Around eleven, Gil came into the kitchen for his second cup of coffee. He looked over her shoulder as she stirred the cake ingredients furiously in the bowl. Smiling, he wiped a smudge of flour off her cheek.
“Anyone ever tell you how nice you look in the kitchen?”
She glanced at him. “Watch it or I’ll get flour on you, too,” she warned.
He sipped his coffee, leaning against the draining board and watching her with interest. “I didn’t mean it as a chauvinistic remark. Your cheeks are flushed and the hair around your temples has curled from the sweat you’ve worked up by beating that poor mix to death.”
She grinned as she poured the batter into an oblong pan. After wiping her hands on the poor tattered excuse of an apron she wore, she placed the cake in the oven. “Just watch what you say or I’m liable to give you no dessert, fella.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. Gil joined her.
“Dessert comes in many forms,” he replied enigmatically. “Watching you is dessert, lady.”
The sudden huskiness of his voice sent a delicious wave of pleasure through her. “And I still think you’ve got a degree in blarney, Lieutenant Gerard.”
“Just so you don’t think last night was blarney,” he murmured seriously.
She blushed, shaking her head. Making sure that no one could hear them, she said, “Let’s not talk about that here.” Then, in a louder tone, she added, “I don’t know what happened today, Gil, but they’re sure acting differently toward me.”
“I think it was a combination of the picnic and your cooking,” he conceded.
She raised her eyes upward. “Oh, God, don’t say that! I’ve worked so long and hard to prove myself and acceptance still boils down to pleasing their stomachs and getting along with children? I think I’ll go slit my wrists!”
He smiled. “I told you time would take care of it, didn’t I? But I have to admit, everyone’s humor has improved since you started cooking for us.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then I was right, you are stacking that damn deck of cards.”
He rose, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Me?” he asked innocently.
Leah uttered an expletive under her breath. “Now you are going to get it for sure, Gil Gerard.”
“You’ll personally give it to me?”
She met his glittering eyes. “In spades, fella. In spades,” she promised, unable to suppress a smile.
“Just name the time and place, I’ll be there.”
“It isn’t what you think it is,” she warned, trying to maintain her threatening posture.
He appraised her slowly, his eyes lingering on her tall slender body. “Don’t bet on it,” he whispered. “Remember what happened last night.” With that he put the empty cup on the draining board and sauntered out, a self-satisfied look on his handsome features. Leah laughed softly, recalling all too well the ecstasy they had shared.
They had no more than finished their lunch when the fire alarm droned through the bay.
“Dammit!” Apache howled, leaping off his chair.
“They plan this!” Sam swore, scraping his chair back and rising.
Leah compressed her lips. Adrenaline was shooting through her.
STRUCTURE FIRE AT 55 NORTH BRAD-FIELD, the dispatcher announced.
They all ran for their gear simultaneously. Sam jerked on his turn-out coat as he ran for Lady. A moment later he was starting the engine. She roared to life, filling the bay with the deep growl of the diesel engine, echoing off the walls.
“Leah and Apache,” Gil directed, “air pak.”
Leah gave him a stare as she trotted past him. It was the first time he had ever allowed her to be on the first team in a major structure fire. Her blood pumped strongly as she sprang up on the running board and threw herself into the jump seat. Apache leaped into the seat across from her, still muttering.
“Dammit, I ate too much. I hope I don’t throw up. Damn! I don’t wanna lose this lunch.” He glanced up at her. “Hell of a lunch, Leah.”
The engine revved up; lights whirled and the siren started to wail as they pulled out into the blinding sunlight. When Leah had tightened her shoulder straps, she looked up at Apache. “Thanks,” she called.
She tried to talk herself out of her nervousness. First team! God, she couldn’t let Gil or Apache down! She ran over the air pak procedure, testing the equipment twice to make sure everything was in good working order. The engine swung heavily around street corners, its air horn blasting several times when motorists wouldn’t yield to the truck. Anxiously, Leah searched for the telltale smoke. As they headed out of the major part of the city toward the middle-class suburbs, she saw gray-and-black columns hanging a hundred feet above the trees in the distance. Her mind raced with possibilities: were there kids home? A mother? How about a senile older person who couldn’t walk or was bedridden? The smoke would kill them within minutes if they were trapped. She began to recite a familiar litany over and over again: Please God, don’t let there be any children in there. Adults had the presence of mind, the strength, and the larger lung capacity to withstand smoke, heat and a crisis much better than a child. A child, she knew, frequently froze or hid. Either way, the child could die because of improper fire training by his parents. Leah twisted her gloved hands together in her lap, aware of the tenseness that always inhabited her before they arrived at the scene. Once there, she would relax. It was the not knowing that made her so anxious.
