Scorched Edges (9 page)

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Less than two hours after he’d left Marty, Beau and five other members of his watch walked into a blazing building, oxygen tanks on their backs, breathing apparatus covering their faces. Their information suggested that three, possibly four people were trapped by the fire. The premises housed a self-storage company. The low brick structure was single story with a basement. Each floor consisted of fifty plus small rooms, all of which had to be searched and cleared. There were two main corridors with rooms off to either side. Beau and his team took one route while men from another attending crew took the other. They worked in pairs, Beau and his partner taking the lead, breaking in doors and clearing debris whilst the others took a side each and checked for people.

It was a systematic and thorough process. Beau wanted to be absolutely sure they didn’t miss anyone. Many of the rooms were crammed with furniture, boxes and assorted junk, making searching difficult. As they reached the point farthest from their place of entry, Beau’s radio crackled into life.

“All crews withdraw. All crews withdraw. We’ve been told there are gas canisters in the basement. Clear the building now!”

Immediately Beau shoved his partner forward.

“Run for the exit. Don’t stop for anything. Go!” He pulled one pair of men from the room they were searching and sent them after his partner.

The second pair was concealed from view and it took him a few precious moments to get them into the corridor. Beau sent them on their way, did a three-sixty degree visual check of his position then started after them. All six men hurtled along the corridor as fast as their heavy equipment would allow. An evacuation order would only have been given if the danger were imminent. Beau had no doubt that all their lives depended on how fast they could run.

The world exploded into a fractured cascade of red and orange. Clouds of thick black smoke blocked all light. Beau stumbled then threw himself to the floor as the roof came down around him. A crushing weight slammed into his shoulder just as he hit the ground. Dark spots scattered in front of Beau’s eyes, dimming the bright glare, then everything went black.

Chapter Six

“Beauman here.” Beau finally managed to respond to the nagging voice shouting at him through the helmet mike. Someone had sandpapered his throat and he sounded like one of those depressed country and western singers after a few too many fingers of Jack.

“Thank fuck. This is Control. What the hell were you doing in there? Sleeping?”

“Something like that.” Beau twisted and shoved a heavy wooden beam away from his body. He gasped as pain shot through his shoulder.

“Can you move, Beauman? What’s your situation?”

Beau managed to roll to his knees. The weight of his oxygen tank pulled on his injured shoulder, forcing another groan from his lips. His mask and helmet were still in place and apart from general aches and pains, he couldn’t detect any other obvious injuries.

“It’s darker than Hades in here, Control, and hotter than a fucking blast furnace. I can’t see much. Did the others get out?”

“Yes, though I’m gonna have to chain their asses down to stop them coming back in there after you. The building’s not stable, Beauman, you’re on your own.”

“Fantastic.” Beau peered through the gloom. “You tell those idiots I’ll kick all their asses if they so much as set one toe in here against orders.”

“Understood. Now, from what we can see, the building has collapsed on the southeast corner. When the ceiling came down, you became separated from the rest of the team by debris. If you head northwest, you should find a way out.”

Beau thumped the torch on the front of his jacket. “Yes!” A feeble beam flickered into life. Thick black smoke drifted in the air. Beau could hear his own breath, an asthmatic rasping, as he sucked life-sustaining oxygen from his tank. He struggled to his feet, the weight of his equipment three times heavier than usual. Everything seemed different as he tried to get a sense of direction. He tried to identify any recognizable feature but the tangle of debris created an alien landscape. In his peripheral vision, flickers of amber told him the fire had a good hold. His options were limited, so he took the only route clear enough to get through and hoped that he was moving toward safety rather than into the jaws of the fire.

The torchlight was so weak that he still had to feel his way along. His instincts kicked in and he reached a wall he could lean on and follow. He found a door and eased through it. Sweat slicked his face beneath the mask. Every step took an increasing amount of effort.

“I’m through to the next room, there’s some kind of blockage. Hold on.”

“Copy that.”

The only way through that Beau could make out was at floor level. He dropped to his stomach, located the low, narrow gap and wriggled under what appeared to be a section of suspended ceiling. He forced his way through then froze as debris rained down on his back and head. Nothing heavy came down on him so Beau pushed on until he was once again able to stand.

“Is there anyone trapped in here?”

“Everyone’s out, Beauman. Concentrate on yourself.”

He felt his way along another wall then was forced to squeeze through a tight gap. His tank caught and he had to rip himself free, wrenching his injured shoulder in the process. Momentum spun him around and he had to pause to orient himself again before he lost his bearings completely.

Slow, steady and you might just survive this. Get through, get out.
But there was nothing but darkness, acrid fumes and cloying heat.

“Fuck a duck.” Beau hit an impenetrable barrier and had to retrace his steps.

“Talk to me, Beauman. What’s going on?”

“Hit a dead end. I’m going back but it’s getting fucking hot in here. If I wanted a tan I’d go to Spain.”

“We’re training every hose we’ve got on your possible exit points. Keep calm and keep going.”

“Do you have that printed on a mug, Control?”

“Fucking comedian.”

Beau grunted then yelled as he stepped forward and plummeted downward. His fall was broken by split planks and debris but it wasn’t a comfortable landing and he cursed up a storm.

“Beauman? Beauman!”

“Keep your hair on, Control. I was on the ground floor, now I’m in the fucking basement. I’ll have to climb out again.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Of course I’m fucking hurt. I just fell twelve feet strapped to twenty pounds of metal.” Beau ignored the pain and started to climb.

Sweat poured down his face and if it hadn’t been for the dense black smoke he would have ripped off the mask. “No fucking way I’m going to be buried alive in this hellhole,” Beau muttered as he hauled himself upward. Splinters pierced his gloves. His limbs took a battering from projecting metal and wood.

