“Get out, Alexia. Now!”
“Got to check the closet first, sir.”
“Get your tail outta there. Immediately!”
She needed air. How had her oxygen run out? She should have had at least another five minutes. Reaching up, she disconnected the hose from her tank and shoved it up under her
heavy turnout. The coat would protect her as much as possible from smoke inhalation. And she wanted to minimize
the blast of hot air that would fill her lungs. She caught a breath.The dizziness receded.The countdown was on. The decision:leave or check the closet? She scanned the imaging device over the door. Bingo. “I’ve got something. Definitely a child.”
“Alexia! Get out!”
“She’s here, sir. Can’t leave without her.”
Alexia went to the door and turned the knob. A little girl. The child looked up at
her, eyes wide, stark terror stamped on her tear-streaked features. Then she coughed and her eyes rolled back. Alexia slung the imager over her shoulder and leaned in to pick up the little girl. Alexia took another breath and coughed.
Dizziness returned full force and she went to one knee. Vaguely, she felt the
sweat roll down her back. “I’m in trouble,” she said into her radio, keeping her cool,refusing to panic. Help was just a second away. “Where’s RIT? No air.”
She pulled in a lungful of smoke this time.Coughing, sputtering, she turned with the child, frantic to get her out before the flames caught up with the smoke.
And then the spots before her eyes merged into one big black dot. Then nothing.
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