Page 17 of Save Me (The Midnight Cove #2)

GUNNER

I 'm sitting in the fire engine facing backward.

Which means I see Amy and Rosa watching me as we drive away.

The fear in Amy's face causes my stomach to contract.

I can't even begin to think what she's feeling.

With her husband, she didn't watch him leap into action to run toward danger, and that's exactly what she just did with me.

"You okay?" Ash asks, from where he sits beside me.

"Good, just wasn't prepared for them to see this."

He shrugs. "It's a part of our lives, brother. It's not like we can change who we are."

And if those aren't the truest words ever spoken, I don't know what is.

The radio crackles to life, dispatch updating us on the situation at Grandview Inn.

Structure fire, fully involved second floor, possible occupants trapped.

My blood runs cold. The Grandview has been a fixture in our town for over a century, and Mrs. Henderson, who owns it, is like everyone's grandmother.

"ETA three minutes," Mark calls from the driver's seat, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

I can already smell the smoke through the closed windows of the engine. It's acrid, bitter, carrying the scent of burning wood. It makes my gut twist.

When we round the corner onto Main Street, the scene plays out in front of us.

Flames are shooting from the second-story windows of the inn, orange tongues licking at the white trim work that Mrs. Henderson spent years restoring.

Black smoke billows into the sky, and I can feel the heat even from here.

"Jesus," Ash breathes beside me.

Mark pulls the engine to a stop, and we're out before the wheels stop rolling. The heat hits me immediately, even through my gear. This isn't just a room fire—this thing is hungry, and it's feeding on everything the old building has to offer.

Chief Williams is already on scene with Engine Two, directing water onto the front of the structure. He catches sight of us and waves us over.

"Henderson's accounted for—she's at the hospital getting checked for smoke inhalation," he shouts over the roar of flames and diesel engines. "But we've got a problem. The fire started on the second floor and it's moving fast. If we don't get ahead of it, we're going to lose the whole structure."

I nod, already pulling on my mask. The familiar weight of the air pack settles onto my shoulders, and I check my gauge. Full bottle, which is exactly what I want.

"Gunner, Ash, I want you two on interior attack. Take the front entrance, work your way to the staircase. Mark, you're on the line with them. I'll coordinate from out here."

"Copy that, Chief."

We grab the line off Engine One, and I feel the familiar surge of adrenaline that comes before every interior attack. This is what we train for, what we live for. The moment when everything else falls away and it's just you, your brothers, and the fire.

The front door of the inn hangs open, smoke pouring out like a fire-breathing dragon. Through my mask, I can hear my own breathing, steady and controlled. Beside me, Ash gives me a thumbs up, and Mark takes position at the door with the line.

"Water!" I call, and Mark opens the nozzle. The stream arcs into the smoky interior, and we move forward.

Inside the Grandview, the world becomes like another world. The smoke is thick enough that even with my thermal imaging camera, visibility is maybe three feet. The familiar lobby of the inn—with its antique furniture—has become a maze of superheated air and hidden dangers.

"Stay low," I tell Ash through the radio, though he already knows. We move in a crouch, feeling our way along the wall toward where we know the staircase should be.

The heat is intense, even through our gear. I can feel sweat already starting to bead on my forehead inside my mask. The fire is somewhere above us, but heat travels, and it's turning the first floor into an oven.

"There," Ash points through the smoke. The outline of the staircase emerges from the gray haze, but what I see makes my blood run cold. Flames are already starting to lick down the stairs, reaching hungry fingers toward the first floor.

"Mark, we need water on the stairs now."

The stream of water hisses as it hits the burning wood, sending up clouds of steam that mix with the smoke. For a moment, the flames retreat, and we have our opening.

"Go, go, go!"

We push forward, Mark behind us with the line. The stairs creak ominously under our weight, and I can feel the heat radiating through the soles of my boots. Halfway up, the smoke clears just enough for me to get a good look at what we're facing.

The second floor is fully involved. Flames are rolling across the ceiling in waves, and I can hear the sound of windows breaking as the fire seeks oxygen. The hallway ahead of us is a tunnel of orange and yellow, and the heat is so intense it's like looking into the mouth of a furnace.

"We need to knock this down fast," I tell the others. "This whole floor is about to flash."

A flashover is every firefighter's nightmare. It can happen in seconds, and if you're caught in it, your chances of survival drop to almost nothing.

Mark opens the nozzle wide, and we start our attack on the hallway.

The water turns to steam almost instantly, but slowly, inch by inch, we start pushing the fire back.

It's backbreaking work. The hose feels like it weighs a ton, and the heat is so intense that even with our gear, I can feel it trying to cook me alive.

"How's your air?" Ash asks.

I check my gauge. Half a bottle. We've been working for maybe fifteen minutes, but it feels like hours.

"Still good. You?"

"Same. Let's keep pushing."

We work our way down the hallway, knocking down flames, cooling superheated surfaces, making the space as safe as we can. Room by room, we clear the second floor, and for a moment, I think we might actually have this thing beat.

That's when the wind shifts.

I feel it first as a change in the way the smoke is moving. Instead of being drawn up and out through the windows, it starts swirling, changing direction. Then I hear Chief Williams on the radio, his voice tight with concern.

