”

Becky relented, grabbed the third hose line, and sprinted up the stairs for all she was worth.


* * *


Dina staggered through the smoky corridor, still bearing the burden of the camera.  She was coughing considerably now, despite her mask.  She peered forward.  She thought she might have heard shouting up ahead, above the roar of the flames.

The reporter saw a doorway, and what looked like a wider passage beyond.  That passage looked safe, but the doorway to get there was ringed with fire.

Dina had no stomach for circus tricks, especially deadly ones.  But she didn’t think she had much choice here.  I’ll have to jump through.

The girl mustered what little strength she had left to make the attempt.


* * *


Antonia was dangling through the gap in the floor, hanging by the waist rope; the inferno yawned beneath her.  The collapse had caught both her and Augusta by surprise.  Antonia had nearly dragged the other girl down in her fall.  Now Augusta’s lithe body was braced on the broken edge of the riven floor, trying to simultaneously support Antonia’s weight and pull her up.

“Ja pierdole!” Augusta muttered through clenched teeth.  “Can you pull yourself up at all?”

Antonia managed to get one hand onto the edge of the floor.  Then she tried to lift her right leg – but shooting pain immediately defeated the attempt.  For the first time, she noticed there was blood running down the outside of her scorched nylons.  Some jagged piece of wood must have stuck her on the way down.  The auburn-haired girl gasped from the pain she was only just becoming aware of. “I…don’t think I can.”

The greedy flames grasped ever higher from below.

Then a wooden beam, afire down its entire length, clattered down beside Augusta.  The heat singed her leg, and she reflexively tried to move away.  But then both girls began to slip, and she shifted back, dangerously close to the burning spar.

Antonia looked upward into the face of her blonde companion.  “You need to get out of here,” she said numbly.

The Polish girl’s fine-featured face hardened.  “There’s an American phrase I’ve heard used for this kind of situation.  I believe it’s ‘Like hell.’”  She grimaced as the flames licked at her leg.  The girl below started to swoon from the intense heat.  Augusta shifted and covered Antonia’s upper hand with her own.

Suddenly a steady stream of water shot out from behind them.  It played over the scorching beam, extinguishing it.  Augusta’s head popped up to see Becky on the far side of the room, hose in hand.

“I can’t get to you right away!” the redhead shouted.  “Can you pull her up?”

Augusta reached down inside herself and somehow found the strength to do so.  She released her steadying handhold – starting to slide downward – then grabbed both of Antonia’s wrists and heaved upward.  She managed to pull the other girl on top of herself, braced her feet once again, then laid still, gasping.

Becky picked her way along the edge of the collapsed section as quickly as she could, trailing the hose behind her.  As soon as she reached them, she dragged both of her crewmates back from the brink.  “You two alright?” she shouted.

Augusta checked herself and Antonia.  The latter was momentarily stunned, but apart from the wound to her leg she otherwise seemed fine.  “We’re okay,” the Polish girl panted.

“Okay then,” the redhead said resolutely.  She aimed the hose down the gaping hole.  “Let’s get this sucker.”  She flipped the nozzle to open flow again.

Gallon after gallon struck true as they jetted down, straight into the maw of the fiery beast.


* * *


Dina laid the camera down carefully on its smooth side, then tested the camera’s traction on the floor.  Satisfied, she backed up a little, then gave it a running shove.  The device skidded along the floor and through the flames before hitting something on the far side with a soft thump.

Proof of concept.  My turn.  Dina backed up some more, and took in a deep breath.  Then she burst into a run, speeding down the dark corridor as fast as she could in her heels.  Coming abreast of the doorway, she could feel the heat of the flames on her face.  She closed her eyes, tucked, and rolled…

And she was through!  She tumbled to a halt on the far side, then collapsed into a heap.  Dina opened her eyes to find herself staring up into Mare’s quizzical face.

The lieutenant was slumped against the wall, training a hose on the blaze in front of her.  Her voice was incredulous.

“Miss Reed?!  How did you get here?  Are the others alright?”

Dina responded wearily.  “They were just fine when I left them.  I had to go back to get that.”  She pointed to the camera on the floor.

“I should have known it was you after that thing skidded into me.”  The lieutenant was shouting not just to be heard, but to admonish.  “Why the hell were you risking your life over a goddamned camera?!”

Dina rose to her knees, and quickly extinguished the still-smoldering seat of her skirt.  “Evidence,” she breathed out.  She placed her forearm against the wall and leaned her head dully against it.  “evidence Grady was here.”

