It Happened One Night (11 page)

Rollover—and it was out of control.

He keyed the hand mike again.

“Captain, we're going into the freezer!” he shouted. “In the walk-in freezer.”

Then he stuffed the mike back in his pocket, grabbed the back of Charlie's coat and one of  the boy's legs and started scooting himself backward, dragging the bodies as he went.

The muscles in  his back were on fire, he didn't know whether from strain or heat. Although he kept on pulling, progress was slow and he felt that  too much time had passed. Certain that he'd veered off course, he let out a shout of relief when he suddenly hit solid wall. He turned loose of Charlie and the boy long enough to feel behind him, and when his fingers curled around the handle on the freezer, he said  a quick prayer of thanksgiving. Someone was guiding more than his thoughts.

The freezer opened easily. Sam slid the boy in first, his inert body moving easily and lifelessly along the smooth, cold surface, then he reached for Charlie and dragged him in, too, quickly slamming the door behind him.

Still on his hands and knees, he took off his headgear, lowered his head and fell face forward onto the floor, his heart hammering inside his chest.

The cold against his cheek was like water to a man dying of thirst. Relief from the intense heat of the fire outside was coupled with the knowledge that the power was off inside the freezer, which meant no new air would be circulating. If things didn't go right, they could just as easily suffocate before they were found, but that was a worry for another time.

Sam struggled to get up. He had to know if the boy was breathing. He had to check on Charlie's injuries. But the silence inside the freezer was almost mesmerizing. Only the faintest of sounds penetrated the thick walls. If they died, then so be it. At least their families would have something to bury besides a couple of bones and some ashes.

Finally, he got to his feet and began feeling along the floor, wishing he hadn't dropped his flashlight. Sweeping his arms out in front of him, he found the first body. It was Charlie. Removing his gloves, he ran his fingers along Charlie's neck, searching for a pulse. It was there, strong and steady. He ran his hands all over Charlie's body but couldn't feel any blood. What he did feel was a definite dent in Charlie's helmet that hadn't been there before. All he could do was hope that Charlie had only been knocked out.

His next concern was the boy. He found him quickly, and tested him for a pulse. Unlike Charlie's, the boy's life was hardly there. The pulse was weak and thready and he could barely detect any signs of breathing. He felt along the floor for his SCBA and
quickly slipped it over the boy's head. Whatever air was left in the pack was better used for the kid than for him. With a weary groan, he sat down with a thump. Without light or first-aid equipment, there was nothing more he could do but wait.

Within seconds, Sam began to feel the cold. Confident that Charlie was protected by his gear, his focus shifted to the boy. He opened his coat, gathered the boy up in his arms and pulled him tight against his chest.

“Johnny, can you hear me? You're safe now, but you've got to stay with me. Your mother's outside and she's real worried about you. You're gonna have to be tough, son. Tougher than you've ever been before.”

Knowing there was nothing more he could do, Sam clutched the boy close against his chest. As he sat, he thought of Harley, remembering the laughter in her eyes and the way they made love. Knowing that her life would go on if he died and resenting the hell out of the fact that his might end before they'd had a chance to make this marriage thing right.

* * *

Outside, Captain Reed had gotten just enough of Sam's last message to know they were in trouble. He spun, shouting as he ran.

“I want the Rapid Intervention Team in here now.”

Firefighters sprang into action, stringing new hose lines and grabbing SCBAs as they moved toward the back of the building.

“What's happening?” Johnny's mother screamed. “Did they find my boy?”

Captain Reed shouted at a nearby policeman.

“Get this woman out of here now! The area is too dangerous for civilians.”

The woman grabbed hold of Reed's arm, her eyes dark with fear and shock.

“I don't move until you tell me what you know,” she said. “That's my son. I have a right.”

Reed hesitated and then covered her hand with his.

