as I spoke, the automated, robotic voice that flowed through the speakers of the tannoy system sounded. Everyone went deathly silent as we listened for the nature of the call.
“CHARLIE ONE. ECHO ONE. RTC. PERSONS TRAPPED.”
RTC. A car accident. My heart stopped.
I moved before I even realised it. I was right behind Stitch as he ripped off the tip-out sheet from the ribbon printer. I was supposed to already be in my position in the engine. On today’s watch, I was BA1. Breathing apparatus one. I was the first one to go into a fire should there be one, but at that moment I couldn’t find the willpower to move. I stared at Stitch as he read the report. When he looked at me, I knew what he was going to say.
“The location is Tulse Hill.” I held my breath. “Isn’t it?”
He nodded. Once.
It was my sister and Noah; they had been in a car accident. They were the people who were trapped and in need of help. In need of my help.
“Fuck,” I snapped, as adrenaline – and fear – pumped through my veins. “Let’s fuckin’ go!”
We were in the engines and on our way to the scene with the sirens blaring before I could blink. I was a fucking wreck. My heart was pounding, my hands were slick with sweat, and my stomach churned so much I was certain I was going to vomit. I’d struggled getting my gear on even with a friend’s help.
“God, please,” I said out loud as I clasped my gloved hands together, closed my eyes and lowered my head. “Protect me sister and woman in me absence. Please. Please. Let them be okay. I ask this in your name. Amen.”
Every single second felt never-ending. The worst images invaded my mind, of horrifying RTC scenes I had been to before while on watch, and videos and images of others I had seen years ago during my training days. I silently pleaded with God that I wouldn’t find the two women who I loved more than life itself in a similar situation to the horrors I had witnessed.
“Fuck,” Tank said from the driver’s seat minutes later. “The car is on its side, it’s smashed right into the exterior of a building. Police are on scene, they’ll control the civilians. A crowd has gathered.”
“Jesus,” I breathed as the truck came to a halt and my sister’s car came into view. I jumped out of my side before I even realised it. “Bailey! Noah!”
“Damn it, Irish! Elliot! You can’t – Fuck!”
I could see the lick of small flames coming from the bonnet of the car. There was fuel pouring from the back end and it had yet to ignite. Its odour was overwhelming. I didn’t have long before things changed from dangerous to fatal, and I knew it. I wasn’t supposed to go near the car until the situation could be assessed by the watch manager. The risk was too high to my life, to my friends, but I didn’t care and I didn’t wait for my orders. I heard shouts all around me from people standing idle on the streets, some with their hands over their mouths while others recorded the scene on their phones.
As I ran, I abandoned everything I had ever learned in training. Blind panic took over as I reached the car and scrambled on top of the passenger door without a moment’s hesitation. I could feel the heat of the growing fire on my face; I went to adjust the visor on my helmet and realised I wasn’t wearing it. Somewhere between my dismount from the engine and reaching Bailey’s car, I had knocked it off.
I pushed it from my mind and focused on the scene in front of me, but it was hard. The blaring noise from the car horn made it difficult to think.
I banged on the window of the car. Inside I could see two people, and I separated them immediately based on their hair colour. Noah was in the passenger seat and Bailey was in the driver’s. Noah was moving her arms and head slightly; Bailey was utterly still. My heart was pounding so fast I couldn’t hear my friends as they shouted to me and to each other. I yanked on the handle of the car door, but it didn’t budge.
“Fuck!”
The window was already cracked, so I repositioned my