Page 4 of Fire and Icing

I throw on my coat and jog after him.

“Are those boxers NFPA approved gear?” The man supposedly named Chad asks with a chuff.

I ignore them and run behind Patrick to hop up into the back seat.

While I’m buckling in, “Chad” hands me a headset.

He explains into his mic, “Greyson and Captain are coming behind us in the rescue unit.”

“Is Greyson an EMT?” I ask into my headset.

“Yep,” Chad answers. “He and Patrick are EMT certified. Captain is too. Greyson served in the military before becoming a fireman. He was a medic overseas.”

“Fire’s at Emberleigh’s house,” Patrick says, interrupting my orientation to my crew to concentrate on the emergency at hand. “Kitchen.”

“Emberleigh?” I ask.

“Local baker. Best donuts you’ve ever had. And cookies. Pies …” Chad’s voice is airy with reminiscence.

My stomach growls in response. It’s no secret that I’ve got a huge sweet tooth. I can afford it. I work out two hours a day. What I wouldn’t do for something to fill my hunger right now. That thought is quickly replaced with a laser focus. This woman’s house is on fire.

“Is she in the house?” I ask.

“Sounds like it,” Patrick says, pulling up in front of a white home with a sweet front porch, flowers in the yard and trees scattered on the property. The neighborhood is the type you’d see on one of those Hallmark movies Mom and Mitzi like to watch over the holidays. Charming. That’s what they’d call it.

At first the house doesn’t appear to be on fire. But then I see it—the plume of smoke furling from the back corner. I slip my hood on, grab my SCBA mask, helmet, air tank and gloves.

We exit the engine and Patrick shouts, “Cody, hose!”

Cody.Not Chad. Mm hmm. That’s what I thought.

Patrick grabs the hose from Cody. He runs forward while Cody stands next to the engine to control the flow of water.

I’m in full gear. Patrick looks at me. “We’re on rescue.”

Without waiting for another instruction from Patrick, I run ahead of him into the house. He’s right behind me. Two in, two out. Never run in alone. I’m not alone, but I might be slightly further ahead of Patrick than I ought to be. It’s all so contained during training, even when we run into smoke and flames. This is different. My senses are on high alert. A woman is in here. An actual life is on the line.

Fire grows exponentially, not incrementally. That means a flame can go from twice its size to four times to sixteen times in a matter of moments. Time is always of the essence. Every second counts.

Thankfully, the front door is unlocked. I burst through, running toward the back of the house. The smoke is faint in the front rooms—a good sign. I move through to the kitchen and stop short when I see the woman standing there, a redhead with an extinguisher in her hand. She’s waving it back and forth toward the top of her stove, but the spray is running out. The flames were somewhat contained, but start to grow quickly.

She turns and her bright green eyes meet mine through my mask. She narrows her eyes and then looks around frantically. Patrick steps into the kitchen behind me.

“You need to get out, Emberleigh!” Patrick shouts.

He’s holding the end of the hose.

“I just need to grab my other extinguisher!” Emberleigh shouts back.

Patrick talks through his shoulder-mounted mic. “Hey, Cody, give me water!”

I look at Emberleigh, “Ma’am, we’ve got this.”

Emberleigh stands still as if she has no intention of moving out of the way.

“Come with me,” I tell her.

She doesn’t budge. Instead, she pivots slightly as if she’s going to stay put and spectate while Patrick extinguishes the growing flames. There’s no imminent danger, but smoke is getting thicker and the air is hot. Fire can be extremely unpredictable. Patrick and I are each wearing sixty pounds of fully fireproofed gear. Emberleigh is in jeans, a t-shirt, a floral half-apron, and bare feet.

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