“Ma'am, it's not good. All I heard my firefighters say was that they'd found him but they're trapped. I don't know what his condition is. I don't know if he's alive or dead, but unless I can get my men out, they're all going to die. Please go with the officer. He'll take you to a safer place and I swear that when I know something definite, I'll tell you first.”

“Dear God,” she whispered, and dropped her head as the officer led her away.

Reed resisted a shudder. He had no time to give in to his own emotions. Lives depended on rational decisions. He moved toward the fire, giving orders as he ran.

* * *

Harley had known for almost an hour that something was wrong with Sam. Every breath she drew was painful and every second that ticked away was time lost with the man she loved. She sat without moving, staring  blankly  at  a  phone  that  didn't  ring.  Sam
couldn't die because she hadn't told him that she loved him. Life couldn't be that unfair.

Sometime later the doorbell rang, but she couldn't bring herself to answer. Then knocking sounded and she heard the familiar sound of Tisha Sterling's voice.

“Harley! Harley! It's me, Tisha. Are you in there?”

Harley shuddered. Her body was weak with fear, but her need to know was strong. Slowly, she made her way to the door and then opened it.

Tisha grabbed Harley by the shoulders.

“We've got to go! I got a call,” she said. “It's—”

“Sam's in trouble,” Harley said.

Tisha frowned. “Who called you?”

“No one,” Harley said, staring blankly at a space over Tisha's shoulders.

“Then how did you know?” Tisha asked.

Although she was unaware of moving, Harley's hand drifted toward her heart.

“I feel it.”

“Get your purse and come with me. I'm not waiting for a call from Captain Reed. Charlie's in danger, too, and I've got to know what's going on.”

Harley shuddered again and then turned around, staring blankly at the room.

Tisha screamed with frustration and bolted for the hall table where Harley usually kept her purse. Sure enough it was there. She grabbed it on the run and then headed for the door, yanking Harley with her as she ran.

* * *

The Rapid Intervention Team was fighting a losing battle. Walls had already collapsed on the north side of the building and the steel arches of the long, metal roof had long since caved in.

Franklin Reed was sick to his stomach. He was forty-seven years old and wanted to cry. Ever since the rollover, he'd been second-guessing his decision to let Sam and Charlie go in. If he hadn't they'd still be alive. And they were dead, of that he had no doubt. They would have long since run out of air in their SCBAs. He kept telling himself that they had probably succumbed to smoke before the fire had gotten them, but he didn't know that for sure. Media vans from local television stations were lined up a good four blocks away, but he could feel the long-range lenses trained on him. For that reason and for that reason only, he kept his emotions masked. When he grieved, it would not be in front of a camera.

As he looked away, he saw movement from the corner of his eye and then started to frown. The cops had let two women under the blockade and they were coming toward him. He recognized Charlie Sterling's wife but not the woman she had in tow.

“Damn it,” he said to no one in particular. He didn't want to have to tell Patricia Sterling that her husband was most likely dead.

* * *

The air was full of smoke and noise and the moment Tisha and Harley crossed the police barrier they found themselves walking in water.

Harley let herself be dragged along, but she wasn't looking at the tall, stern-faced man in uniform waiting for them at the end of the block. Her focus was on the flames silhouetting him against the sky.

“Oh God,” she whispered, then stumbled.

Tisha caught her by the elbow.

“Don't stop,” she said, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “And don't look at the fire. Captain Reed will tell us what we need to know.”

Reed came to meet them.

“Patricia, isn't it?” he said, touching Tisha on the arm.

Tisha's chin wobbled, but she made herself smile.

“Yes, sir, and this is Sam's wife, Harley.”

“You shouldn't be here, you know.”

“Where else would we be?” Tisha asked.

Reed shrugged and then glanced at Harley. He took her hand and knew immediately that she was unaware she'd even been touched. Her eyes were wide, her pupils fixed and dilated as she stared in disbelief.

“Mrs. Clay. I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. I tried to make the cookout you and Sam had last month, but my youngest son broke his leg that day playing baseball. My wife and I spent the afternoon and most of that evening in the emergency room. You know how it is.”

