Backfire (22 page)

The press had practically been knocking down the front door of the station house.  Not just media from Austin, but from all over the place.  He gave the basics and answered only what they asked, but refused to say much when questions of his decisions were brought up.  He hadn’t been sleeping well and wondered if he had made the right call.  It would be a matter of time before they were presumed dead, basically meaning to the general public that they had given up.

When he got to the firehouse that morning, several reporters were already there, blocking the door. 

“Lieutenant Harlan, can you give us any information on the two missing firefighters?” A young woman shoved the microphone in his face and the light from the camera was blinding.  “Any information is welcome.”

“No comment.  I’d like to get into my office if you don’t mind.”

“Is it true that one of them is with the FDNY?”

Harlan stopped in his tracks, hoping his facial expression and body language didn’t give them any hints.  How in the hell did she know that? Where did she hear it?  “I have nothing to say at the moment.” He finally pushed through the group and unlocked the door.  He was able to get it shut before anyone fought their way through.  Leaning on the other side, he could hear them all outside, reporting back to whomever it was they had to answer to.

“They aren’t going to go away for the duration of thi
s mess.”  Harlan
knew the voice instantly.  His presence could be construed as good or bad and he was certain right now it was bad. 

“Mayor,
to what do I owe this surprise
?” He stuck his hand out and shook his hand, nervous as hell on the inside. 

“I came to talk about your two men.  You know why I’m here.”

Harlan shook his head.  “Talk to the chief.”

Smirking, the mayor picked a paperweight up off of Harlan’s desk.  “You and I both know that you should be the chief.  You’re the one having to make the calls around here.  He’s practically been M.I.A. through this whole thing.”  He put the paperweight down.  “Speaking of making calls.  I support you one hundred percent. Don’t listen to those naysayers.”

“Thank you, Mayor.  That means a lot to me.” He poured a cup of coffee and offered him one as well. 

“Which pains me to say this, Lieutenant.  I think you we need to declare them dead and move on.”

Harlan
slammed his mug down.  “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think you’re in a position to make that decision, now are you?”

“No, I’m not.  But be aware that other departments have also suggested this.  Other men who have had more years on a truck than you have.  Who have seen more casualties than you have.”

“There’s a way into the area where we think they are.  It’s just taking some time to get to it because of visibilities and getting vehicles up in there.”

The mayor sipped on his coffee.  “It’s two lives compared to how many?  We need to refocus on the civilians and getting this fire put out.  We can’t waste any more time.  The fire is rapidly growing and headed right toward the city of Bastrop. We have all of those lives to think about, too. The chances of the two of them even being alive anymore are slim to none.  You need to think about it.”  

Harlan didn’t know what to say.  He had a good point, but the decision to declare them dead just didn’t feel right.  He was too nauseous to finish his coffee.  He walked to his desk and sat down, the mayor right behind him, following his every step.  He wished he would just wake up from this nightmare. 

“The decision is to declare them dead.  Other departments are on board with this.  That’s what the press will be told, too.  I know it is a bitter pill to swallow Lieutenant, but you’ve gotta think about all of the victims in harm’s way.  Your sole purpose is to get them to safety, not focus all of your time and energy on this.  We are already lacking in manpower as it is.”

Harlan didn’t like it one bit, but he shook his head yes.  “Okay, Mayor.  We’ll go with what you and the other departments are suggesting.”  Deep down
,
he knew that he wouldn’t stop looking, even if it meant doing it unofficially.  He couldn’t bring himself to give up on two of his men.  They would do the same thing for him if it were all reversed. 

Chapter Seventeen

Michael still couldn’t believe that he had made the decision so fast to be left behind if they didn’t pick the pace up.  With the way the day had been going, he had been moving slower than earlier.  With each gasp he took in it felt as if it became harder and harder to fill his lungs up with air.  The wound in his side had transitioned from a burning sensation to a deep ache in the pit of his stomach.  He could tell that Lawton wanted to move faster, and saw the frustration in the other man’s face when he continuously had to stop to allow Michael to catch up. 

