Page 45 of Love, Always and Forever
Chapter 14
Smoke. Flames. Heat. So fucking much heat. No one could survive that kind of inferno. In fact, with one exception, no one had.
Mikhail watched as the police shepherded the spectators drawn to the tragedy back farther away from the property. One crew of firefighters kept pouring on the water, dousing the flames and cooling the embers while others stood watch to ensure sparks from the ever hungry fire didn’t catch hold on the neighboring houses. Meanwhile, the EMTs hovered close by to make sure the men and women who’d actually braved the flames to look for survivors were doing all right.
Good luck with that.
Yeah, sure, physically they were all fine. Mentally was a different question altogether. For Mikhail’s part, his heart hurt. Not exactly the kind of thing that could be fixed with an oxygen mask or a few butterfly bandages.
Originally the firefighters had retreated to a safer distance once they’d confirmed there was no one left inside to save. Both the grandmother and her adult daughter had died with their lungs full of smoke. That had been bad enough. But then police had learned from one of the neighbors that there might have been a child visiting the family, a little girl about six years old. No one knew for sure if she’d gone back home or not. Realizing she was unaccounted for, Mikhail had led the charge back inside.
He’d found her hiding in the back of a closet, curled up in a ball and barely breathing. The EMTs had done everything they could to stabilize the unconscious child before transporting her to the hospital. It could be hours or even days before they knew for sure if death was going to be cheated of his full fare tonight. Even those who weren’t particularly religious prayed hard the doctors could pull off a miracle.
Mikhail pounded his fist on the side of the truck hard enough to hurt. Indications were that two lives had ended because someone hadn’t changed the batteries in the fucking smoke alarms. The husband, who was out of town on business, would be carrying around a crap load of guilt for the rest of his life.
There was more than enough blame to go around. If only the crew had kept looking longer the first time they’d gone into the house. If only Mikhail had realized sooner that the closet had another small door in the back that led to the crawl space. It had been the perfect hiding spot for a scared little girl. It had almost been her tomb.
If…if…if…
He shivered from the cold that had settled in his soul. How many women and children were going to die on his watch? More than his conscience and weary shoulders could bear. He fought to keep his eyes open, because every time they closed for more than a second or two, his head filled with the familiar horror stories from the past: his dead mother, the civilian victims in Afghanistan, the two women who hadn’t made it out of that house alive.
The fire chief joined Mikhail where he stood staring into the darkness of the night and his past. “This was a tough one.”
Mikhail nodded but kept his teeth clamped together for fear of what he’d unleash if he let even a single word slip past the anger and the self-loathing clogging his throat right now.
“The EMTs said to let you know the little girl you carried out made it to the emergency room. Her burns were minor. Smoke inhalation was the real danger, but she’s breathing on her own now. No word beyond that, but the trauma hospital is one of the best in the world. She’s in the best hands possible.”
“Thanks, sir. That helps.”
Not really.
“The fire is all but out now. Get your gear. You’ll be on the first truck heading back to the station.”
Mikhail didn’t bother to protest. Thanks to a multicar accident that they’d responded to earlier, it had been a tough shift even before this fire. He didn’t have much left in him right now. None of them did. At least by the time the truck made it back to the station, they would be off duty, and he could head home with three full days off to recover.
And to decide whether he’d ever come back.
The chief hadn’t reached his position without having developed a sixth sense when it came to the mental state of his men. “Wanjek, you know none of this was your fault. Sometimes people make mistakes that have tragic consequences. It’s a damn shame about the two we lost, but thanks to your diligence, we did save that little girl.”
“Yes, sir.”
They stood in silence for another few seconds before the man spoke again. “God knows on nights like this it’s difficult to be a glass-half-full kind of guy. But for your own sake, try damn hard to see it that way. Focusing on the victories, however small, might be the only way you’ll survive in this line of work.”
He patted Mikhail on the shoulder before walking away to speak to more of his men.
Mikhail silently wished him luck in cheering up the rest of the crew, most of whom had been at this far longer than he had. Maybe the chief’s pep talk worked for them; it sure as hell hadn’t done much for Mikhail.
What good was a man if he couldn’t save those who couldn’t save themselves?
He hadn’t been able to answer that question back when he was a young teenager, and he couldn’t answer it now. Joe had been able to see through the facade that Mikhail presented to the rest of the world. Somehow, he had always sensed whenever the past had dragged his adopted son back down into the bitter darkness that had surrounded Misha after his birth mother’s death. Even after Mikhail had reached adulthood, Joe’s no-bullshit way of looking at life had remained an important anchor in his world. That anchor was gone now, and it was times like this when he missed his adoptive father the most.
As he gathered up his gear and helped load the truck, he reminded himself that he still had his mother and his brothers…and Amy.
Maybe when he got home, he’d see if she wanted to go grab breakfast somewhere. It wouldn’t be fair to burden her with the details of what had happened tonight, but a couple of hours in her undemanding company would go a long way toward helping him find equilibrium again.
His plans made, he turned his back on the still smoldering house and joined his coworkers in packing up. The sooner they finished, the sooner he could go back to the station house. Once there, he’d take a hot shower and scrub his skin clean of the stench of sweat, smoke, and death. Too bad the memory of this night couldn’t be washed down the drain, too.
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