Wildfire - Jo-Anne Joseph Page 0,4

The wooden staircase has collapsed and lies across the floor. “Kyle,” I yell, but there’s no answer. I move through the house carefully; at any minute, a beam could collapse and bury me with it.

“Help,” Kyle yells. “Over here.” Following the sound of his voice, I make my way deeper into the house. I nearly trip on something — someone, I realize.

“Kyle.” I drop to my knees beside him. “I’m here, buddy.”

“The beam, man,” he tells me, his voice hoarse.

His helmet mists and I know he’s trying to suck in air. I strain to shift the beam off his leg, and he cries out in agony.

“It just caved under me, man,” he trails off, and I know I have to get him out of here. Wrapping his arm around me, I lift his bulky form to his feet. His hurt leg gives, but I prop him against me, my arm around his waist as we make our way to the door. We stumble out with seconds to spare as an explosion sounds behind us. I’m pushed forward, with my friend in my arm, by the force of it. Hands are gripping me, but it’s a daze. Somehow, they manage to get us to a clearing. Medics surround us. I push them off. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” I scurry over to where Kyle lies on a stretcher. A man is working to free him of his helmet. He’s gasping for air, scratching at his throat.

“He’s suffocating. Do something, for fuck’s sake,” I yell. “You’re good, buddy, you’re good.” He stops breathing, and my eyes widen. “No.” I shove the paramedics away and start CPR on him. One of them joins in with the chest compressions, and my heart sinks with every pump. I can’t lose you, too.

“Let me take over,” a woman says. I back away because I’m spent letting her resume. I feel my insides lurch as I watch them work on my friend, and just when I think all is lost, he starts to cough and splutter, greedily sucking in air until his breathing is even. My ears are ringing from the noise, and I feel lightheaded.

“You crying, Wild?” he croaks, and I let out a breath, laughing loud and hard.

“Fuck off, asshole,” I cough. He forces a smile as he’s carried away. I run my hands through my hair, closing my eyes and pushing away all the reminders of the night my world came crashing down around me. Twenty years later, and I can still see it all so vividly, feel the heat on my skin, smell the smoke, and the feel of my mother's cold skin the last time I saw her.

I choose to relive the nightmare every single day, hoping nobody else has to. The rain comes down hard, and I sit with my arms on my knees, my head up to the sky, droplets of water soaking me through. The fire is contained, but it almost destroyed the house in front of me. This family has lived to see another day. They’ll rebuild the damaged parts, replace the furniture, maybe move away from here. All that matters is they’re together. They needed us, I remind myself. We risk it all for that reason.

“We’re driving back to the station.” Dan places a hand on my shoulder. I nod and walk to the ambulance. Looking at my friend on that stretcher, I can’t help but wonder, what about those that need him?

3

Ocea

I duck into the bar to avoid the downpour outside. My heart thuds against my chest after the brisk walk from the hospital a block away. I should have taken my car, but walking clears my head. I’ll go back for my wreck when I’m positively buzzing.

The bell above the door chimes and the warm, smoky atmosphere is a welcome reprieve from the chill outside. Shrugging out of my damp jacket, I hang it up on an empty hook, shake my wet curls, and make my way over to the counter. The smell of meat on the grill makes my stomach rumble.

Darren chats to a customer at the end of the bar but looks up when I take my seat. His smile is infectious. “Starfish!” he shouts a greeting and walks over, grabbing a bottle of my favorite beer. “It’s raining the devil and pitchforks out there.” He leans over the bar, kissing my cheek. That nickname is by far the worst I have ever had, but it’s Darren, so I tolerate it.

“Tell me about it.