Things You Save in a Fire - Katherine Center Page 0,49
as I heard a footstep right beside me.
I popped up like a jack-in-the-box, launched a serious, full-body kick, and didn’t realize until I was making impact with my foot that I was kicking the rookie.
He doubled over and hit the ground.
I dropped beside him. “Rookie! What the hell?”
I’d knocked the wind out of him. He was down on all fours.
It’s scary to get the wind knocked out of you. It means the impact was hard enough to scramble the nerve signals to your diaphragm. Needing to breathe but not being able to is never an easy feeling.
“Okay,” I said, switching from attacker to coach. “Straighten up.” I pushed his shoulders back to guide him. He let me. “Put your hands behind your head.”
He did it, and with that, his breathing came back.
“That’s right,” I said, breathing with him, watching his chest rise and fall. “In, then out.”
I knelt there next to him while his breathing normalized, keeping a hand on his back.
When he was ready to speak at last, he looked a little mad. “What the hell, Hanwell!”
I gave him a look like, What the hell, yourself! “You startled me.”
“I wasn’t trying to,” he said, like that mattered.
“I was fast asleep, pal,” I said. Okay, hardly fast asleep—but close enough. “What was I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” he said, somehow annoyed and sarcastic and appealing all at once. “Maybe open your eyes and say, ‘Hey, rookie! Thanks for being awesome.’”
“What are you even doing here?” I asked.
He blinked for a second, like he thought we should already be clear on that. “I’m rescuing you,” he said. Then he gestured across the roof.
Sure enough, I could see the tip of the ladder pointing up over the edge of the roof, in the same spot as before.
He was watching me closely, like he hoped I’d be impressed.
But I refused to be.
“How did you get the ladder truck?”
“I talked the guys into it.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“I just, you know, advocated for you during dinner. About how they’d had their fun and it was time to let you down. And then I plied them with some cookies I baked. I guess they got tired of hearing about it, because Case and Six-Pack gave in.”
I shook my head at him. “That’s not what happened.”
He frowned. “Pretty sure it is.”
“You only think that’s what happened,” I said.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes. But you’re not actually rescuing me.”
“Why not?”
“Because they just drove away.”
To his credit, he didn’t turn right away, or run to the place where the ladder had just been. He kept his eyes on me and let all the pieces click into place.
Then he got up, walked to the edge where the ladder had been, and looked down.
“They drove away,” he confirmed.
I walked up behind him. “Hey, rookie,” I said. “Thank you for being awesome.”
That made him smile. I watched the sides of his eyes crinkle up. Then he smacked himself on the forehead.
I said, “That’s what you get for being a hero.”
He gave me a half-smile. “I can think of worse punishments.”
I just shook my head.
“I guess I really must have bugged them at dinner,” he said, still putting the pieces together.
“I suspect this was the plan all along.”
“You’re saying this was a long con to get me up on the roof, too?”
“Bingo.”
“How did they know what I’d do?”
“That’s just the kind of guy you are, rookie. You’re a gentleman.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Not bad,” I said. “Just exploitable.”
I walked to the edge and waved down at the guys, who were cackling with glee.
“Keep him out of trouble, Hanwell!” the captain called up.
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
* * *
THE ROOKIE SPENT the next hour confirming that there was truly no way down. No buildings nearby, no trees, no useful ledges. There was a hatch door down into the building, but it was padlocked.
Yeah. We were stuck.
Within the hour, he’d tried shimmying down the drainpipe (fail), lowering himself down to the second-floor fire escape (scary fail), and calling out to passersby for rescue. Triple fail.
You had to admire the optimism.
Once all hope was lost, we sat on the edge of the roof, dangling our feet over and watching the street below, in the quiet camaraderie of people who have literally nowhere else to be. A couple of Harley-Davidsons with no mufflers went by on the street. We watched the riders, noting silently that neither wore a helmet. In EMS, we call motorcycles “donor-cycles.”