“Control your breathing, Beauman, conserve oxygen.”

“No shit, Control.”

Muscles on fire from the effort, Beau heaved himself out of the grave and began to crawl. Above him everything was on fire. Showers of sparks rained around him. The heat built and built. In the distance a square of gray appeared. Frantically, Beau crawled then staggered toward it. He reached the window opening with flames licking at his boots. The glass had long since blown out and he climbed through. Every muscle screamed at him to stop but he kept crawling, unable to see.

Hands grabbed him and dragged him forward. Beau registered the light and ripped off his helmet and mask. He was burning up. He struggled to unfasten his jacket, clawing at it desperately.

“Need to get you clear, Beauman.”

Beau didn’t hear the blast but he felt its force as he, and his helpers, were thrown forward onto unyielding concrete.

“Well done.”

Beau managed to lift his head enough to see who was speaking. Alvin loomed over him.

“Thanks, boss.” He dragged himself to a sitting position, and Alvin helped him to his feet.

“That was a close one.”

“Close enough.” Beau discarded his tank and pulled off his jacket. His navy T-shirt was sodden and every inch of exposed skin was streaked with sweat and soot.

“There’s someone here who seems to be concerned about your survival.” Alvin waved.

A slight figure hurtled toward them and skidded to a halt in front of Beau.

“Marty! What are you doing here?” Beau struggled to his feet.

Marty looked on edge from his head to his toes. “I want to hug you…” He glanced around anxiously.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Beau held out his arms.

“I wasn’t sure…”

Beau folded Marty’s trembling form into a firm embrace. “Thank you for your caution, but I have nothing to hide. I’ve always been out at work and I am very proud to have you in my arms.” Beau held Marty back a little. “Though I
am
making you all dirty.”

Marty had a satchel slung over his shoulder. He pulled a bottle of water from it and handed it over.

“I love the husky thing you have going on, but this might help.”

Beau grabbed the bottle and took a long swallow. The icy cold liquid was better than champagne to his parched throat but he wanted Marty back in his arms. He put the bottle down and drew him close.

“I had the TV on at your place while I was getting ready to go home. I knew you’d be here. I couldn’t just sit around and wait, so I followed the smoke. I managed to get Commander Morley’s attention, told him I was your friend and he was kind enough to let me wait at the Control point. I think he guessed we were more than friends.”

“I’ll just bet he did.” Beau grinned, and breathed in Marty’s fresh, clean scent.

“I was terrified that you weren’t going to come out of there, Beau. I thought I’d lost you before we even got started and I couldn’t bear it.”

“Hey, I’m just fine. Tough as an ox.” Beau’s throat tightened with emotion.

“Put that man down, Beauman,” Alvin said gruffly.

“Don’t want to.” Beau pouted, making Marty giggle.

“Would you rather spend the night in hospital?”

Beau peered over his shoulder at his very annoying boss. “No way. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“The paramedics will be the judge of that and if you don’t present yourself at that ambulance over there”—he gestured behind him—“then I will not only recommend you be admitted, I’ll write you up for insubordination at the same time.”

“I like him, Beau. Now do as you’re told.” Marty slapped at Beau’s arm.

Beau gaped. “Who’s the injured party here? You two stop ganging up on me!”

They both ignored him. Alvin lifted the tanks from where Beau had discarded them. Marty grabbed his hand and towed him toward the ambulance.

“Get yourself checked out, right now. I swear…stubborn alpha males, you’re all the same. You could have a limb hanging off and say it was nothing more than a paper cut. You’re bleeding, damn it.”

Bemused by the new, feisty Marty, Beau followed him meekly, clutching his jacket. He sat on the back step of the ambulance, where two female paramedics gave him equally impatient glares. Before he could protest one of them took a pair of scissors to his T-shirt and cut it efficiently from his body.

Marty pressed his lips together but a snort of laughter escaped. Beau narrowed his eyes at him and fidgeted as he was poked and prodded.

“Keep still, you big baby,” one of the paramedics scolded. “You have extensive bruising and several penetrating wounds from large splinters. How do your ribs feel, are you having any difficulty breathing?”

Beau shook his head. “No. Had oxygen on the whole time. A beam crashed into my shoulder and I fell through the floor, but there was plenty of debris to slow me down.”

“We’ll need to examine your bottom half as well. Drop ’em, sunshine.”

“Better get in to the back of the wagon so we can close the doors. Don’t want to give the onlookers a show.”

“You two are quite the double act,” Beau snarked, but he climbed into the ambulance. “He comes too.” He offered Marty a hand and pulled him up the steps.

“Well, this is cozy. I’m Serena and this is Caroline. Let’s take a squiz at you.”

Beau bent to pull off his boots and didn’t quite conceal a wince. He managed to get them off, then pushed both his protective overtrousers and his uniform blues down in one go.

“Did you hit your head at all, lose consciousness?” Caroline asked, making some notes on a clipboard.

“Briefly I think, when the ceiling came down.” Beau touched the side of his head. “There’s a bit of a lump here.”

“Any headache or nausea?”

“Head hurts a bit from all these fucking questions. I don’t feel sick.”

Caroline tapped her pen on the clipboard. “Attitude…normal.”

“Sorry.” Beau decided that being rude was not going to help keep him out of the hospital.

“Wow. That’s quite the rainbow you have going on there.” Serena crouched down in front of him. “You are going to be black and blue. Your right thigh and hip are especially bad.” She probed gently with purple-gloved hands.

Beau remained stoic and silent but the examination hurt. He shot a glance at his body and swallowed hard. Blood and grime streaked his skin over dark reddish-purple patches.