Harley blinked. “I'm sorry,” she muttered. “What did you say?”

Reed sighed and shifted his gaze to Tisha.

“I'm assuming someone called you or you wouldn't be here.”

“What can you tell us?” Tisha asked.

A muscle jerked in Reed's jaw. Unconsciously, his grip tightened on her arm.

“Sam and Charlie went in after a kid who'd gotten trapped.”

Tisha moaned and then pressed a finger to her lips to keep from screaming.

“And?”

“They found the boy but didn't make it out,” he said. “Last message we had was a Mayday from Sam. He said something about being trapped and then most of the other words were too garbled to understand. We sent the RIT team in immediately, but they were unsuccessful.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I'm so sorry.”

Tisha covered her face and then went to her knees. Almost immediately, Harley's hand was on Tisha's head.

Reed saw Harley's eyelids drop as she swayed on her feet. Thinking she was going to faint, he caught her by the shoulders, then found himself caught in the undertow of a blank stare.

“They're cold,” Harley said.

“Ma'am... Harley, is it?”

Harley nodded, then smiled. “But Sam likes to call me Junie.”

Reed sighed.

“Harley, let me help you to a—”

“No, I'll wait here for Sam,” Harley said. “He's just cold. Somebody needs to get him a blanket.”

Reed's eyes filled with tears. “Mrs. Clay, please. You and Patricia need to come with me.”

A frown creased the surface of Harley's forehead as she abruptly pulled out of his grasp.

“You're not listening to me,” she said, her voice rising with each word. “They're not dead. They're cold.”

The store manager had been nearby, listening to what they'd been saying, and then suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

“Captain Reed. Captain Reed!”

Reed turned. “What?”

“What if she's right? We couldn't make out the last part of the fireman's message, but remember you thought he was shouting for someone to free them. What if he was saying freezer? The walk-in freezer is right beside the bathrooms. What if they took shelter in there?”

For the first time since the roof went in, Captain Reed felt a glimmer of hope. It wasn't based on anything but a young wife's refusal to give up hope and the small bit of truth in what the manager was saying.
It wasn't much, but he'd seen miracles before with far less reasons. He pointed to Tisha and Harley.

“Stay with them,” he said, and started toward the fire at a lope.

* * *

They were sitting in water, which didn't surprise Sam because the world had surely melted from all the heat. Once he thought he'd heard Charlie groan, and he'd called out to him, letting him know that he was there. But Charlie hadn't responded and so he'd opted to save his breath.

The boy was breathing. Sam knew because he could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest. He also knew that the kid had certainly suffered from smoke inhalation and was in dire need of medical attention, and yet all he could do was hold him in his lap. Frustration coupled with acceptance. They'd come so close. It was damned unfair that it would end like this.

He took a slow, even breath, inhaling the smell of thawing meat and wet paper along with badly needed oxygen. Their headgear was empty of compressed air and the oxygen inside the freezer was depleting fast. He was getting sleepy—so sleepy. Once he thought of getting up and trying the door, just to see if the fire was over. But if it wasn't, fire would be the last thing he saw and he didn't want to die that way, knowing the thing he'd given his life to fight had won out in the end. So he'd stayed inside the freezer with the boy cradled in his arms, listening for the moment when
breathing would finally cease, wondering if his would be the first to go.

Don't forget me, Junie. I sure won't be forgetting you.

The boy was so heavy in his arms and he was tired—so tired. He let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. They burned some, but itched even more. His mind wandered again and he had to focus on why his eyes were bothering him. Oh yes. Just a hazard of the smoke. He needed to rest—but just for a minute.

Seconds ticked by and ever so slowly, the boy slid out of Sam's arms and down into his lap as his arms went limp. Except for the constant drip of melting ice, it was quiet—deathly quiet.

* * *

Captain Reed's hand mike crackled with static and then he heard a fireman shout.

“We found them!”