Redemption (46 page)

His partner had to be somewhere nearby, but they’d separated to make the room checks more quickly. Now the fire had grown so intense, he wasn’t sure they’d ever find each other in time. Landon grabbed his radio from its pocket on his upper jacket and positioned it near his air mask. Then he turned a valve so his words would be understood.

“Mayday . . . Mayday . . .”

He stuck the radio close to his ear and waited, but only a crackling static answered him. A few seconds passed, and the voice of his captain sounded on the radio.

“Lieutenant Blake, report your whereabouts.”

Hope flashed in Landon’s heart. He placed the radio near the valve in his mask once more. “Lieutenant Blake reporting Mayday, sir. I can’t find my way out.”

There was a pause. “Lieutenant Blake, report your whereabouts.”

Landon’s stomach tightened. “I’m on the second floor, sir. Can you hear me?”

“Lieutenant Blake, this is your captain. Report your whereabouts immediately.” A brief hesitation followed; then the captain’s tone grew urgent. “RIT enter the building now! Report to the second floor. I repeat, RIT report to the second floor.”

RIT?
Landon forced himself to breathe normally. RIT was the Rapid Intervention Team, the two firefighters who waited on alert at any job in case someone from the engine company became lost in the fire. The command could mean only one thing: Landon’s radio wasn’t working. His captain had no idea that he’d become separated from his partner or where to begin looking for him.

Landon made his way into the smoky hallway and heard his radio come to life again. He held it close to his ear.

“This is an alert. We have two men trapped on the second floor, and the radios aren’t working for either of them. Backup units are on the way, but until then I need everyone in the building. Let’s move it!”

So he was right. The radios weren’t working.
Dear God, help us. . . .

Landon fought off a wave of fear. In situations like this he’d been trained to scan the room for victims and then fight his way out of the building. Choose the most likely place for an exit and barge through burning beams and broken glass. Do whatever it took to be free of the building.

But Landon had gone back into the building for one reason: to find a five-year-old boy in one of the apartments. He would find the child—dead or alive—and bring him out. He had promised the boy’s frantic mother, and he didn’t intend to break the promise.

The smoke grew dense, dropping visibility to almost nothing. Landon fell to his knees and crawled along the floor. The flames roared on either side of him, filling his senses with intense heat and smoke.
Don’t think about the broken radios. They’ll find me any minute. Help is on the way.
Please, God.

He still had his personal accountability safety system, a box on his air pack that would send out a high-pitched sound the moment he stopped moving. If that signal worked, there was still a pretty good chance his engine company might locate him. But they’d have to get here fast. If they waited much longer, ceiling beams would begin to fall. And then . . .

Landon squinted through the smoke, his body heaving from the excruciating heat and the weight of his equipment.
God, help me.
He crept through a burning hallway door.
I need a miracle. Show me the boy.

Just ahead of him he saw something fall to the ground—something small, the size of a ceiling tile or maybe a wall hanging. Or a small child. Landon lurched ahead and there, at the bottom of a linen closet, he found the boy and rolled him onto his back. He held a glove against the boy’s chest and felt a faint rise and fall.

The child was alive!

Landon jerked the air mask from his own face and shoved it onto the boy’s. He switched the mask from demand to positive pressure, forcing a burst of air onto the child’s face. The boy must have hidden in the closet when the fire started, and now here they were—both trapped. Landon coughed hard and tried to breathe into his coat as the acrid smoke invaded his lungs.

Then he heard crashing sounds around him, and he glanced up.
No, God, not now.

Flaming pieces of the ceiling were beginning to fall! He hovered over the child and used his body as a covering. Inches from the boy’s face, he was struck by the resemblance. The boy looked like a slightly older version of Cole, Ashley’s son.

“Hang in there, buddy!” Landon yelled above the roar of the fire. He removed the mask from the boy for just an instant and held the child’s nose while he grabbed another precious lungful of air. Then he quickly replaced the mask over the boy’s face. “They’re coming for us.”

He heard a cracking sound so loud and violent it shook the room. Before Landon could move, a ceiling beam fell from the roof and hit him across the back of his legs. He felt something snap deep inside his right thigh, and pain exploded through his body.
Move,
he ordered himself. He strained and pushed and tried to leverage the beam off his leg. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get free. His legs were pinned by the burning wood.

“God!” The pain intensified, and he reeled his head back, his jaw clenched. “Help us!”

He fought to stay conscious as he lowered himself over the boy once more. His training had taught him to limit his inhalations, but his lungs screamed for air, and he sucked in another deep breath. The smoke was choking him, filling his body with poisonous fumes and gasses that would kill him in a matter of minutes—if the falling debris didn’t bury them first.

His air tank was still half full, so the boy should be breathing okay—as long as Landon stayed conscious enough to buddy-breathe with him.

The heat was oppressive. The visor on his helmet was designed to melt at 350 degrees—a warning that a firefighter was in a dangerous situation. Landon glanced up and saw a slow, steady drip of plastic coming from just above his forehead.

This is it. There’s no way out.

