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The team was in motion.
“Show me, Max.” Halo took point, the team falling in behind him.
As they pounded down the pavement, the people flowed out of their way, clearing the route.
Up ahead, men’s voices raised, yelling in the frantic way that happens as a catastrophe unfolds.
The team rounded an enormous wall into the old district. Many of the buildings had been there since the 13th century. On this road, it looked like they had additional modern stories on top of the ancient buildings.
Oily smoke billowed black clouds billowed from one of the top windows.
“On the enclosed balcony, one female and two pre-school-aged children,” Nutsbe called out. With his binoculars raised, he scanned across the floor and into the four corners so no one was overlooked. “No pets.”
Appraising the architecture and the space between the windows, it was going to be a tough go. An extraction would have to happen from the exterior. Without firefighter equipment, no one was getting through the interior blaze. Halo tipped his head and focused on the traffic sounds. No sirens sliced the air, letting them know a ladder was on its way. And there was no time to waste.
Those around them saw the Iniquus uniforms, their packs, and possibly even their size and assumed the team had the ability to make the rescue.
The crowd of faces, all painted with horror, looked upward where the trapped woman was swinging a café chair like a hatchet, chopping at the glass.
The roof above the victims opened with a volcano of sparks. Flames licked skyward. Halo watched as the glass enclosure filled with smoke, clouding the family behind the density.
That mother was desperate for air.
She needed it. Her children needed it.
But the same air that would preserve their lives, even for a short time more, would also feed that fire. It would roar stronger and hotter with the increased oxygen.
It was one of those terrible no-choice moments when you had to do the wrong thing to have any hope of survival. There was no way to breathe or be rescued until that glass broke.
“Get everyone clear,” Titus yelled. “When the glass gives, the shards will rain down on everyone below.”
The team spread their arms and pressed the people back. The citizens quickly got the idea and complied. With the people well out of the way, Panther Force positioned under the balcony. Max was in a down-stay up against the wall, Halo curving his body protectively over his dog.
With a massive crash, the glass gave way.
The chair flew through the air, hitting the cobbled street and bouncing high again from the sheer velocity.
The glass twinkled down like an ice storm.
Coming out from under the protection of the overhang, Halo locked eyes on the little kids as they clung to the bars, pressing their faces through, gasping. Halo would guess the boys were three, maybe four years old.
“I’m going to take the pole up.” Titus curved toward the flagpole. “And see if I can’t throw her a line to feed through the bars and have the woman throw it back to me. Then I can swing my way over.” He reached for Nutsbe’s binoculars and scanned the situation. “That ledge outside of the bars looks like it's wide enough to get my feet squarely in place. I’ll use the bolt cutters to open the bars enough to get them out. Kids are coming first. I’ll need more rope.”
They each reached into their pack and grabbed their climb kit.
Titus popped magnetic comms buds into his ear canals and slid the pressure mic over his head and under his shirt. The team did the same.
Titus pointed at Nutsbe.
Nutsbe reached for his radio. “Nutsbe. Comms check One. Two. Three.”
Pressing his sternal button, he responded, “Titus. Loud and clear.”
Nutsbe gave him a thumbs up, and Titus was moving.
Shoving two extra coils of webbing into the net pockets on the sides of his rucksack, tightening the pack on his back, Titus stepped forward, dragging on the tactical gloves with the grip material on the palm and thumbs that helped operators stick when they fast roped into a situation. Pinching the pole between his boots, he dragged himself upward, hand over hand. He’d made it past the second window, shimmying toward the family when Nutsbe used the radio to call him back down. The farther up the pole Titus scrambled, the more his weight made the base tip out of the ground. Titus looked up and down then over to the window frame on the building, assessed, then slid to the ground.
There was nothing for him to do but abandon that route.