“No shit?”  The lieutenant’s voice softened.  “I guess that’s a decent reason.”

Then Mare gave a sudden shout of jubilant success.  “Ha!  Now we’re talking!”

“What?” Dina queried.

“Don’t you feel that?”

“No…”

“Guess it takes practice to notice.  The heat’s less, the flames are receding!”

The fire still looked pretty intense to Dina.  “If you say so…”

“That’s my girls,” Mare said softly.

At that moment the locked exterior door at the end of the central passage crashed open from the outside, shattered by a trio of fireaxes.  Mare, Dina, and Candy looked over to see several fully-accoutred firemen surge through.  A lieutenant of the 6th Battalion was in the lead, and he quickly pushed his mask aside.

His face was aghast as he took in the scene – the dwindling flames, the steady fire hoses, the drastically under-equipped women, and Mare’s bloody bandages.

“Jesus, Marigold!  What…how did you…have you been shot?!”

“We can talk about that later, Cal,” Mare said coolly.  “I’m still Incident Commander.  She pulled herself up a little straighter against the wall, wincing from the effort.  “I’ve got a paramedic sheltering with three critically wounded in the garage on the north side, they need to be evacuated.  And we’ve got this blaze licked if we keep the pressure on.  I’ve got three crew – possibly injured – running a hose up on the second floor who need to be relieved by someone in full gear.  Plus me and Candy here.”

“You got it,” Cal replied.  “You heard the lieutenant, guys.  Move it!”

Mare surrendered her hose and leaned her head back against the wall, shutting her eyes.  “Thank God,” she whispered.  A few rolling tears traced clean lines down her face.

Over to the side, Candy handed off her hose to an eager young fireman.  The dispatcher looked down self-consciously at her sundress.  It was a sodden, ashen mess, but some hints of red remained.  She smoothed out the material as best as she could with one hand, removing her improvised mask with the other.  Then she tucked a rogue curl behind her ear, tilted her head coquettishly, and smiled.

“So," she said in a sweet voice, "what took you boys so long?”


* * *

The arriving firemen were still swarming into the building as Dina staggered out, bearing the camera.  She waved off the entreaties of paramedics and headed for the news van.  The press corps was now streaming across Paradiso Street from the pavilion, and several acquaintances recognized the Channel Seven reporter.  But, seeing her thousand-yard stare, they gave her a wide berth.

Dina pulled open the driver’s door and climbed inside, where she removed her phone from the glove compartment.  She dialed the head office.  “Oliver?  Yeah, it’s Dina.”

She cradled the phone against her shoulder as she switched in a fresh battery pack for the camera.  “Yes, I’m still there.  I was inside.”  She connected the remote transmitter to the camera.  “I’m juicing an uplink now.  Get Randy on the editing – best footage is in the second half.  Run an intercut, I’ll do a voiceover.”

Dina looked over her shoulder.  “Let’s make this quick.  Nick’s hurt, they’re going to be taking him to the hospital.  You’ve got me until that ambulance is loaded.  When it leaves here, I’ll be on it.”


* * *


Grady was still in front of the microphones of several reporters, though they had requested he shift so their cameras could capture the emergency activity in the background.  Now their questions were about his tenure at Paradiso Station, and what in his professional opinion could have caused the conflagration.  He had tried to beg off more times than he could count, but they wouldn’t let him go.  Damn the reporters!

At first he thought he was hearing a microphone echo. Then he realized that someone had switched the large viewscreens behind the pavilion to stream Channel Seven live.  He could see his own frenzied face on the screen, and hear his own shaking voice.  

“You tried to pervert this place!  I would rather see it a smoking ruin than turn into what you want it to be!”

The footage stopped on a freeze-frame of Grady pointing his pistol at Captain Hawkins, the muzzle flash illuminating his crazed expression.  Over the still image, he heard the voice of Dina Reed.

“These were the words of former fire chief John Grady earlier today, after he and two accomplices seized and held hostage several members of the LAFD’s 15th Battalion at Paradiso Street Fire Station.  Grady then shot and seriously wounded Fire Captain Lorelei Hawkins before setting fire to the building and fleeing the premises.  From this reporter’s experience, I expect Grady to shortly be charged with arson, aggravated assault, and attempted murder.”

“For Channel Seven, this has been Dina Reed.”

Grady’s face went stark white as the members of the press turned away from the screens and brought their eyes to bear upon him.  Their eyes were narrow and accusing.

God damn the reporters.