Page 11 of Living with Fire
“I hear you,” someone shouts, banging on the door. “Stand back!”
I’m so thankful I’m shocked that I don’t sag to the ground and start crying. Thank God for adrenaline and survival instincts because I do what I’m told instead of what I want to do, backing away from the door.
I have no idea if the firefighter can hear me, but I yell anyway, “Okay, I’m ready!”
Not ten seconds later the door opens and my hero stands before me in full firefighter gear, complete with a mask that obscures his face. I launch myself at him, throwing myself into his arms—I’ll look back on this moment later and realize that I didn’t form a coherent thought beforehand. I’m just so grateful that I’m out and I’m not going to die.
Despite not being able to see his face, I’m certain he’s male. He’s tall, at least six feet, and I smash myself into him. There is no comfort of a soft chest against me. Only a body that feels solid as a wall. That might have something to do with all his gear, though.
“It’s okay, I got you. You’re going to be okay,” he says, grabbing onto my upper arms to steady me. “But we need to get out of here.”
I nod. If he thinks I want to stay in this building a second longer than necessary, he’s got another thing coming.
“James, King,” he says, pressing a button on the radio attached to his jacket. “I’m taking one out. Finish the sweep of this floor then you’re out.” Dropping his hand back to my arm, he looks down at me and for the first time since he opened the door, I see shining blue eyes staring back at me through his mask. “Let’s go.”
An arm is around my waist then and he’s leading me out of the room. As we get into the hallway, there’s a loud bang that causes me to flinch so hard I nearly fall to my knees. The only thing that keeps me upright is the man beside me, and suddenly I’m in the air, being swung into powerful arms that hold me to his body like I weigh nothing. I don’t question it, allowing him to pick me up, my arms automatically going around his neck. I bury myself into him, seeking a comfort and safety that a few minutes ago I wasn’t sure I would live to see.
The next few minutes are a blur. He’s down five flights of stairs and out the door with me before I know what’s happening. Without a word he drops me off with the paramedics who wrap me in a blanket, take my vitals, and throw an oxygen mask on me.
I can’t stop watching the scene before me. The flurry of firefighters working on the fire, another ambulance, and a couple more paramedics. There are people who live in the building, neighbors from around it, and police ensuring no one except the firefighters get too close. There’s so much going on that it’s impossible to follow it all. It’s like I’m in a dream, seeing it all unfold without being there in my body.
I can’t believe I was stuck in the building that I’m now watching burn. The firefighters look like they’re doing a good job at knocking it down, but it’s not like I know anything about fighting a fire, so I could be terribly wrong. All I know is there seems to be a lot less orange now.
“Miss?”
Tearing my gaze from the building, I shake my head and blink a couple of times, focusing on the copper-haired paramedic in front of me. I’m sitting at the end of an ambulance, the blanket she gave me pulled tight around my shoulders. I realize she’s waiting for an answer that I don’t have.
“Sorry?”
“Just wondering if you’re ready to go. You should really have your lungs checked out. Lieutenant Miller said you were trapped.”
I haven’t seen the firefighter—Lieutenant—since he left me with the paramedics, but that doesn’t stop my eyes from looking over the men in uniforms again. Is it customary to thank someone for saving your life before you go to the hospital? Because I’d like to, though I understand that he’s probably pretty busy. I’m not sure I would even know which one he is with all the others running around, though I’m certain if I saw those eyes again, I would know them.
My search for him is halted when I spot my landlord. In a flash, my blood is back to boiling and I’m on my feet, ripping the oxygen mask off my face. The blanket falls from around my shoulders as I stalk towards him without thinking it through.
“You son of a bitch!” I scream in fury. My voice is hoarse, and my throat feels like it’s on fire, but I refuse to let it stop me. “You son of a bitch! I could have died in there!”
The man turns towards me, his eyes filled with surprise, but I see the moment recognition dawns. Both hands come up in defense, his eyes darting around for an escape as his head shakes. From what I know after our brief encounters, the man doesn’t live far from here, something I’m grateful for so I have a chance to give him a piece of my mind.
Words are forming on his lips, but I don’t let him get a single one out.
“I’ve told you over and over again about that door,” I shriek, getting in his personal space, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. I really want to hit him, and it’s taking everything in me not to do so. “But you wouldn’t fix it. You never fix anything! I was trapped because of you. I could have burned alive because of you!”
“It’s not my fault,” he stammers.
I see red. My arm is halfway back to hit the guy when strong arms wrap around me from behind, pulling me away from him. I don’t care. I want this man’s blood on my hands for everything I’ve gone through tonight, and for claiming it isn’t his fault.
As I’m pulled away, I kick, struggle, and scream at my landlord who stands there looking frightened.
“You gotta calm down,” the voice of whomever is holding me says.
That’s a big ask of me right now because calming down is the last thing I want to do. I want to kick my landlord’s ass from here to hell and back. I want him to feel one tenth of the fear I felt in that room. Fear I don’t think I’ve even begun to comprehend. Fear that will settle deep within my bones once all the adrenaline is gone, and I’m left picking up the pieces.
“Breathe,” the voice says, and I recognize it as male as I’m carried behind a fire engine, away from prying eyes. “In, one, two, three, four. Out, four, three, two, one.”
That gets my attention because it’s the same way I calm myself down when I’m panicking. It’s the technique I used when I first freaked out being trapped in that room.
It takes another cycle of him repeating it before I’m following what he tells me, and then I’m doing it on my own without any coaching. It’s another minute before his arms are fully relaxing instead of securing me to his body. Then, with his hand on my arm to steady me, he moves to face me.