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As we approach the fires, the intensity of the situation becomes palpable. The heat is unbearable, and the flames seem to dance wildly, defying any attempts to control them. The smoke billows thick and dark, making it hard to see and even harder to breathe.

In the middle of the chaos, the screams of people trapped in their homes cut through the air, making the situation even more urgent. Firefighters are everywhere, working non-stop to get the fire under control. Ladders are up, water hoses are spraying, and paramedics areon standby, ready to jump in and help.

Victims who have managed to escape the flames are being tended to by paramedics in their vans, their faces filled with shock and fear.

Reynolds shouts over the roar of the fire. “Fucking hell. They need to get these people out now!”

A firefighter beside us chimes in, his face grim with determination. “We’ll go in, mate. Cover for us,” one of them says, his voice steady despite the chaos.

Another firefighter adds, “We’ll get them out. Just keep the area clear for us.”

As they rush toward the house, a series of explosions erupt, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. The windows shatter one by one, adding to the already chaotic scene. The screams and wails for help echo through the air, sending a chill down my spine.

My heart drops out of my chest as I watch the firefighters disappear into the burning building, knowing the dangers they face. Reynolds and I stand ready, our eyes fixed on the house, waiting for any sign of the firefighters and the people they’re trying to rescue.

Meanwhile, Woody and Stokes are doing their best to control the traffic, but the situation is quickly spiralling out of control. Faulkner’s voice crackles over the radio. “We need backup! The fire’s spreading faster than we can contain it!”

I grit my teeth, feeling the strain of the situation weighing heavily on me. “We need to work fast. Lives are at stake here.”

As I say this, a firefighter returns, running out with a woman under his arm, covered in soot, and her clothes burnt and singed.Behind him, another firefighter holds a young boy, who is screaming and crying. The boy looks to be around ten or eleven years old.

Fucking hell.

More screams break out as the team spreads out to the other home beside this one. Faulkner’s voice comes through the radios strapped to our chests. “Stay focused, boys. We’re sending more backup. Just hold on tight. I’ll be there in five.”

Suddenly, I spot movement in a window on the second floor. “Copy Radio. All units, I spot movement, second floor. There might be someone still trapped inside.”

Faulkner appears beside me after a few minutes, asking, “Where? Point.”

I point to the window, and as I do, the same woman we just pulled out screams, her cries louder than a banshee. “My HUSBAND! He’s still INSIDE. He’s with my d-daughter. Please HELP THEM!” Her voice cracks, and my eyes widen.

Without hesitation, I run up to the woman and ask, “Your daughter is still inside? And your husband?”

“Yes! Please help them!”

At the same time, a firefighter comes to her, saying, “We’re doing everything we can, Miss. That part of the house has been compromised. The staircase leading up to that room has collapsed. We’ll need to get them from the outside.” She’s inconsolable.

“NO! PLEASE! You have to go in. Please save them.” The firefighter takes off his helmet. “I assure you, our team is doing everything we can right now.” She starts wailing.

“How old is your daughter?” I ask, remaining calm.

“She’s three. Please,God. She’s only THREE.”

My heart drops. Three-fucking-years-old.

At such a young age, this little girl can’t comprehend what’s happening, and she must be completely petrified. My heart cracks, and immediately my mind goes to Millie, Amelia’s niece.

She’s the same age. Fuck.

My body turns cold at the thought. Springing into action, I turn to the firefighter. “Get in there. Do what you need to do now!”

“Now, mate. Calm down. I have my boys assessing the situation.”

“You don’t fucking have time! She’s three years old. Get to the window, get them to open it from the inside, pull them out.”

Fuck, it’s not my job to be thinking of this. It’stheirs.

I understand they’re in dire circumstances.