He could feel himself slipping away, sense himself falling asleep. He borrowed the mask once more, gulped in one more breath of air, then firmly placed the mask back on the child’s face.
Keep me awake, God . . . please.
He meant to say the words out loud, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Gradually, the pain and noise and heat around him began to dim.

I’m dying,
he thought.
We’re both going to die.

And in the shadows of his mind he thought about the things he’d miss. Being a husband someday, and a father. Growing old beside a woman who loved him, standing beside her through the years, watching their children grow up.

A memory came to him, sweet and clear. His mother, frowning when she first learned of his intention to fight fires. “I worry about you, Landon. Be careful.”

He had smiled and kissed her forehead. “God wants me to be a firefighter, Mom. He’ll keep me safe. Besides, he knows the number of my days. Isn’t that what you always say?”

The memory faded as smoke burned its way down his throat again. A dark numbness settled over Landon’s mind, and he was struck by an overwhelming sadness. He held his breath, the smoke strangling what little life remained in him. He no longer had the strength to choke out even a single cough, to try for even one more breath of clean air.
So this is it, God. This is it.

His impending death filled him not with fear, but with bittersweet peace. He had always known the risks of being a firefighter. He accepted them gladly every day when he climbed into his uniform. If this fire meant that his days were up, then Landon had no regrets.

Except one.

He hadn’t gotten to tell Ashley Baxter good-bye.

Postscript

A Word from Karen Kingsbury

When Gary Smalley contacted me about writing fiction with him, I was thrilled.

When he said, “Think series,” I went blank.

For weeks I prayed about the series idea, asking God to show me a group of plots that would best exemplify relational truths taught by Gary Smalley and the staff at the Smalley Relationship Center.

Ideas would come, but they seemed too small for something as big and life-changing as the dream Gary and I had come to share.

Then one day I was on a flight home from Colorado Springs when God literally gave me the Redemption series—titles, plots, characters, themes, story lines, and all. All of it poured out into my notebook while goose bumps flashed up and down my spine.

Generally I don’t find myself crying when I write a synopsis for a novel. I can imagine the tears it might bring. I know where the story will most affect my heart. But I don’t actually weep.

On that flight, though, the tears came steadily. I could literally see the Baxter family, each person, and in those hours I came to know them—their fears and desires, their strengths and weaknesses, the things that would devastate them and the things that would give them hope. I cried for all this series would put the Baxter family through. But I also cried for the ways they would emerge victorious because of their understanding of love—and because of God’s merciful redemption.

In some ways, the books in the Redemption series will read like many of my other novels. The characters will be flawed, their problems the same ones you and I face despite our faith. Normally I do not leave my readers wondering what happened to the characters. But in the case of the Redemption series some questions will always be left unanswered, some issues unresolved until the very end. In some ways I wish I could tell you now what will become of John and Elizabeth, Brooke, Kari, Ashley, Erin, and Luke.

But I can’t.

The books that lie ahead are written on the pages of Gary’s heart and mine, but they have yet to be typed across the pages of my computer screen. As they emerge, we will bring them to you.

Bookstore shelves are filled with all sorts of novels, but my favorite ones always contain a love story. Not the lighthearted boy-meets-girl tale, but the story of heartrending, unforgettable love. Real love. I believe that’s what God gave me that day on the plane—a series of real love stories that have the power to change the way we feel and think and love.

My prayer and Gary’s is that as you enjoy the Redemption series, you will gain a deeper understanding of how God can redeem broken relationships, how love shines its brightest in the shadow of his presence. Perhaps in riding out the next few years with the Baxters, you’ll find yourself expressing your new understanding in your own relationships.

And maybe, just maybe, the Redemption series will help change the way you live together. The way you love.

I leave you with the message of
Redemption
—that no matter who you are or where you’ve been, no matter the roads you’ve traveled, God loves you and wants to be in a deep relationship with you. The Bible tells us that God “is passionate about his relationship with you” (Exodus 34:14, NLT). He cares so much about restoring your relationship with him that he sent his own Son to the cross to redeem you. The Bible says that accepting God’s gift of redemption is the first step toward a restored relationship with him.

If you need to know more about the redemption God has for you, I urge you to contact your local Bible-believing church and talk to a pastor—someone like Pastor Mark at Clear Creek Community Church. Then make a decision to accept that redemption while God’s salvation can still deeply affect your life.

But don’t wait. The truth is, we often don’t have much time to make things right. If we ignore God’s redemption here and now, tomorrow might be too late. The best time to say yes to God, yes to a restored relationship with him and others in your life, is always now.

Thank you for traveling the pages of
Redemption
with us. I hope you’ll pass this book on to someone else, then keep your eyes open for
Remember
, book two in the Redemption series.

In the meantime, may this find you walking close to God, enjoying the journey of life, and celebrating his gift of redemption.

As always, I’d love to hear from you. Please write to me at [email protected] or visit www.KarenKingsbury.com.

Blessings to you and yours, humbly,

Karen Kingsbury

A Word from Gary Smalley