Page 43 of My Damaged Protector

“Fine, but if you're doing this you're following instructions, or I swear to God, that's your ass.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” I concede, eager to please him.

He nods and then starts to give me instructions while he gets me the rescue gear.

“You're with the rescue team. Focus on the first few floors. We need to be smart about this. Shine is stopping the fire from the top, so if there are people up there, it'll give them an edge. Go, go, go.” He finishes speaking, clapping his palms.

A shot of adrenaline goes through my body, and I exhale eagerly at the prospect of working again.

Damn, it's been a while.

I get my gear on as fast as I can, fasten my overalls around my body, and then dash straight into the building.

The guys and I work together, passing necessary information to allow smooth sailing.

Soon, the lower floors are empty of people, so we move up. The fire at the top is still raging hard, though. You'd think the men outside hadn't been doing their best to put it out.

Richard commands that we go one more last round and then stop going inside, so we all disperse back into the building wanting to make the best of the last few minutes we have to save more lives.

On my way to the top, I find a boy trapped behind a door in a room. He seems to be trying to get after something, but I pick him up, wondering where the hell his parents are.

Things like this piss me off the most in my line of work. You'll see children caught up in avoidable dangers if only the parents were more careful.

“Ziah,” he whispers into my shoulder, his body thrashing.

Is there someone else here?

“Shhh,” I say to him and holler through the floor, wanting to confirm if there's still anyone trapped in there.

I get no response.

I repeat the process again. Nothing.

One last time, and still no response. A sigh of relief leaves me at the realization that no one may be dying tonight. I start to rush down the hallway, my goal intent to save the boy.

I'm about to round the corner when the barking of a dog fills the air.

“Ziah boy!” The boy in my arms starts to jerk, wanting to be let down so he can go save his dog.

I glance back at the dog. He's stuck behind the same door I just got the boy out of. How come I didn't see him?

Despite the scream of the boy, I continue down the hall and take the steps down. I can't save them both.

When I get back outside, the street is bustling with activity. Paramedics are everywhere, trying to get people who are injuredhelp while neighbors are now outside, trying to help however they can.

I take the boy with me to one of the ambulances so he can get checked.

“Ziah boy,” he starts to say frantically the moment I put him down.

I pretend not to hear him as Richard draws in near us.

“Ziah boy. Ziah boy is inside the house, please save him,” the boy is wailing now, practically clawing at the medic’s arms.

My heart starts to beat fast at the sight before me.

Shit.

I can't go back in there. It's burning hell.

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