Five Alarm Alphas Page 6

  “Sorry, I gotta take this. I’ll drop you off first.”

  “Of course. I can make you dinner tomorrow night. We can watch that Star Trek movie you like. The one with Sherlock in it.”

  As much as Tabatha obsessed about Benedict Cumberbatch, she hated the whole Star Trek franchise, so for her to offer to sit through his favorite movie showed a lot of commitment. “How about I pick you up and take you out for dinner—have someone else cook for you for once. And then we go back to my place.” He squeezed her thigh. “Hit the hot tub. Fool around a little?”

  “I’d like that.”

  The light turned green, so he handed her his phone. “Can you check the address?”

  “Closest intersection is George and Parkhill.” She read off the street and number. “Shit. That’s the building right across the road from my place. You know, Dr. Tooth Whitener Extraordinaire?”

  Shit. Dentists kept compressed gases in their offices, didn’t they? As in combustible gases. And just like her building, there were apartments on the second and third floors. Which meant there could be people trapped. He flipped on his scanner.

  “—two people trapped on the second floor.” Shit. There were shouts and curses, and in the background the building’s alarms were screeching. Hopefully they had a working sprinkler system too.

  “Truck 33 Bravo, can we get a deck gun aimed at the second floor?”

  “That sounds like Quinn,” Tabby said, worry filling her voice. “I thought he wasn’t on duty tonight.”

  “He volunteered to take Bogg’s shift—it was her kid’s birthday today and she didn’t want to miss it again.”

  Even from blocks away, they could see the smoke billowing above the roofs. As he got closer, flashing lights, red and white, and blue and red strobed off the buildings.

  Traffic was being diverted at each end of the block. Which forced him to pull down a side street to park.

  “I doubt they’ll let you into your place until they get the fire contained, so why don’t you take my keys and go stay at my place? I’ll get Quinn to run me out when we’re done here.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll see if they’ll let me in to my place first. If they do, when you’re done, just ring the bell by the back door.”

  Goddamned timing of the fire. “Hold that thought, okay? I gotta get ready.”

  He pulled the bag containing his turnout gear from the back of the truck. Pants, with their suspenders went on first. Boots went on next. Nomex hood, and after a glance at the fire, he pulled on the second hood too. He shrugged into the jacket, and zipped it up. Next came the usual check of the rest of his gear—ensuring the flashlight worked before pocketing it, slinging the mask over his neck, checking and attaching the personal safety alarm. Once that was secure, he shouldered the SCBA straps and giving Tabatha a thumbs up, tucked his gloves under his arm and strode past the barriers.

  Unlike Twisted Tabby’s, which had a single level of apartments above, this building had at least twelve units on the second and third floors. Flames licked out of several of the second floor windows at the back, which told him the fire had most likely started in one of the apartments. Which hopefully meant it was far from the dentist’s supply of compressed gases and, if they were really lucky, could be quickly contained.

  Engine Two was already on scene, along with the rescue truck and the quint, the locks on the ladder truck were being extended as several other firefighters tested the hydrants.

  He scanned the street looking for the chief’s white hat—gotcha! Not by the chief’s squad truck but by the quint. Pouring over blueprints with the FEO from the looks of it.

  “Where do you need me, chief?”

  Before he could answer Quinn’s voice squawked over the radio, “Two females are out of the building and with the EMTs. Second floor is clear.”

  The chief muttered, “Thank the Lord,” before answering Zac, “Walker’s hookin’ up a hose to take up to the third floor right now, so you can help him. And keep an eye on the kid will you? He’s got promise but he’s so new he ain’t figured out just when to be scared yet.”

  Didn’t feel like it was that long ago he was the newbie being jostled along. “Anything special I need to look for?”

  “Other than the fucking nitrous oxide and oxygen waiting for a spark?” The chief shook his head. “The fire’s movin’ fast—it’s taken hold of the third floor so we need you up there to see if you can knock it down before it compromises the structure.”

