“Oh, for fuck’s sakes,” someone shouted from behind me. “Move!”
One of the guys came through with the portable defibrillator. Only a few seconds had went by, the whole station working together swiftly to assess the situation. Tensions were high, but before he could start charging paddles, someone started laughing.
“Guy’s, she’s just passed out,” I heard a familiar voice say from within the crowd of men—my friend, Tom Stoggins. Seeing as I’d damn near started administering CPR, I’d never been so glad he was moonlighting as an EMT in my life. “Gunner here fucked her lights out.”
“How the fuck was I supposed to know she was gonna crash on me?” I grumbled, leaning my elbow on the very same table I’d been pounding Brandy on hours before. “I mean, shit, she can take it…”
Ten minutes later she was back on her feet and going to be fine, but waking up naked and surrounded by firefighters hadn’t exactly gone over well for her. She’d run out embarrassed and angry about the whole thing. I was going to have to screen my booty calls more thoroughly in the future…
“Maybe you just like them limp and lifeless, Gunner,” Stoggins said snidely, smirking at me over his coffee. “Figured that was the only way you’d have gotten laid in the first place.”
“Up yours,” I said, flicking a piece of egg at him from across the table. “You’re the one chowing down on the site of my latest conquest.”
“Yeah, after which I had to wipe your damn jizz off her tits before I could get ready to shock her back to life,” Stoggins laughed. Normally he’d be listening with rapt attention, but he’d never let go of a chance to give me shit—especially one as good as this one. “Never thought someone could actually fall asleep fucking, but somehow you managed to be that dull in bed—or on the table.”
The other men all laughed into their eggs, shaking their heads as they watched me and my friend go back and forward. This wasn’t anything new to them, Stoggins and I had been together since our very first day—he was the closest thing I had to a best friend.
“I mean, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever fucked a girl so bad that the only way she thought to get out of it was to start snoring.”
“You know what Stoggins? How about you kiss my—”
“Gunner Cole!” my Captain bellowed. I visibly flinched at the sound of my full name, like you do when you know your mom or dad are gonna kick your ass.
I tried to act cool, turning around in my chair and giving Captain Simms a wide, shit-eating smile.
“Cap’n!” I said with an over-eager salute. “Good morning, sir!”
“Save your shit, Cole, I wanted you in my office a goddamn hour ago. Get off your ass and move!” I knew he was pissed, more pissed than I’d seen him in months, and all that hot-headed Irish rage was about to come down right on my head.
“Sure, Cap, right after breakfast—”
“Now, you useless chucklefuck. I’m in no fucking mood for any of your shit today,” he said, his voice lowering until it was a growl—which was more frightening than the shouting would ever have been.
Reluctantly I got to my feet, following after the rotund figure of Captain Simms all the way to his cramped little office.
Along the way I saw a few other others poking their heads out to catch a glimpse of my “walk of shame.” I felt like I was being escorted to the principal’s office.
“Sit,” he barked, locking the door behind me and shutting the blinds—like the others would know exactly what was happening.
I did as commanded, knowing that as much as I’d like to, now was not the time for smart-assery.
“Have you got any idea how bad this makes this fuckin’ engine look, Gunner?” he asked, his voice rising once again. He wasn’t just doing this for me—the firehouse walls were so thin that you barely had to strain to listen to every word that was said, especially since Captain Simms couldn’t help but shout whenever he brought one of us into his office.
“You brought some girl into my goddamn firehouse—something that I’ve forbidden more times than I could count, specifically when it comes to you—and then proceed to have her almost die on my fucking dinner table?”
“She passed out,” I started to protest.
“The dinner table! I have to fucking eat on that thing, Gunner! Now all I can think of is your—”
The Captain stopped mid-sentence, cut off by the shrill sounds of the alarm bells that were the only thing on this planet that would get me out of this ass-chewing. A fire. I wasn’t exactly a praying man, but maybe there was a God up there watching out for me, after all…
I’d save the prayers until I was sure nobody was hurt.
I got out of the chair in a flash and made for the door, turning the lock before turning back toward Simms, my grin plastered back onto my face.
“Get out there and do your job, Gunner,” the Captain shouted.
Hero time, I thought to myself.