He felt incompetent, like he was a child or an old man that was bringing everyone down.  Stopping, he grabbed a tree trunk to brace himself and keep his balance.  His posture slouched and he closed his eyes to try and catch his breath.  His backside slid down the trunk until he was sitting on the ground.  He was so weak that he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to get back up when it came time. 

“McGinnis, are you okay?”  Lawton put Trevor down and knelt beside him, opening his fire coat to check the wound.  “Shit, you’re bleeding again.”

Michael forced a smile at Trevor, glancing at the boy through half open eyes.  The tape around the gauze pulled at his hairs as Lawton took the bandage off and applied more medicine.  He tried to hide the fact that it was getting harder to catch his breath, but the loud wheezing escaping from his chest would be obvious that something was going on. 

“Is the wound still hurting?” Lawton asked.  “I’m going to leave the bandage off while we rest so we can get some air to it.  It’s bleeding pretty profusely right now.”

Michael stared at Lawton for a second, unsure of what the man was asking.  “What was your… question?”  He couldn’t even get through talking without having to pause. 

“Is the wound hurting? Or how about I rephrase.  On a scale from one to ten, ten being the worst, how is your pain?”

Michael rested his head back on the tree and closed his eyes.  If he were to listen to his body at that very moment, he’d have passed out right there.  He was so exhausted that it was as if someone had weighted down his eyelids. 

“It’s about a seven, I guess.” He licked his lips and felt no moisture.  They were cracked and chapped and the inside of his mouth was pasty.  “I don’t think that’s my main worry right now.”  No matter how deep of a breath he took, it wasn’t helping him. 

“What do you mean?”

“Something… something’s going on with my chest.” He adjusted his weight on the ground.  It was a mistake.  The ache inside the wound was sharp.  He could feel the warmth of the blood flow from his side. 

Lawton leaned in against him and pulled away, his expression distraught.  “Damn it, Mikey. Damn it.”  He reached for his mask and turned his tank on, applying to Michael’s face.  It felt good to breathe the smoke free air, but he was still unable to take it all in.  “Your chest sounds like it’s crackling.”

Michael pushed the air away. “Save it.  I’m not getting much anyway.”  He balled his fists up as more discomfort shot through every bit of his body, from his head, to his chest, all the way down his side.  “It’s like…” He stared at Lawton for a few seconds, losing his train of thought. 

“It’s like what, Mikey?”

“I can’t really describe it… It’s like… like when you suck through a straw with a hole in it.” His head ached with every pulse.  He closed his eyes again and all he could see was the fire wall every time he did it.  He felt trapped like when he and Casey were trapped in the warehouse Viper had lit on fire.  They were surrounded on every end and there was no way he was going to make however many more miles they had to go to get to safety.  Michael tried hard not to panic.  The more he became stressed, the worse his breathing got.  What was going on with his body?  Was this what dying felt like?

“Jesus, it sounds like you’ve got a punctured lung.”  Lawton grabbed the mask and put it back up to Michael’s face, only for him to turn his head and refuse it again.  “It’ll help, Mikey.  It’ll give you some energy. Just put it on.”

Michael pushed it away.  “No. Save it for you and Trevor whenever you gotta get through the smoke wall and get outta here.  No use wasting it if it’s not even working anyway.”

“You’re coming with us.”  Lawton handed him the canteen.  “Drink up and eat another granola bar.”

“No.  I’m not hungry.  You two need it.  You’re healthy.  I’m just the flat tire holding you back.”  Michael felt the urge to throw up again and leaned to the side, only for a small bit of stomach acid to come up.  The jolting in his abdomen was harsh and he reached down to touch the wound, shocked at the amount of blood that was on his palm.  “How much closer has the fire gotten?”