When they arrived Saxon wrapped the hydrant, which was a good two hundred yards from the two-story house. Leah jumped off the engine and quickly assessed the house. Smoke was leaking out beneath the eaves, which meant heavy heat buildup. She searched for people….
“Grab that two and a half and take it up to the front door,” Gil ordered Apache.
A frightened young girl of fourteen was screaming near the front door. Several other people ran up. An older woman grabbed Gil’s arm.
“There’s a kid in there!”
“How many?” he asked, his voice suddenly devoid of emotion.
“The mother’s at work. She leaves the two of them with her,” the woman cried, pointing at the babysitter. “Oh, Lordy…”
Leah bit back a cry and looked toward the house. They had to hurry! Oh, God, no…no…
Her heart began to pound unevenly and it seemed as if everything was a mass of confusion around her. The girl and the woman were screaming at Gil and then Gil was ordering an ambulance and calling in a second alarm. She and Apache dragged the two and a half up to the door, approaching it cautiously. In the distance more sirens wailed mournfully in the humid noon heat. Leah was taking larger gulps of oxygen from her air pak. They approached the door and knelt down by it. Apache gingerly twisted the knob. The door flew open; smoke spewed out in large ugly clouds. He motioned to her.
“Let’s go!”
Gil ran up to them, gripped Apache’s shoulder, and leaned over. “Go to the right. The babysitter says the two kids were asleep in the last room to the right,” he shouted.
Suddenly the charged hose seemed light to Leah as she helped haul it into the darkness of the house. The heat was intense; the skin on the back of her neck was smarting. Leah could hear the roaring of the flames somewhere to their left, the creaking of burning timbers, and a heavy, dropping sound. Simultaneously, she was aware of windows being broken to ventilate the house. More shouts could be heard in the cottony darkness as they groped their way forward into the last room on the right.
Apache found the first bed. He grabbed Leah’s coat frantically. “Here!” he cried, his voice muffled by the mask he wore. “Take the kid. Find a window. Get him out!”
She didn’t know if the inert form was a boy or girl. Cradling the small child against her body, she crawled on one hand and her knees around the end of the bed. Using her outstretched hand, she blindly followed the wall until she found a windowsill. There was no time to try to find a latch. She laid the child down at her knees and fumbled for the spanner wrench she always carried in her pocket. Finding it, Leah protected the child from the shattering glass as she smashed out the window with the wrench. Instantly she heard another fire fighter’s voice. Forcing herself up on her knees, she leaned out the smoky window yelling, “I’ve got one of them! Take him!”
She handed the unconscious child through the window and then got back down on all fours, crawling along the wall, trying to find her partner. Sweat stung her eyes and she gasped deeply. Saliva trickled from the corners of her mouth as she searched the gray blackness for Apache.
“Apache!” she cried, stopping. Where was he! Damn, he should have remained with her! Never lose contact with a team member. He could be in trouble and she would never know it. “Apache!” she screamed until her voice cracked from the strain. Doggedly, she followed the wall, praying she would run into the second bed. He would be there, she thought desperately, trying to find the second child. She yelled again and again. A new sense of dread overwhelmed Leah, and she crawled faster, keeping one hand stretched outward, hoping to come into contact with furniture or a body.
She ran into him full force. Grabbing him she cried, “Apache?”
“Yeah, yeah. I got the other one. Where the hell’s the window?”
She hesitated, sobbing for breath. In smoke, disorientation was commonplace and she had been trained to follow walls and not rely on her memory. “This way,” she called. “Grab my ankle.”