"All units, be advised—wind shift from the south. Repeat, wind shift from the south."

The change is almost immediate. The fire, which we'd been successfully pushing back, suddenly surges forward with renewed fury. Flames that had been dying down roar back to life, fed by the fresh oxygen the wind is driving into the building.

"We need to get out of here," Mark says, and I can hear the tension in his voice. "Now."

But even as he says it, I can see we're in trouble. The hallway behind us—our exit route—is starting to light up again. The fire is moving faster now, racing along the ceiling, looking for anything it can consume.

"Move, move, move!" I shout.

We start back down the hallway, but the fire is moving faster than we are. Behind us, I can hear the sound of structural members starting to fail. Groaning, cracking sounds that tell me the building is in distress.

Halfway back to the stairs, Mark stumbles. The hose line gets tangled around his leg, and for a crucial few seconds, we're stopped in the middle of the hallway as flames start to roll over our heads.

"Come on!" Ash grabs Mark's arm, helps him get free of the line. But those few seconds cost us. The fire has gotten ahead of us now, and our exit is compromised.

"We'll make it," I tell them, but I'm not sure I believe it myself. The stairs are visible ahead, but there are flames between us and safety now.

Mark opens the nozzle, and we charge through the curtain of fire. The heat is incredible—like running through hell itself. I can feel it even through my gear, and I know we're right at the edge of what our equipment can protect us from.

We hit the stairs at a run. Behind us, the second floor is starting to collapse. I can hear the sound of ceiling joists giving way, and I know we have seconds, not minutes.

Ash reaches the first floor first, then Mark. I'm right behind them when I hear it—a sound like the world breaking in half. The entire second floor is coming down.

"Gunner!" Ash shouts from the bottom of the stairs.

I take the last four steps in one leap, but I can feel the building coming apart above me. Debris starts raining down, chunks of burning wood, pieces of plaster.

The front door is maybe twenty feet away, but it might as well be a mile. The ceiling above the lobby is sagging, and I can see cracks spreading across it like spider webs.

"Go!" I yell at Ash and Mark. "Get out!"

They don't argue. They know, just like I do, that in seconds this whole place is coming down. I watch them dive through the front door just as the ceiling gives way.

Time slows down the way it does in moments like this. I can see every piece of burning debris as it falls, can feel the superheated air rushing past me as the building collapses. I throw myself forward, reaching for the door, for safety, for life.

But I'm not fast enough.

The world comes crashing down around me in a symphony of breaking wood and roaring flames. Something heavy hits my back, driving me to the ground, and suddenly I'm pinned under what feels like half the building.

My mask has been knocked loose, and I'm breathing smoke and dust. I can't move my legs—something has them trapped—and I can feel heat all around me, getting closer.

This is it, I think. This is how it ends.

And in that moment, with flames dancing around the edges of my vision and the weight of the collapsed building pressing down on me, all I can think about is Amy and Rosa.

Amy, with her incredible strength and her fierce determination to protect her daughter. Amy, who looks at me like I'm the one person in the world who has her heart. Amy, who makes me want to be better than I ever thought I could be.

And Rosa, with her gap-toothed smile and her endless questions about everything. Rosa, who calls me Gunner like it's the most natural thing in the world. Rosa, who has somehow worked her way so deep into my heart that I can't imagine life without her infectious laughter.

I should have told them I love them. Should have said the words instead of assuming they knew. Should have been braver about my feelings than I am about running into burning buildings.

The heat is getting closer now. I can feel it on my face, and I know I don't have long. My air pack is somewhere behind me, crushed under the debris, and every breath I take tastes like smoke and regret.

I close my eyes and picture them, Amy and Rosa, standing outside the firehouse, watching me drive away.

Amy's face, tight with fear but trying to be brave for Rosa's sake.

Rosa's little hand in her mother's, her eyes wide with the kind of innocent concern that children have when they know something is wrong but don't understand what.

I love you both, I think, hoping somehow they'll know. I love you more than I ever thought possible. I love you enough to make this worth it.

The flames are closer now, and the smoke is getting thicker.

My chest feels tight, and I'm getting dizzy.

But instead of panic, I feel an odd sort of peace.

If this is how it ends, at least I had them, even if it was only for a little while.

At least I know what it feels like to be part of a family again.

At least I know what love is.

The darkness is creeping in around the edges of my vision, and the sound of the fire is getting farther away. I think about Amy's laugh, about Rosa's bedtime stories, about the way it feels to come home to something that matters.

And then, just as everything starts to fade to black, I hear voices. Shouting. Getting closer.

"Gunner! Gunner, where are you?"

Ash. And Mark. And Chief Williams. And what sounds like half the fire department.

I try to call out, but my voice is just a whisper. The smoke has stolen my strength, and the debris has me pinned too tight to move.

But they're coming. They're coming for me, the way we always come for each other. The way family does.

I hold onto that thought as the darkness closes in. Hold onto the sound of their voices, getting closer. Hold onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, this isn't how the story ends after all.

Maybe I'll get to tell Amy and Rosa I love them.

Maybe I'll get that chance.