Page 86 of Fire & Ice

The twisted knot in his stomach hasn’t unclenched, either, and Leander knows it’s related. He’s fairly certain about what’s going on with Tripp, and it’s not something that can be fixed over text or a casual phone call. Part of him is remorseful, thinking that if he could rewind time and do this afternoon over, hewould—he regrets letting fear control his response, now—but another part of him is irritated.

Trippcould certainly say something, too, instead of pulling this passive-aggressive, “I’m fine,” bullshit Leander thought that they were long past.

It’s a sore enough subject that he hasn’t reallytriedto make amends (or even made plans to make amends) over text, because if Tripp is going to play games, Leander’s not going to make it easy for him to do so. That doesn’t mean he isn’t worried as hell about Tripp’s well-being, though.

The box-frame ambulance turns a bit roughly onto the darkened side street that’s home to the building they’re headed towards, smashing a pothole with the right front tire. The jolt has Marley grimacing apologetically as the truck bounces from side to side, trying to right itself. Grumbling nonsense, Leander grabs onto the handle above his head so that he doesn’t get tossed into the window, and narrows his eyes at his partner before focusing them out on the scene ahead.

The night is dark but the sky is almost glowing with the way the fire has engulfed half of the top floor of the sprawling building. It’s big—three stories high and spanning a good third of the block just in width. Leander recognizes the place to be a now-defunct battery manufacturing company with questionable scruples—the locals say the groundwater within a mile each direction is permanently tainted from their activities, but no one seems to know if that’s actually true. Regardless, the inside remains full of everything from giant smelters, to variousproduction machinery, to empty corporate offices. It’s going to be an absolutenightmareto control and clear.

On the plus side, it’s a new enough building that it should have sprinklers, though Leander guesses they’re likely partially defunct from lack of maintenance. Perhaps they’ve been able to keep the flames somewhat contained, though. Maybe that’s why it appears that only the back corner of the top floor is on its way to fully engulfed. Out on the street, there are tons of assorted fire apparatus lining both curbs: engines, ladders, at least one rescue, and as such, there’s charged and leaking five-inch hose line everywhere.

Leander instructs Marley to follow the direction of a police officer—Darla—wearing a reflective vest and waving them through a particular path to the heart of the whole scene. On the other side of the street, safe from being parked in by apparatus and gear, Leander clocks Medic One sitting with their flashers on and back doors open. Inside, Zosia and Echo are visibly working on a patient.

They must have plans to transport, which is why Darla is stranding Medic Two in the middle of the fray. Leander sighs and reluctantly gets on the radio to assume EMS command. They’re stuck here for the duration, now, might as well accept his fate.

It’s not long before his phone is buzzing in his pocket—Zosia, confirming his suspicions—Medic One is going to Central with the smoke inhalation guy, and then they’ll be back. As he exits the ambulance, Leander acknowledges both her and Echo as they wave from the back of their truck before pulling the doors shut.

While Leander would love to sweep an eye over the scene, to spend a few moments looking for Tripp and his crew just to obtain visual affirmation that he’s okay, there’s no time. Evenas Leander is yanking the side compartment of the rig open and pulling out their fire rehab supplies, more trucks are arriving to help fight the blaze, which means even more people whose health and safety it’s his job to monitor and protect.

Sooner rather than later, he’s going to need to begin cycling them all through periodic vital sign checks and water breaks. He’s in over his head and he hasn’t even started.

Better get to work.

The next two hours pass in a blur of blood pressure cuffs and lung sounds, the roar of fire and engines idling, the heavy scent of smoke and diesel and sweat mingling in the night air. Despite the cold, no one complains or falters, everyone does exactly what they came here to do. Leander keeps only one of the ambulances that he requested from the county—a couple of firefighters end up being transported for minor issues, and it’s hard to run a rehab of this size with just two people.

An hour or so in, a handful of the city’s new EMT-certified probationary firefighters show up to help, and that’s a huge burden lifted.

Eventually, hours in, the Red Cross arrives, bringing their own emergency assistance unit. They’re handing out food, hot drinks, and providing a place for people who need it to get warm, which takes some additional strain off of Leander and his team’s shoulders.

