Deja You (Silhouette Special Edition #1866)

The fire raged.Hot, thick, black smoke billowed and rolled around them inside the four-unit, two up, two down apartment building that was quickly losing its battle with the whipping flames.Damn unattended candles.Damn balloon construction on these cheap-ass buildings.Damn them all if they didn't get control of this thing, and fast.The fire had ripped through both levels of the apartments almost before the first due units arrived on scene. Numerous engine companies had responded to the first alarm. Engineer Erin DeLuca, her immediate supervisor, Captain C. J. Gooding, and Firefighter Ryan Drake--the crew on Engine Eight--had been assigned to investigate the bottom-floor, north-side apartment. They'd rescued everyone they could find from the entire building; now all the companies concentrated on tackling the fire, determined to knock it down against all odds. The wall of heat stifled her, and she knew it would get worse before it got better. Once they hit the flames with water, the resulting steam would be a hundred times hotter than the fire itself.Through her helmet's crappy headset, Erin could hear the sounds of breathing, her own and that of every other firefighter trying to extinguish the virulent blaze. Beyond the Darth Vader breathing chorus came the crash of breaking glass; fire-fighters bumping into walls and furniture in the zero visibility; the clomp-clomp of crews moving about in the apartments above; garbled, back-and-forth radio communications as rooms were cleared; and, of course, the snap and hiss of the monster itself. With the cacophony, radio communications were nearly unintelligible inside her mask and helmet. Thankfully, they were all well aware of and accustomed to the limitations.Her muscles strained as she and her crew carried in the charged one-and-a-half inch hose line that would hopefully black down the fire in this apartment, at least."Hillside Command, from Control.""Go ahead." Erin heard the battalion chief respond to dispatch, from his strategizing position as incident commander outside the fire."You're thirty minutes into the incident, sir.""Copy, thirty minutes. Thanks."From her spot in the communications center, dispatch supervisor and Erin's friend, Lexy, gave the time. Erin couldn't help the niggling sense of alarm in her chest. Thirty minutes in, the fire was hot enough to melt steel, and it didn't seem as though they were any closer to controlling it than when they'd first arrived. She checked the LED readout for her air tank. Half-full, which meant some of the bigger guys on the scene were likely near empty.Erin squinted to see through the blackness, but it was no use. She closed her eyes and let her hearing and sense of touch take over instead. She moved to the left, toward the snapping bursts of fire. Without warning, an ominous splitting sound came from above them. Everyone ducked back as the ceiling above them collapsed, raining down furniture and flame, wood and water and the twofirefighter crew that had been in that particular room upstairs. The ash and sparks settled, then everyone moved at once.Erin immediately dropped to the ground and felt her way to the firefighter closest to her. When she reached him, she leaned down close to his helmet and mask, now jarred away from his face. Bad news.Fumbling with her stiff gloves, she resituated his safety gear, but not before she recognized him. Her gut clenched. "I've got you, Sully," she yelled, knowing he probably couldn't hear her any better than she could hear anyone else through all the gear. "Can you talk?"He groaned.She peered up into the gaping hole just as flames engulfed what was left of the entire apartment overhead.Her stomach dropped. "Portable Eight-A to Command, Sullivan's down!" she said into her radio. "Second floor is fully involved. I've got Sullivan and I'm coming out.""Eight-B to Command, we've got Arroyo," came the voice of Drake, amped to the maxSandoval, Lynda is the author of 'Deja You (Silhouette Special Edition #1866)' with ISBN 9780373248667 and ISBN 0373248660.