Wildfire - Jo-Anne Joseph Page 0,22

the blueprints of the building. Chief just sent it over, so we know we have a couple of fire escapes at the side of the building. We have to make use of those. We have no idea how many people are in there.”

“I’m going to get ladders up,” Dan tells us. “Freddy and crew, you guys are on front approach.”

“I’ll take the ladder up. We need men on the fire escapes.”

People are spilling out of the building, and that always makes things more difficult. Keeping the crowd calm and trying to battle a fire of this size is a nightmare.

Someone stops the ladder a floor below the fire. I smash in a window, and Dan and I hop inside the small apartment. There is a thin layer of smoke, which likely seeped through the vents. We make our way through the abandoned apartment into the hallway. It’s eerily quiet. The way it usually is after an evacuation. We find the stairwell fairly easily and start up. The higher we get, the hotter it is. My mask and helmet feel stifling, my air tank oppressively heavy.

“This is it, Dan,” I shout. A thumbs-up indicates that he’s ready.

As the door bursts open, we open our extinguishers and immediately start making our way through the blaze. It’s hard to see where I’m going, but I push on. Flames dance across the walls and on every surface — reds, oranges, yellows, and blue.

I motion for Dan to take the left side; I’ll take the right. In this scenario, we listen to body language and hand signs. I kick open a door. “Anybody in here?” I am met with silence. It’s not anything to celebrate, but I hold the hope that the residents got out in time. After kicking a few more doors down and watching in horror as everything the people who lived there once loved melts and combusts into nothing. I stand at the last door, and I get that sickening feeling Kyle says is a psychic ability of sorts. He often tells me that once a person has touched death or stared it in the face as many times as I have, it’s frighteningly acute.

“Help!” someone behind the door shouts, and I wish I misheard it. I wish that when I kick down the door, I will find it empty. My foot connects with the wood, and a blast of flames has me ducking down low. Dan takes cover just in time.

“On three,” he shouts. One, two, three . . .

I rush into the apartment, and I see them, huddled in a corner, a woman and a little boy. My extinguisher is nearly out, but I spray my way to them. The window above them is open. I radio down to the truck and tell them we’re on the east side of the building and to bring the ladder up to the open window.

“Take my boy,” the mother sobs when I approach her.

“We’re taking you both, ma’am,” I assure her. The ladder hits the ledge, and Dan grabs the boy and climbs on. I watch them descend. I pull off my helmet.

“I’m going to need you to do the same, ma’am. There are people down there waiting for you both. You’re going to be okay.” She nods, and for the first time, I see it — her swollen belly. My head hurts, and I feel dizzy. I help her onto the ladder. “See you down there.”

I’m about to step out onto the ladder when I feel the windowpane give. I have to hurry. Going back is no option. I’m on the ledge ready to climb on when I feel the surface behind me give way. The floor is caving.

9

Aidan

I have given a lot of thought to dying, how it will feel. I imagine that I’ll finally see my mother, hold her hand and hug her again. And it is just the way I envisioned it. She stands in a clearing, a forest behind her, like the one behind my apartment building. Her smile is warm, and her eyes convey the love I have missed all these years.

“My son.” She smiles and stretches out her hand for me. I walk toward her and take it. She’s wearing those denim overalls she used to love to wear while gardening. Flowers in her wild brown hair. Mom is just the way I remember her.

“Mom.” The word I have not spoken for all these years sounds natural again.

“I’d like you to meet someone.” I look behind