Page 6 of Engulfing Emma

Becca tries to ask what’s going on, but he shuts her up. I stare at Becca. Becca stares at me. We’re both wondering how this is going to play out.

When the gunman is busy making sure the door is securely blocked, the man who moved the stuff whispers to me, “I saw a box of phones in that room.”

The kid moans in pain, drawing our assailant’s attention back to us. “What are you waiting for, teacher? Get in there.”

I step inside the room, already feeling claustrophobic and wondering if this storage room will become my tomb.

I look at Becca. Tears roll down her cheeks as the door closes. And then it’s quiet. The large storage room door muffles the sounds on the other side.

The kid cries out again, reminding me I have an important job to do. I grab a few shirts from the lost and found box, drop to my knees, and press them to his wound. When he screams, I try to calm him. “I’m Emma. What’s your name?”

“C-carter. Goddamn, it hurts.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But we have to control the bleeding. How old are you, Carter?”

“Nineteen.”

“You look strong,” I tell him. “That’s good. Can you hold these on your leg while I look around for anything that can help us?”

He puts a shaky hand on the blood-soaked shirts, not able to keep much pressure on it. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Hang in there, Carter.”

I riffle through the boxes, looking for anything I can use, when I remember the man said he saw phones. If I can call 911, surely they will tell me how to help Carter. Maybe they can helpallof us. But there may not be anywhere to plug a phone in, and even if there is, we’re stuck in a storage room. It’s not like I can stitch up his leg or remove a bullet with hole punches and staplers.

“Here they are,” I say, finding the box.

I move other boxes out of the way, examining the lower walls in my search for a phone jack. I find one behind the leg of a shelf. “Thank God,” I say.

I pull out one of the phones, watching the door the entire time. What if the gunman opens the door and sees me with the phone? Will he shoot me?

Knowing I don’t have a choice, I plug it in and pull out another shirt from the lost and found, figuring I can use it to camouflage the phone on the floor. Then I pick up the handset, never happier to hear a dial tone in all my twenty-seven years.

Chapter Three

Brett

My heart sinks as I listen to the voice over the loudspeaker, dispatching us to the elementary school for a shooting and hostage situation. I can’t help but think about Leo and how he will be going to that school in a few more years.

Captain Dickerson, or J.D., as we call him, sees my concern as we race to our respective trucks. “School’s been out for a week, so more than likely there aren’t any kids involved.”

I shake my head. “We can only hope.”

I hop in the passenger seat of Squad 13. Justin Neal takes the wheel, and Cameron and Miles sit in the rear. We follow Engine 319 out of the firehouse and head down a few blocks and around the corner.

Justin pulls up and waits for the police to direct him where to park. In situations like this, our rigs are often used to block traffic, create a perimeter, or get in the way of a potential escape route for the perps. Justin parks where they tell him, and we exit from the “safe” side of the truck, standing by to get our orders from the chief.

On calls like this, it’s a lot of wait and see. Sometimes they are false alarms. But judging from the onslaught of NYPD vehicles and S.W.A.T. team trucks, I’m guessing this is the real deal.

We stand behind our rigs, everyone from my company gathering together.

“Anyone know what’s up?” Sebastian Briggs, the driver of 319, asks.

Denver Andrews, who’s also on Engine 319, shouts to a policeman. “Jake. Hey, man. What’s going on?”

Jake walks over. “Here’s what I know so far. We think the perp robbed the grocery store on the corner. Someone inside the store called the police, and before he could get away, we had two units en route. The robber must have heard the sirens and panicked, grabbing bystanders to give him cover, and then he ducked into the school, taking several people with him. A teacher ran out one of the fire exits. She said two of her friends are still inside, along with a few other people. She said there was a lot of blood on the floor. A gunshot was heard right before they disappeared into the school. We still aren’t sure if he’s working alone or if there is another perp with them.”

“Shit,” Denver says. “So this is a real live hostage situation.”

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