“Three-alarm fire on 5th and Main,” Stoggins said, bringing me up to speed as we dressed quickly and climbed onto the truck. “We’ve got people stuck on the upper floor, according to the call, and there’s another engine on the way.”
“Sounds like my kind of party,” I said, my leg jumping up and down with anticipation. All the pleasures and bullshit of life faded into the background. They couldn’t hold a candle to the thrill and the adrenaline coursing through me. There was nothing I loved better than fighting a fire.
Chapter 2
Tanya
The moment I first smelled the smoke would stay with me forever.
You see fires and stuff on TV. Not just the news, either. Dramas, movies, stuff like that—an out-of-control fire is the perfect plot device. It’s full of tension. Heroics. Tragedy, too. Sometimes it’s a great metaphor for change or destruction. Passion. Romance. However it’s used, it’s certainly a thrill—a symbol our guts immediately recognize, something even our DNA recalls from the dawn of time.
But it’s not real. And I don’t just mean that in an “it’s on TV” way. What I experienced that day in my apartment isn’t something that will ever be shown on TV or the big screen. No one will ever capture the sheer terror of those hopeless moments the way my memory did. And I’ll never be able to forget.
I was in the kitchen when it started. My apartment was on the sixteenth floor and it was kind of a shithole, so of course while the lower floors were burning, the alarms up by me weren’t going off. I was microwaving one of those Lean Cuisine dinners wearing nothing but some tiny pajama shorts and a tank top when the first curl of acrid stench went up my nose.
Huh, I thought. Maybe I put it in for too long.
Obviously, that wasn’t the case. I’d checked, though. Wasted precious seconds trying to figure out if the microwave was on the fritz. I even texted my landlord to see when he’d be able to get someone up here to take a look at it.
Now, just minutes later, I was thinking something totally different.
I was thinking, I don’t want to die.
Once I realized the smoke was billowing up from under my door, I’d made it out into the hall, but the smoke was way thicker out there. People were running, tripping over each other, trampling others just to get to the stairwell. Kids were crying. A couple of people were shouting just trying to keep everyone else calm. It was chaos. I couldn’t see a thing. My eyes burned. My lungs ached.
In just a few minutes, that narrow hall was packed with people. It was getting violent. I closed the door and ducked back inside. I figured I’d just break my window and removing the outer bars to get to the fire escape. It never occurred to me to think about why nobody else had tried to get out that way.
You were supposed to be able to twist a knob on the inside and then lift the bars up individually to take them out, but the knob was gone and the bars were stuck. In fact, it looked like someone had welded them into the holes. Shit. Fuckin’ Vinnie. My landlord was a paranoid piece of shit who didn’t listen to anyone about anything, much less young women tr
ying to educate him about the city’s fire codes.
“You want burglar to break in?” he’d repeated to me every time I tried to explain why bars on the fire escape windows were bad news. That, or he’d say, “No, no, no. Fire escapes are crime magnets. I’ve seen the Law & Order. Is better this way.”
Fuck Vinnie, and fuck Law & Order, too.
By the time I realized it was a lost cause, the smoke even in my apartment was dense, like fog on the streets in the winter. I tried to get out the door again, but the knob was so hot. It seared the flesh of my palm; the smell made my stomach turn.
“Shit. Shit!”
I stuffed anything I could under the door. Towels, clothes, whatever I had handy. I got on my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, returning to the window to look outside and watch the fire engines pull up.
They were just getting here. They hadn’t even got the hydrant going yet. My pulse pounded in my ears, deafening everything else except for the roar of the flames.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Please,” I managed, but devolved into a coughing fit a second later. My mouth was dry. My throat was ragged. Everything ached and burned. The window wasn’t helping filter out the smoke anymore. I ducked low, eyes stinging. “I’m in the Parker building. The one that’s on fire. I’m on the sixteenth floor...”
“Yes, ma’am, we are aware of the fire and have dispatched units to the scene. Is there a way you can exit the building?”
“No,” I choked. “The windows are barred. The fire’s in the hall already.” As I spoke the words, I realized how bad they sounded, how screwed I was. I swallowed a throatful of ash and continued, “Please. Someone has to know I’m up here. You have to tell them...”