The fire is aggressive, its location in the building making exterior attacks difficult and ultimately ineffective at eliminating the source. Despite multiple hose lines directed at the flames, they just keep coming, keep spreading, eating away at more and more of the building that still isn’t fully cleared. Everyone is weary—some of these firefighters haven’t worked a long-haul scene like this before, but Mickey certainly has, andhe wields control of the fire scene with a careful, capable, iron fist.

As EMS command, Leander confers with him briefly early on, walking over to where Mickey is running things out of his Chief’s vehicle. Various ideas are exchanged, but Mickey makes one thing clear—he wants to know if his people are tired, if they’re wearing out. Once the building is confirmed empty and any of the homeless people holed up in there are evacuated, if they can’t get the blaze under control, then Mickey isn’t afraid to let the thing burn.

He clearly wants Leander to understand that he’ll do that in a heartbeat, rather than risk his people’s health and lives. It’ll be controlled, of course: a surround and drown operation with continued exterior attacks to prevent the flames from jumping or spreading. At the end of the day, though, that amounts to the same thing—they’ll burn this whole thing to the ground, if that’s what needs to happen.

Since Tripp is leading one of the main interior attack crews, Leander sees him come through the EMS rehab station several times. Each time, he’s more ornery than the last, snapping at Leander and barely tolerating having his vital signs taken. The first couple of encounters, Leander lets him go, doesn’t even address his attitude. Tripp is stressed, he’s worried that there are still victims inside the building, he’s pissed at having to interrupt his search and rescue for rehab, and he’s pissed at Leander himself, that much is clear.

It’s not hard for Leander’s cooler head to prevail, and for him to simply table the entire thing. They’ll work through it tomorrow, when no one’s life is at stake.

But the third time Tripp is ordered by Mickey to sit through rehab, he mouths off, is an asshole to Marley, and that is Leander’s breaking point. He wouldn’t put up withthat behavior fromanyone,never mindTripp.Tripp,who is a leader, a mentor, and owes his entire crew a better example than that. Never mind what he owes hisfriends.

When it happens, Leander is standing across from him in the little campfire-style circle they’ve created just off the back of the open-doored ambulance. He’s distracted, crouched down and taking Ezra’s blood pressure. Ezra is a new recruit to Tripp’s station, a bright, sunny personality that Leander finds somewhat shocking and better in small doses. Despite that, he’s perpetually pleasant, always smiling, and so when Leander glances up from where he’s been focused on the gauge of the cuff to find Ezra frowning, he pays attention.

Following Ezra’s gaze, he registers Marley and Tripp engaged in a visibly heated discussion, glancing over just in time to see TrippsmackMarley’s arm away, snatching and tossing the pulse ox she’s been trying to slide onto his finger to the ground with a worrying crunch.

“I’mfine,”Tripp snaps, and Marley recoils.

In an instant, Leander’s between them, carefully curling an arm around Marley’s body to push her behind him while he glares down Tripp.

“Oh, don’t you start too,” Tripp scoffs, throwing his hands up before folding them across his chest, and Leander has had enough.

“Sidebar,” he growls, curling a hand around Tripp’s sweaty, t-shirt-clad bicep, only possible because his bunker jacket is currently shed, slung over the back of the camp chair he’s been occupying. “Now.” Tripp sighs heavily but doesn’t resist as Leander yanks him roughly around the side of the ambulance, where they have at least some semblance of privacy.

“What’s wrong with you?” Leander demands.

True to form, Tripp just rolls his eyes and tightens the way he’s hugging himself, but Leander detects a flash of—somethingbehind the arrogant facade. They’re at an impasse—Tripp is silent, and Leander is seriously concerned. A distracted Tripp is a reckless Tripp, and he can’t send him back into an active fire likethis.He has two choices right now: get through to Tripp, or bench him. While Tripp would deserve it, Leander doesn’t think that making him angrier will serve anyone in the long run (himself included), so he softens.

“Tripp, this isn’t you,” he tries. “Marley is one of your best friends. At the very least, you owe her an apology. And you owe your workfocus.”

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