  Easier said than done. Zac found the newbie wrestling with a hydrant farther down the street. “Hey, Jase, looks like I’m with you tonight.”

  He could still see through the smoke on the first level, but it quickly got dark the higher he went. He stepped carefully over the hoses snaking up the stairs to the second floor where Navarette, Guertin and Gonzalez were knocking down a fire at the back, while Meehan, Kohler and Staton poked holes in the ceiling. Behind him the newbie wrestled with the hose, kicking chunks of drywall and something else that looked like it used to be a framed picture out of the way.

  He stepped onto the third floor and straight into a cloud of pure black smoke. Fuck. Looked like he’d be working on his knees for a while. He dropped down to the floor and paused. Okay, so the fire was in the back of the building, which would be to his…he pictured the building and the placement of the stairs. Left. “Hey, Walker, make sure that hose doesn’t get hung up on anything.”

  Having to move on his knees while in full gear and dragging a heavy-assed fire hose meant he was reduced to a plodding pace of shuffle, tug and drag. He’d gone about halfway down the hall when he spotted flames through a doorway about twenty feet ahead. They were licking up the walls and rolling across the ceiling. If he didn’t get water on it soon, the firefighters on the roof would be crashing down on top of them.

  The floor didn’t have carpet, which was a bitch on his knees, but the lack of carpeting might help keep the smoke and chemical crap it belched from getting worse. Shuffle, tug, drag. A building this age probably had asbestos somewhere in it, and who knows what else. Shuffle, tug, dra— Nope, the damned hose wasn’t moving.

  “What’s the hold up with that hose?”

  “The fucking thing is hung up on something. It won’t move when I pull it.”

  So the kid was just sitting there with his thumb up his ass expecting them to do…what? Jesus H. Christ, save him from newbies who couldn’t use their heads to solve an obvious problem. “Well, get the fucking thing unhung up. Follow it the fuck down to whatever it’s fucking stuck on if you fucking well have to!”

  As he waited for Walker to straighten out the hose, a stream of water blasted in through the window, temporarily clearing some of the smoke so he could see inside the far room. Ladders, piles of sheetrock, exposed beams. And what he’d thought was a wall the flames were curling up wasn’t a wall at all. It was at least a dozen paint cans and two large bottles of acetylene gas.

  FUCK! They had to get water on those damned bottles and fast.

  He tugged on the hose—only to have it not move. Again. “Mother fucking fucking fuck!” He clicked on his radio. “Chief, be advised, we’ve got a hazardous materials on the third floor, front room.” He relayed the contents, and his plan to drench the acetylene to stop them from exploding. “Walker—get that fucking hose working. Now!”

  Chapter Four

  As Zac had predicted, the police refused to allow Tabatha access to her building. “Sorry, ma’am, but you’ll have to stay back of the line. If you need shelter, we’ve got a bus set up over there for residents until we get the all clear.”

  Though she’d known Zac was a volunteer firefighter, Tabatha usually heard about his exploits dumping water from high above. Which seemed dangerous enough—she never had understood the physics of what kept a helicopter aloft. But to actually see him in his gear, totally focused, running toward a building with flames shooting out of its windows, with the strobing lights against the dark sky, to hear the crackle of the flames, and s
mell the acrid smoke, had her clutching her hands to her mouth.

  Is this what she’d face every day if she were in a long term relationship with Zac? She’d worried about him before, but seeing him in full gear walking into a burning building brought it all home. Could she face it day after day?

  Yes. Because the only other option was to completely cut him out of her life. And if something did happen, she’d rather have spent the time they had together with him, than without.

  Seconds later, a fire truck’s horn blasted repeatedly. The urgency unmistakable.

  “What’s happening?” She called to a police officer guarding the line.

  “That’s the evacuation order.”

  Seconds later, three firefighters ran out of the building. One fell to his knees, coughing. The other two ran to the chief who barked something into his radio.