Apache grabbed the leg of her bunker pants and they made their way back around the wall. The MSA bell on her air pak started ringing wildly, alerting her that she had only three minutes of air left. Her pulse skyrocketed and she frantically tried to hurry, but it was impossible because Apache was dragging the child with him. Leah tried to limit herself to taking half breaths. It was damn near impossible under the circumstances and she desperately hugged the wall, trying to locate the window. The MSA Apache was wearing began to ring too. The sound of the bells clamored terrifyingly in the smoke.
It was an eternity before she found the window. Without thinking, Leah shoved Apache and the child ahead of her. Suddenly, her air was gone and she sucked deeply, trying to breathe. Blindly, she helped to lift the child up. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to remain calm, to loosen the emergency bypass valve on the regulator so that she could get the last vestiges of oxygen. She felt Apache get up and then he was gone, having escaped to safety through the window. Blackness tinged her vision as she rose up on her knees. Oxygen starved, she fumbled, her gloved fingers splayed outward, reaching for the window. Wildly, she clawed at the suffocating air mask.
Strong hands gripped her by the shoulders and Leah was dragged forcefully through the broken window. She landed hard, hitting the ground and then rolling over on her back, clawing at her mask. Darkness closed in on her and panic consumed her. She had no strength left to even unscrew the hose from the regulator. Voices…men yelling…someone jerking at her air pak harness…it all melded together. Suddenly fresh air flowed up into the mask and she panted, taking shallow, ragged breaths. Her eyes fluttered open. Too weak to move, she was vaguely aware of someone loosening the straps of the air mask, pulling it off her face. The sunlight made her squint and she rolled over on her side, gagging. She lay crumpled in a fetal position like a rag doll, vomiting. She was only aware that someone remained at her side, his hand protectively resting on her shoulder.
Got to stop hyperventilating, she thought dazedly, utterly spent. She heard Saxon’s strained voice yelling over the cacophony sounds. The man above her answered and she realized it was Gil. Leah continued to gasp, eyes tightly shut.
“Leah?” he called, bending over her, his eyes dark with worry. “Babe, are you all right?”
She shook her head. Her lungs ached, her stomach roiled and knotted threateningly. “Air,” she whispered hoarsely.
More noises. Ambulances, fire engine sirens, the pumps screaming like shrill banshees, the cry of men under stress. She heard Gil ordering a resuscitator. Leah sobbed for breath, aware of his hand on her shoulder. It seemed only seconds before he pulled her over onto her back and placed a plastic face piece over her mouth and nose.
“Breathe deep,” Gil ordered, “it’s pure oxygen.”
She did as she was instructed and was surprised at how quickly her head began to clear. Within a few minutes he had her sitting up while she took deep breaths of the life-giving air. She looked up to see ladders leaning against the second-story window. Fire fighters wearing air paks and carrying hoses were coming down from it. The smoke was dissipating. She saw Apache lying prostrate nearby, his face haggard and streaked with gray, greasy smoke. A paramedic ran up and knelt at his side, giving him oxygen to help revive him more quickly.
Gil rose to his full height, watching her worriedly. “I’ve got to help the chief, Leah. Stay here until I tell you to move.”
You won’t get any arguments out of me, she thought wearily. Her attention was drawn to the ambulance and it took several minutes before her mind would function properly. The children! Without thinking, she staggered drunkenly to her feet and moved toward the two units. She was oblivious to the fact that she was still wearing her air pak. All she cared about was finding out the condition of the children. As she drew near the ambulances, she heard a woman crying hysterically and someone else shouting at her.
Three paramedics were working over a small red-haired child of three or so and another of about six. The mother, no older than twenty-five, was screaming, her fingers digging into her skull as she watched in horror. Leah swallowed against rising bile, her gaze riveted to the children. It wasn’t fair! Anger more chilling and frustrating than anything she could ever express rose up in her. They couldn’t die! She and Apache had rescued them…they should live. God wouldn’t let them die!
The paramedics were grim faced, their words limited to terse orders for other instruments or equipment. The IVs were being suspended above the children, making the whole scene look grotesque and surrealistic. The mother continued to hover hysterically over the men working with her children. She grabbed at one paramedic’s arm and he jerked away, anger clearly written in his expression. The woman was momentarily taken aback and turned, her eyes wild as she spotted Leah standing nearby.