Sizzle (St. Martin Family Saga): Emergency Responders Read Free Page B

matter what happens, you stay right beside me. On my ass.”
    From the radio attached to his shoulder, Clay knew a child was trapped in apartment 307. Without hesitation, Clay and Keith, and Ace with his rookie, ran up the stairs. At 307, smoke curled under and around the door.
    “Everybody get back.”
    Clay used his axe—and two well-placed swings—to break the door open.
    “Get down!” he directed as thick black smoke crackled in the air. He lifted the respirator hanging from Keith’s gear. “Mask on. Glue yourself to me.”
    “Clay, we need to wait for a hose team.”
    He turned to Ace. “No time.” He turned again and crossed the threshold. Oxygen sucked into the apartment stirred the air, and the fire roared in response. Clay heard the flash before he saw it, and he tucked and rolled out of the entrance and into the room. He turned a three sixty, but Keith was nowhere.
    “ Keith !” His shout was swallowed by the consuming fire.
    He was about to head back to look for Keith, but the wall buckled and fire flashed into his path, rendering passage impossible. The fire started at the bulge in the wall and followed a flint line across the living room to the corner and up to the ceiling. The air conditioner must have switched on somewhere because fire danced and then dissipated near the intake vents. He looked around for output vents so he wouldn’t be caught in the crosshairs as they spat fire.
    “ Keith !”
    A child’s scream came from down the hall, and Clay was pulled in that direction.
    Desperation ate at his gut as he thought about the kid not making it out and the choice he would have to make—as one man he wouldn’t be able to save two, so he was going after the screaming child.
    As he went deeper down the long narrow passage, thick smoke replaced fire and he was pushed to his knees to avoid damaging his lungs. Shit, he should have a mask but he didn’t like to wear one because it made him feel like he was suffocating. The baby’s cries grew louder. He advanced into a room and saw the crib. The child was clutching the slats and screaming. Smoke was stirring overhead, but the baby was low enough that he hadn’t inhaled much.
    Clay stood and hustled to the crib. “Hey, little fella. You ready to get out of here?”
    His voice was weakened from the inhalation of smoke. The child opened his arms to Clay and bounced up and down on the mattress. Clay lifted him from the crib. “All right, I gotcha.”
    With the kid in his arms, he advanced down the hall, staying low enough that the smoke didn’t get them. The fire had fully engulfed the entrance and there was no possible way he’d be leaving how he’d entered. The flames barring their passage turned from raging orange-yellow to cooler shades of blue. The color and calm were trying to play tricks on his mind, enticing him to walk through the flames, but he knew the only thing he could control about fire was his place within it.
    In his gut, that path of least resistance didn’t feel right. For starters, the entire place was engulfed, so where were the bulk of the flames? Hidden like an iceberg. And Clay preferred his enemies where he could see them. He was reminded of the complete lack of control he had in this situation. He needed to make a decision. He looked ahead and back and then ahead again. He didn’t want to go out the window, but his body wouldn’t let him advance. And he’d listen to his body’s warning because he’d seen what could happen when a firefighter didn’t. His mentor had died in a warehouse fire that still gave Clay nightmares. Fire couldn’t be controlled. It couldn’t be bargained with. And it sure as hell couldn’t be trusted.
    He turned and headed back down the hallway. Two seconds later a blast shot out from the spot where he’d have been had he taken the other route. He pulled the child closer and thanked God for foresight. He radioed for a ladder to the south-facing window. He didn’t want the child to breathe