Page 121 of Branded Hearts

“Oi. I don’t take orders from you,” the firefighter retorts.

At that moment, my radio crackles. “Copy Radio. Mitchell, we need you here.”

“Copy. On my way,” I say as I sprint back to the scene, and as I do, Faulkner barks my name out. I keep running back toward Daniels and Reynolds.

As the firefighters start to move the ladders up to the window where the man and little girl are trapped, every step, every movement makes me hold my breath. The intensity of the situation is overwhelming, and I can feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on me.

I watch anxiously as the firefighters reach the window and try toopen it from the outside. The mother’s cries for help echo in my ears, and I can’t shake the image of her husband and daughter trapped inside.

Suddenly, as they attempt to open the window, it shatters, sending shards of glass flying. The fire spreads rapidly over the area around us, the heat pressing against my face and body, suffocating and intense. I hear the crackling of the flames, a harsh, relentless roar that drowns out everything else. The smoke grows thicker, curling around us like a suffocating blanket, while the wind feeds the flames, spreading them further. The heat is unbearable, radiating off the flames and adding to the growing chaos.

“I’m moving closer. Fuck this. I need to help,” I bark out.

“Are you fucking mental? Leave it to them,” Reynolds yells back over the noise.

“Mitchell. Stop!” Daniels says, stepping in front of me.

“I can’t just fucking sit here and watch.” I push forward, throwing myself closer to the fire. I cover my face, coughing as the fumes enter my lungs, pushing forward despite the warnings from the firefighters behind me.

“All units, movement has been spotted. A young girl. She’s alone. A body is near her, but no movement from the man. Copy.” The radio crackles.

I’m not thinking rationally; I’m not thinking at all. All I see is that little girl trapped in there, her father not moving.

I see those sparkling brown eyes.

I see a little girl that I’ve come to know all too well just recently.

The little girl is clinging to the edge of the windowsill, probably trying to move away from the spreading flames. She looks down and spots me, her eyes wide with fear, before crying out louder. I manage to get just underneath the window and call out to her.

“Jump. I need you to jump, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.”

“I want my mummy. I want my mummy,” she cries.

I weigh my options. By the time the firefighter repositions the ladder to get closer again, another burst might erupt. The second floor isn’t too much higher up from the ground floor, probably about five metres, give or take.

“Your mummy is here. I need you to jump. I’ll take you to her,” I shout, trying to overpower the sounds of walls crashing and glass shattering.

“That’s a police officer. Get him out of there!”a voice crackles over the radio.

A bunch of firefighters and men from the SES team run up beside me, barking orders. “What the bloody hell are ya doing, mate? You need to move before the house blows!” one of them shouts, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me away from the burning building.

“I can’t leave her! She’s just a kid,” I protest, struggling against the firefighter’s grip.

“We’ll get her out, mate, but you need to move now! It’s not safe. It could blow any minute,” another firefighter insists, pulling me back as flames lick at the window above us.

“I’m not fucking moving. Helpme. Get her to jump. I’ll catch her,” I bark at them, my voice desperate. They ponder it for amoment, exchanging quick glances, before nodding to me. One of them barks out orders for the rest to follow.

“Grab a tarp sheet, and move the ladder closer to the girl,” he commands. Another firefighter breaks down what’s going to happen.

“We’ll position the tarp below the window. You stay ready to catch her when she jumps. We’ll do our best to guide her out safely.” I nod in approval, my heart pounding in my chest.

As they scream for her to jump, a firefighter creeps closer, climbing further onto the ladder as they move it slowly, inspecting where the father lies beside her.

“Copy Radio. Spotted the father. Moving closer. Over,” the firefighter reports over the radio, his voice tense with urgency.

“Come on, sweetheart, you can do it! Jump!” I shout, my heart in my throat. Crashes echo from behind her, followed by a surge of smoke and fire bursting from the windows. The little girl screeches, hesitating for a moment, fear clear in her eyes.

But then, with a final, desperate cry, she leaps from the window. In that split second, I lunge forward, my body instinctively reaching out to catch her. I manage to get under her just in time, breaking her fall as we hit the ground with a thud.

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