second-floor apartments. He did the same on the third floor as he, Armando, and Sully kept humping up the stairs to the fourth floor.
The top floor was filled with smoke and the flash of flames. They lowered face pieces, connected their SCBAair-tank hoses, and pierced the increasing heat and smoke as Morning sent Armando and Sully to search the front apartments for victims.
Crawling through the smoke toward the rear of the building, Morning could see the grilles and pipes discharging smoke and fire. The emergency was staged, but the smoke and flames were plenty real. Another scream came from the end of the hallway and to his right. He dodged a jet of fire, and the sprays of water now coming through the windows and a hole newly opened in the roof.
Down in the command truck, a technician was trying to figure out why all of the cameras were down and the dozen video screens were black.
“How can I bust my probies’ butts,” Clancy yelled at the tech, “if I can’t see ’em screwin’ up?” The tech protested that everything had been working fine the day before, but he got shouted down by Clancy. “Fix it!”
As Morning heard Armando and Sully banging open doors with their Halligans, he made it to the last apartment. Another scream came from inside. He wondered what horror movie the fire academy had gotten the screams from and figured Cody would probably know the answer.
He stood up in the swirling smoke and pulled back his Halligan to ram it into the doorjamb. Then he remembered one of the first rules of firefighting: try before you pry. He turned the knob and pushed the door open against the cushion of heat. He lowered his head into the heat blast, hit the floor, and crawled into what looked and felt like a fiery, smoking oven. That or the mouth of the red dragon.
Crawling and feeling his way around the perimeter, he hit a pile of clothes. His ax got tangled in it and he fell, almost impaling his face piece with the blade.
Great
, hethought,
when everyone sees that, they’re gonna have a laugh over the probie who could even screw up a crawl
.
Through the billowing smoke, the shape of a bed appeared as a strangled scream choked to coughing gasps. Morning was startled by the lengths the academy went to re-create the sounds of a smoke-inhalation victim before he or she passed out. He could just make out the silhouette of the dummy on the bed. But it was seated with its back against the bed frame.
Something’s not right
, he thought.
Why isn’t the mannequin on the floor, where any victim would be as they tried to stay below the heat and smoke?
The dummy’s body slumped forward and the realization hit Morning like backdraft. It was no dummy. It was a young woman with long dark hair. It was
Portia
.
In an instant, the fiery oven of the room became the red dragon. And he was in the grip of the crimson terror. He yelled into his comm device for Armando and Sully, then sucked in a deep breath. He yanked off his face piece and jerked it onto Portia’s head. Then he saw why she wasn’t on the floor. She was duct-taped to the metal bed frame. He ripped at the tape. Her head lolled into him as she groaned back to consciousness.
He yanked her away from the frame and they rolled to the floor. For a second he saw her terrified eyes through the face piece. He pulled her onto his back and turtle-crawled toward the door.
As soon as they reached the hall, now clearing of smoke and fire, he gulped a lungful of air and rolled Portia off his back. She started to get up, but he pushed her back down, shouting, “On your belly!”
Smoldering lines zebraed the back of her jacket where the metal frame had become so hot it had started to meltand burn the fleece. Morning threw off his gloves, grabbed the jacket’s back, and ripped away the smoldering panel.
Armando and Sully ran up. “Holy shit!” Armando hit his comm device and barked into it. “Status change: it’s no dummy, it’s a live one! Abort the
The top floor was filled with smoke and the flash of flames. They lowered face pieces, connected their SCBAair-tank hoses, and pierced the increasing heat and smoke as Morning sent Armando and Sully to search the front apartments for victims.
Crawling through the smoke toward the rear of the building, Morning could see the grilles and pipes discharging smoke and fire. The emergency was staged, but the smoke and flames were plenty real. Another scream came from the end of the hallway and to his right. He dodged a jet of fire, and the sprays of water now coming through the windows and a hole newly opened in the roof.
Down in the command truck, a technician was trying to figure out why all of the cameras were down and the dozen video screens were black.
“How can I bust my probies’ butts,” Clancy yelled at the tech, “if I can’t see ’em screwin’ up?” The tech protested that everything had been working fine the day before, but he got shouted down by Clancy. “Fix it!”
As Morning heard Armando and Sully banging open doors with their Halligans, he made it to the last apartment. Another scream came from inside. He wondered what horror movie the fire academy had gotten the screams from and figured Cody would probably know the answer.
He stood up in the swirling smoke and pulled back his Halligan to ram it into the doorjamb. Then he remembered one of the first rules of firefighting: try before you pry. He turned the knob and pushed the door open against the cushion of heat. He lowered his head into the heat blast, hit the floor, and crawled into what looked and felt like a fiery, smoking oven. That or the mouth of the red dragon.
Crawling and feeling his way around the perimeter, he hit a pile of clothes. His ax got tangled in it and he fell, almost impaling his face piece with the blade.
Great
, hethought,
when everyone sees that, they’re gonna have a laugh over the probie who could even screw up a crawl
.
Through the billowing smoke, the shape of a bed appeared as a strangled scream choked to coughing gasps. Morning was startled by the lengths the academy went to re-create the sounds of a smoke-inhalation victim before he or she passed out. He could just make out the silhouette of the dummy on the bed. But it was seated with its back against the bed frame.
Something’s not right
, he thought.
Why isn’t the mannequin on the floor, where any victim would be as they tried to stay below the heat and smoke?
The dummy’s body slumped forward and the realization hit Morning like backdraft. It was no dummy. It was a young woman with long dark hair. It was
Portia
.
In an instant, the fiery oven of the room became the red dragon. And he was in the grip of the crimson terror. He yelled into his comm device for Armando and Sully, then sucked in a deep breath. He yanked off his face piece and jerked it onto Portia’s head. Then he saw why she wasn’t on the floor. She was duct-taped to the metal bed frame. He ripped at the tape. Her head lolled into him as she groaned back to consciousness.
He yanked her away from the frame and they rolled to the floor. For a second he saw her terrified eyes through the face piece. He pulled her onto his back and turtle-crawled toward the door.
As soon as they reached the hall, now clearing of smoke and fire, he gulped a lungful of air and rolled Portia off his back. She started to get up, but he pushed her back down, shouting, “On your belly!”
Smoldering lines zebraed the back of her jacket where the metal frame had become so hot it had started to meltand burn the fleece. Morning threw off his gloves, grabbed the jacket’s back, and ripped away the smoldering panel.
Armando and Sully ran up. “Holy shit!” Armando hit his comm device and barked into it. “Status change: it’s no dummy, it’s a live one! Abort the
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