  Flame and heat exploded from the windows, bricks clattered onto the street. One of the fireman on the ladders tumbled backward, his foot getting caught in one of the rungs until he hung upside down. The massive carved stones forming the parapets that she’d once found so fancy buried the firefighter who had been stationed at the base of the ladder, leaving only one boot uncovered.

  “Man down, man down!” echoed down the street.

  She searched the firefighters racing to help the men on the ground for sign that one of them was Zac. Or Quinn. But she was so far away she couldn’t read the names on the jackets.

  One of the firefighters flagged the police officer guarding the barriers. “Hey, we’ve called for an ambulance. Make sure they can get through.”

  Quinn’s an EMS. Why isn’t he helping? Is he one of the men down? Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  A police officer she recognized from the diner hurried over. “Ma’am, you need to stay back on the sidewalk.”

  She glanced around, surprised to find herself past the yellow tape barrier and in the middle of the street. How had she gotten here? “I’m just…” realizing the man I love—who I finally got together with—does a dangerous job. “My boyfriend’s one of the firefighters, my other best friend too. Zac Buchanan and Quinn Peterson.” I can’t lose them both. “Please, I just need to know they’re okay.”

  She hated the way her voice had raised, hated the fear in it.

  His expression softened. “Let me see what I can find out. In the meantime, I need you to stay calm and get back on the sidewalk, okay?”

  Stay calm? The phrase itself guaranteed to make people be anything BUT be calm. Except that was precisely what she needed to do. She needed to be strong for Zac. For them both.

  Not trusting her voice, she hauled in a smoked-tinged breath and moved back behind the barriers.

  Two ambulances screamed down the street, their horns blasting at the crowds that flooded the street. The cop waded through them, yelling for them to put down their cell phones and get the fuck out of the way.

  A sense of helplessness swamped Tabatha. She wanted to do something. Anything. Even if it was to open up her diner and offer the fireman drinks or food or something to help out. Instead she had to just stand here. Waiting.

  Waiting.

  The crowds that had been so entranced by the flames earlier shifted, following the fire as it spread to the next building over. Tabatha eventually sought refuge in the bus with a half dozen other apartment residents before the cop who she’d asked about Zac and Quinn poked his head in the front door. Once he spotted her, he lumbered down the aisle, having to duck his head the whole way. “Those two guys you asked about? They’re okay. Patterson’s got a few bruises from some bricks that fell on him but he’s fine.”

  Thank God.

  “Buchanan was pissed you were still here—he said, and I quote, ‘tell her to take my, ah, bleepin’ truck, go to my bleepin’ place and stop bleepin’ worrying about us.’”

  Even in the dim light, she swore he colored up as he censored Zac’s speech. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay here.”

  The cop chuckled. “He said you’d say that. Hey, you said you run the diner, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “The blast knocked out your front window. It’s going to need boarding up. If you can arrange someone to do it, you’ll need to call the station and give them the names so they can get past the barricades in the morning.”

  “Thanks, but I was wondering if I could get into the diner now. I have lots of water and food I can hand out—it’ll be free for any of the first responders.”

  It would give her a reason to stick around and ensure Zac stayed safe.

  And it would help keep her busy. Which she desperately wanted to be now. Later she’d probably crash from exhaustion, but if she went to Zac’s place alone, she’d just sit there and worry.

  “It doesn’t take a genius to see they’re going to be here a while, and they’ve got to be getting hungry and tired. At least let me pass out the water and pastries I have on hand.”

  It took another two hours, a lot of persuading of both him and another cop, along with the fire chief, but they finally relented and escorted her to the diner. As he’d warned her, the front window had been reduced to shards of glass littering the front booths but the rest of the diner had escaped unscathed. Across the road, there were no longer any signs of flames in the dentist’s building, but the fire had now spread to three other buildings. From what she’d overheard the chief had sent out a call for extra help.

  “Now listen,” the cop—Tiny—warned, “I put my neck out for you—so if anyone comes over and says you have to leave, you’re out of here. Don’t make me pick you up and carry you out. Because I’ll do it.”

