Too Hot to Handle

“Where are you?!” Came the urgent plea of the struggling firefighter. In spite of his current circumstances, he managed to depress the ‘talk’ button on his two-way radio, making a final, desperate attempt to locate the downed colleague. Firefighter Charles Bach struggled to see through the darkened, smoke-filled hallway. With an inner desperation born from an innate instinct to survive, he made his way through the burning building. One way or the other, he was determined to locate his downed friend and co-worker, Kerwin Utley. Churning billows of dark gray smoke rolled from the aged office building. One-by-one the windows burst, causing dagger-like shards of glass to rain down onto the sidewalk…a mere three stories below. Upon arrival, the firefighters had observed a small, relatively simple fire that they figured could be rapidly extinguished. The crew had quickly dispersed within the three stories, seeking hot spots that would be easily put out. The building had not been ablaze for very long and hadn’t shown any sign of escalating…until the blast occurred. With a deafening blast the concussive force of the explosion rocked the aged building. The ensuing shock waves caused several firefighters to tumble off their feet, while it merely sent others reeling up against the walls. Within seconds, the fire escalated into a roaring inferno, and the tones for a second and third alarm sounded in nearby fire stations. As Charles pushed himself to his feet, the stabbing pain in his right arm caused him no small amount of concern, but he didn’t have time to think about that right now. Charles found tremendous satisfaction in his career as a firefighter, but it was at times like this that he wondered if he shouldn’t have taken his father’s advice and become an accountant instead. But the challenge of being a firefighter was always present, and it fed his intrigue and love of the work. The gratifying achievement of a job well done never failed to cast a warm sense of calm over his soul upon returning to the fire station. The purpose and satisfaction of lives and property saved…and hopefully, in certain situations, arsonists captured and put behind bars…this was the bottom-line for his choice of career. It all came together to fill a need that lay deep within him, as well as the other twenty-three members of the crew. Dark gray smoke billowed low over Charles’ head. In certain places, he could watch as it eerily snaked its way along the ceiling. Soon the writhing gray fog would find its way to the out-of-doors, venting itself through shattered windows at the end of the corridor. His attention was quickly forced back to the present, where he turned the hose on new flames, which licked all about him. He grimaced from the pain in his arm, but he just tried to shake it off. He’d get it looked at later. Determinedly, he fought his way through the aged office building that with every fleeting moment threatened imminent collapse. “Well, where are you?! Come on Utley, do you copy?!” Charles barked into his radio. “Third…third floor,” came the choked reply. “I know that! But where?!” “Near…near the damn window!” Kerwin managed to shout into the walkie-talkie. “That’s a big help, Kerwin. There’s window’s all over the place!” “I do what I can! But right now, I’m sorry to say, that ain’t so much!” “I know buddy,” commiserated his friend. “Try…try the end of the corridor…west! The west end!” Kerwin managed to shout, even as he gasped for his next breath. “Okay, Kerwin. Hang tough, we’re comin’,” Charles reassured, as just one of the two dozen firefighters assigned to Station 101. * * * He knew it would probably end like this one day, firefighter Kerwin Utley thought to himself as he lay pinned beneath a fallen support beam. He’d only thought that his career as a firefighter would have lasted through more than his first month on the job. ‘Of course,’ he thought to himself during a respite wherein he stalwartly willed himself to try and keep his emotions under control. ‘There’ll be hell to pay when I get home tonight.’ The beam had come down unexpectedly. One minute the ceiling had looked scorched, but hadn’t appeared to have burned yet, and wasn’t sagging at all. Then, the next minute, Kerwin found himself violently knocked to the floor amidst a dazzling display of light as a huge shower of flaming embers rained down upon his prone body. He had blacked out, but had rapidly regained consciousness. But it was apparent that he had been unconscious for longer than thirty seconds, as his PASS device had activated. Perhaps it was the raucous, loud screeching beep emanating from the device, which was attached to his SCBA that helped to bring him back to full awareness. Though perhaps being unconscious may have been more preferable at the moment. With the heat of the flames so near his face, Kerwin painfully stretched his arm out to try and reach a portable extinguisher that had apparently fallen from its mounting on the wall. That first attempt having failed, he took a few deep breaths and again he stretched out, trying to grasp the small red cylinder. Finally, as he gasped and panted…with the exertion upon his body being almost too much to endure, the tips of his fingers were just barely able to touch the unit. Patiently working at it…as best he could, and straining to do so, he worked at it until he could maneuver the unit to within his grasp. Dragging it to himself, Kerwin turned the nozzle on snapping flames that were threatening to get a bit too close once again.