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I wonder if…

She dropped to the floor, onto her belly. She wouldn’t make it through with the air tank strapped to her back.

“Rope!” she called out.

Putnam removed the coil of rope that was attached to his turnout gear. Becca began tying the end of it around her waist. Putnam, knowing what Becca was about to do, started playing out the rope behind them.

“When I shake it, pull,” she ordered.

Ge

tting to her knees, she unbuckled the airpack’s harness. Before shrugging it off, she took a long and deep breath of the fresh oxygen from the tank. With her lungs full, she hurriedly removed the harness and the respirator mask. Dropping to her belly, she slithered into the opening, trailing the rope behind her.

She was now in a cave of sorts…a cave made out of twisted metal, chunks of plaster and broken wires. Those damned storage racks must have fallen in such a way to create this little chamber. She only hoped that meant the trapped firefighters hadn’t been crushed. All around her was an odd assortment of various boxed goods: computer mice, high-end cameras, packages of fishnet stockings, flashlights, bras. There were even teddy bears and boxes of Legos. She had to push all these items aside as she continued moving forward, spotting the first fireman quickly.

He had a nasty gash on his head and he didn’t seem conscious. Beyond him, she saw the others who had gone in with the deputy—a tangled heap of men. Fortunately, she could see that more than one of them were moving.

She needed to move fast.

Removing her tactical knife from her utility belt, she cut the air tank harness of the firefighter and managed to push it clear of him. Then, grabbing onto the man’s gear with one hand, she shook the rope with the other, hoping Putnam got the signal. He did. As she started slithering backwards on her own power, she felt herself also being pulled, which helped ease her passage out, especially since she was now dragging over two-hundred pounds of dead weight. It was a lurching return voyage, much slower than her trip inside, but her lungs held and once she had gotten her body out of the passage, other hands reached in to pull out the firefighter she had tugged along with her.

A respirator mask was quickly placed on her face. After taking several much needed gulps of the air, she once more filled her lungs, held it, and crawled back inside.

***

It took Becca four more trips under the collapsed debris to free the others, including the deputy chief. Fortunately, all of the remaining men were conscious and though injured in various ways, able to use some of their own power to help Becca with guiding them out.

By midnight, the fire was under control; by one a.m., it was out. Three civilians had been killed in this one and eleven firefighters injured. The deputy chief’s ankle had been crushed and because he hadn’t been able to hold his breath the entire time Becca was helping him crawl out, he had ended up emerging from the rubble coughing so hard Becca was worried he was going to pass out.

Outside, in the parking lot of the warehouse, which was filled with emergency and medical vehicles, fire and EMT personnel and, of course, reporters, Becca sat on the asphalt, her back against one of the tires of a fire engine. Sitting next to her was Cappy. The pavement under them was wet from all the water expended to fight this blaze, and they were both exhausted, with blackened, smudge-streaked faces. A trickle of blood was flowing from Cappy’s temple.

“You trying to get another Medal of Valor, Chief?” Cappy asked, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“I want a matched set,” Becca replied, tiredly. “I plan on wearing them as earrings.”

“That’s what I like about you, Chief. You’re always so stylish.”

“You know us women, Cappy…we love to accessorize.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“You know,” Cappy began, “for someone who ain’t got balls, you sure got a lot of balls.”

Becca laughed.

“Cappy, are you flirting with me?”

Cappy scoffed.

“Please. Sheila would feed my dick to the dogs.”

Becca had met Cappy’s wife. He was right. He would be a dead man.

“No shit, though,” he continued, “you’re a helluva firefighter, Chief.”

Becca smiled and nudged him.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Cappy.”