back a step. “We’ve already rung four alarms on this job. The residence is empty. The other structures are all goners. Our job now is to wash down the fire, stomp out the sparks, and get back to the station with all our fingers and toes. Which is why, for now, you got the pumper. Get to work and don’t argue.”
I held my chin high, looked my stepfather straight in the eye, and said, “Yes, sir, Captain.”
A wise man once said that everybody has to pay his dues. I was no exception. My turn would come sooner or later.
Probably sooner.
4
An hour later, the fire was under control. Otto and Julia had soaked down the roof. They worked around the house to the kitchen. Lamar ordered me to back them up. I tied a clove hitch knot to secure a reel of unused hose I had been spooling, then went to help Julia with the blitz line.
The charged hose was as hard as concrete and just as heavy. I held it on my hip, supporting Julia as she opened the nozzle and a battering ram of water broke free. The line fought me as much as I fought it. It was like wrestling a Burmese python that had swallowed a water tank. My turnouts were immediately soaked with backwash, and the hose hammered my chest.
“Hold tight!” Julia ordered Otto, then turned her attention to the structure. “I’m taking the hooligan to it!”
With one deft swing, she knocked the back door off its frame.
“Swing battah!” Otto yelled. “That’s how you use a hooligan!”
Julia took a step inside.
Then she froze. “Down! Everybody, down!”
Fueled by fresh oxygen, the fire came alive, and flames erupted from the door frame. They seemed to be suspended in air. A ballet dancer in the midst of a grand jeté . Then—boom! A wave of heat swept over the porch with a roaring ovation of sound and furious heat.
Julia was thrown down on the porch. She threw an arm across her face to cover the face shield. Then she went limp.
“Jules!” Otto hit the fire with a jet from the hose. “Get her, rookie!”
I dived onto the porch. Rolled under the flames. Grabbed Julia under the arms for a carry. She was solid as an engine block, but the backdraft had tossed her like a rag doll.
“Julia!” I carried her to the grass. “Can you hear me?”
“Hell, Boone. I’m not deaf.” She popped her chin strap. “Just knocked the wind out of me. Lucky I landed on my ass.”
“Yeah,” Otto shouted. “It’s got more padding than a LazyBoy!”
“Look who’s talking! Give me a hand up.” Julia got to her feet, holding her back. She pulled her helmet off. Her face was encrusted with black ash.”Hold down the fort, boys. I’ve got to have a cigarette.”
She pulled a pack of Marlboros from her turnouts. A lot of firefighters smoked. Every time I had to define ironic, I thought of firefighters with charred faces lighting up a cancer stick.
But Julia’s smoking wasn’t ironic. It was stupid and tragic. Both of her parents had died of COPD. She had nursed them both in their final days, and it had not helped her kick the habit.
“Hey!” Otto yelled. “Did y’all year that?”
“Hear what?” Julia said.
Then I heard it, too.
A scream from inside the house.
“It’s a woman’s voice!” I shouted. “Somebody’s in there!”
Julia cupped a hand to her ear. “What?”
“Inside! There’s somebody inside the house! I just heard a screamI”
“The house is empty,” Julia dropped the cigarette and reached for her helmet. “Y’all are hearing things.”
“No, I heard it—yes! There it is again! From the back of the house!”
I jumped onto the porch. Peered into the smoke-filled corridor. The way was clear.
“Hold on!" Julia yelled. "Two in, two out!”
Before she could stop me, I bounded inside and dropped my face shield into place.
“Goddamn it, Boone!”
When I got out, Julia was going to kill me. But someone was in danger. No way could I stand around waiting.
The corridor was shrouded in thick smoke. It clung to the
I held my chin high, looked my stepfather straight in the eye, and said, “Yes, sir, Captain.”
A wise man once said that everybody has to pay his dues. I was no exception. My turn would come sooner or later.
Probably sooner.
4
An hour later, the fire was under control. Otto and Julia had soaked down the roof. They worked around the house to the kitchen. Lamar ordered me to back them up. I tied a clove hitch knot to secure a reel of unused hose I had been spooling, then went to help Julia with the blitz line.
The charged hose was as hard as concrete and just as heavy. I held it on my hip, supporting Julia as she opened the nozzle and a battering ram of water broke free. The line fought me as much as I fought it. It was like wrestling a Burmese python that had swallowed a water tank. My turnouts were immediately soaked with backwash, and the hose hammered my chest.
“Hold tight!” Julia ordered Otto, then turned her attention to the structure. “I’m taking the hooligan to it!”
With one deft swing, she knocked the back door off its frame.
“Swing battah!” Otto yelled. “That’s how you use a hooligan!”
Julia took a step inside.
Then she froze. “Down! Everybody, down!”
Fueled by fresh oxygen, the fire came alive, and flames erupted from the door frame. They seemed to be suspended in air. A ballet dancer in the midst of a grand jeté . Then—boom! A wave of heat swept over the porch with a roaring ovation of sound and furious heat.
Julia was thrown down on the porch. She threw an arm across her face to cover the face shield. Then she went limp.
“Jules!” Otto hit the fire with a jet from the hose. “Get her, rookie!”
I dived onto the porch. Rolled under the flames. Grabbed Julia under the arms for a carry. She was solid as an engine block, but the backdraft had tossed her like a rag doll.
“Julia!” I carried her to the grass. “Can you hear me?”
“Hell, Boone. I’m not deaf.” She popped her chin strap. “Just knocked the wind out of me. Lucky I landed on my ass.”
“Yeah,” Otto shouted. “It’s got more padding than a LazyBoy!”
“Look who’s talking! Give me a hand up.” Julia got to her feet, holding her back. She pulled her helmet off. Her face was encrusted with black ash.”Hold down the fort, boys. I’ve got to have a cigarette.”
She pulled a pack of Marlboros from her turnouts. A lot of firefighters smoked. Every time I had to define ironic, I thought of firefighters with charred faces lighting up a cancer stick.
But Julia’s smoking wasn’t ironic. It was stupid and tragic. Both of her parents had died of COPD. She had nursed them both in their final days, and it had not helped her kick the habit.
“Hey!” Otto yelled. “Did y’all year that?”
“Hear what?” Julia said.
Then I heard it, too.
A scream from inside the house.
“It’s a woman’s voice!” I shouted. “Somebody’s in there!”
Julia cupped a hand to her ear. “What?”
“Inside! There’s somebody inside the house! I just heard a screamI”
“The house is empty,” Julia dropped the cigarette and reached for her helmet. “Y’all are hearing things.”
“No, I heard it—yes! There it is again! From the back of the house!”
I jumped onto the porch. Peered into the smoke-filled corridor. The way was clear.
“Hold on!" Julia yelled. "Two in, two out!”
Before she could stop me, I bounded inside and dropped my face shield into place.
“Goddamn it, Boone!”
When I got out, Julia was going to kill me. But someone was in danger. No way could I stand around waiting.
The corridor was shrouded in thick smoke. It clung to the
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