Page 23 of Fire Fight
My fingers found the burns on my neck, and I shivered as I tried to remember the assault. How the dark figure had come out of seemingly nowhere. Laying on the dirt, gasping for air, blood from my nose coating my teeth and tongue.
The altercation beyond that was such a blur, and the time between my abduction and waking up in that garage building was completely absent, likely my brain’s way of protecting me from the trauma. The harder I tried to bring things from that night into focus, the more other memories appeared.
A different town halfway across the country.
City lights beyond the windows of a white-washed apartment.
A different attacker, more than one, a different set of injuries.
A different hospital, but the same smells, sounds. Same parents crying over the near loss of another daughter.
Pain. Pain. Pain.
Like a morbid, fucked up slideshow, memories from then and now layered over each other.
Barely making it to the phone to call for help.
Calls for help echoing back at me from the concrete warehouse, unanswered.
Around and around they went until I no longer knew where, when, or who I was. My breaths sawed in and out of me, and though I could hear voices calling, repeating a name that seemed vaguely familiar, I struggled to find my way toward it.
My temples pounded, my brain a messy, tangled web of sounds and sensations.
“Sheriff!” someone shouted, cracking through my delirium. “What are you doing to her?”
“Nothing!” came the reply.
“Aspen,” a female voice said, closer now. Distantly, I registered her grabbing my hand. “Look at me.”
I had no memory of even closing my eyes, but I did as she asked. It felt like my lungs were being squeezed by a fist, tighter and tighter. My pulse throbbed in my head.
“I need you to take deep breaths,” she, who I recognized as my nurse, Sonya, commanded, showing me what to do. “In for four, out for six. Let’s do it together.”
In tandem, Sonya and I counted, the numbers leaving me in gasps, until the obnoxious beeping—which I belatedly realized was my heart rate monitor—stopped, until I could fully inhale once again.
Too embarrassed to look at him, I rubbed my temples and kept my gaze on the wall ahead as I said to Lane, “I’m sorry, Sheriff. Can we do this another day?”
Finally daring to meet his gaze, I scanned the room, finding him standing by the door.
But he was no longer alone.
It’s okay, honey.
We’ll get you fixed up.
Don’t worry, Aspen. I’ve got you.
“Crew.”
eight
. . .
CREW
As a first responder,I’d gotten really good at pulling victims out of fires, leaving them in the care of paramedics, and moving on with my life. That was the job: make the save, then forget about them. Over and over and over. Getting attached was not only frowned upon, but could be dangerous as well. When we were on shift, our entire focus had to be centered on every call.
That wasn’t to say a lot of the guys in the department didn’t have families, because they did. Chief Madden, in particular, had been married for over twenty years and had a daughter and son. Most of us were younger, though, still sowing our wild oats before ultimately settling down.