  At six foot seven, if he was an inch, and at least two hundred and eighty pounds, his wasn’t an idle threat. Tiny could probably toss her over one shoulder and hoist an entire bus holding the rest of the displaced apartment dwellers under the other arm without breaking a sweat.

  “I promise.” She headed straight for the coffee maker and set a pot brewing. One of the store owners set up a table on the other side of the police barriers and helped her carry out boxes of pastries, sandwiches and cookies for the exhausted fire crews to serve themselves as they needed.

  “Hey, need any help?” Shannon joined her as she placed yet another box of water bottles on the table.

  “Yes!”

  Shannon’s husband Dave—another volunteer—came over five minutes later, gave his wife a quick hug, grabbed a bottle of water and downed it before he headed back into the building.

  Tabatha shook her head at how Shannon simply let him walk away. “How do you do it? Just watch him go into danger like that?”

  “Because I know I couldn’t stop him. It’s part of who he is. And that’s what I love about him, so why would I try to change him?” Shannon eyed her. “It’s freaking you out, isn’t it? Seeing Zac in action?”

  “Little bit, yeah.” As in major meltdown going on over here.

  Shannon hugged her, rubbing a soothing hand over her shoulders. “Honey, you don’t normally see them actually at work. But they’re constantly drilled and trained for situations like this. They know what they’re doing.”

  “But something exploded and a couple guys got hurt.” She still hadn’t seen Quinn, an absence that weighed heavily in her chest.

  “Honey, what’s the alternative?” Shannon said gently. “That’s it’s okay for someone else’s husband to go into danger while you try to keep Zac safe?”

  “No, I wouldn’t expect that.” Plus while Zac would probably quit volunteering if she asked, he’d resent her. Being a firefighter, even a volunteer one, was part of him.

  “If you and Zac are to be a couple, you’re going to have to learn to deal with what he does. You’re a strong woman. He wouldn’t be interested in you if you weren’t. You have to trust him to be careful. And prayers help too.”

  Yeah, she’d been sending up a lot of those tonight.

  “Listen, when it gets too tough, just remember I’m right here. I’m always willing to listen.�
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  “Thanks. Right back at you.”

  Replaying Shannon’s advice in her head, Tabatha spent the next two hours cooking a huge pot of her five-alarm chili and set it out, along with plates of corn bread.

  The inky black of the sky had changed to a murky grey tinged with pink at the farthest eastern edge when a firefighter trudged over, the slump of his shoulders and shuffling walk betraying his exhaustion. Only when he was standing on the opposite side of the makeshift table did she recognize Zac. Soot stained his face in the shape of his mask, and he reeked of smoke, and trailed ash with every large footstep. None of it matter. He was here, and he was safe.

  As much as she wanted to throw herself in his arms, to hold him, to insist he come home with her, she followed Shannon’s advice and kept her spine straight, her chin high. He needed to see that she could handle this side of his job. She sought for something intelligent to say, other than the bland “Are you okay” because obviously he was, other than looking like he needed to rest.

  Before she could come up with something pithy, he croaked, “I thought I told you to take the truck and go home.”

  “I figured I could be of more help here.” She glared at him, daring him to argue with her. “I haven’t seen Quinn come around for water or anything. Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s up at the hospital.” He held up a hand when she gasped. “He’s fine. I promise.”

  “Then why’s he at the hospital?”

  “You know you and Quinn are like dogs with bones, aren’t you?” He hitched the edge of one hip on one of the concrete planters that lined the sidewalk, cracked open a water bottle and downed half of it. “He and John Sheppard—” Tabatha recognized the name of one of the older full-time firefighters “—got hit by some falling bricks. Before you drive up to the hospital and insist on questioning the doctors, Quinn climbed into the ambulance on his own power, but they want to do x-rays to make sure. Last I heard he was cursing out the chief for sending him off the scene.”