“We’ve walked about two miles.  It’s closer than it was, but we still have time.”

Michael grasped some dirt beneath his hands and gritted his teeth.  “Two miles? That’s it?”  There was no way they’d all three make it out alive if they continued to backtrack for him. 

Lawton pulled out some fresh gauze and applied it to the punctured area.  Groaning, Michael tried to pull away from the man, but his energy was minimal and he lost the battle.  Lawton put firm pressure on it with one hand, while he held his other arm around Michael’s chest to keep him from moving away. 

“I’m doing this to try to get the bleeding to stop.  I’m not leaving you, not yet.  We’re still okay.”

Michael pushed at Lawton’s arm and struggled.  He cringed and yelled before he finally gave up.  It was as if he was going up against a brick wall and the pain was so strong that he began to see stars.  “You stubborn son of a… son of a bitch.”

Lawton smirked and put another fresh gauze square on him.  “Calm down, Mikey.  You’re gonna aggravate that lung even worse.”

“I’m serious.  Get the kid out, God damn it.”  Michael felt sweat sting his eyes. The sun was showing through the thick smoke above them, looking similar to a foggy day that was beginning to burn off.

“And what if we go over the hill right up there and that’s where the opening is we need to get out?  What if our destination is only a few miles away?” Lawton glared at him.  “I’m cleaning this wound up, you’re drinking some of that water, and we’re gonna get moving again.”

“What if I don’t get up and follow you?”  Michael didn’t want to be defiant about it, but Lawton really wasn’t in charge of him.  Would he be that brave if it even came down to it?  When it came to Trevor, it seemed like a simple decision to make.

“I’ll carry you.  From the looks of it, you don’t have much strength left to fight me off. I’ve carried people over my shoulder twice as big as you, McGinnis.  Anything it takes.”

In a way, Michael was relieved that Lawton was being headstrong.  Deep inside he knew that the fire was still far enough away, giving them a slim chance for survival.  He just didn’t want it to get so close that they got Trevor out at the last second.  He wanted them to have plenty of time.

Michael grabbed his arm, hoping his grip was as forceful as it felt.  “You promised me you’d get Trevor out if we were running out of time.”

Lawton looked back at the progress they had made and then back to Michael.  “I said we’d cross that bridge when we got to it.  From what I can tell, we’re close to making that decision, but we ain’t quite there yet.”

***

Eva hadn’t slept well since she had gotten the news about Mikey.  It was as if she was constantly watching news of the fires.  The New York channels weren’t saying much, but once the word got to them about an FDNY man missing in the midst of it all, they picked up their stories and coverage on it.  A few reporters had even stopped by the firehouse to ask questions about him.  She wasn’t sure who had let it slip, but one of the reporters knew she was in a relationship with him, and cornered her outside the garage one evening when she was headed home after a shift.

She didn’t answer any questions and pushed through the crowd, lost in her own haze.  The captain gave her time off, despite the fact that she didn’t have any more accrued vacation or sick days left.  Her mind wasn’t in the work.  She’d respond to a call and not even hear the complaint from the victim. 

It was a catch twenty-two.  She hated being at work, but she hated being at home as well.  Her mind wouldn’t turn off.  The firehouse had constant reminders of Mikey all over the place.  She had a hard time going into the kitchen in the morning where the coffee machine waited, along with the New York Times paper sitting there for Mikey to pick up and read. 

At home it was even worse.  His scent was slowly leaving his side of the bed, so she tried hard not to sleep on it.  His clothes were still all hung in the same spot in the closet.  All of his belongings were there, haunting Eva.  At the same time, she tried to find hope in it.  Maybe if she left it all the same, he’d find his way through the fires and come home. 

She ran her fingers over the picture frames that held photos of Mikey and her.  There was one on the shelf beside the TV that always made her smile.  It was at Christmas, both of them reaching up to put the star on the tree, not even watching what they were doing as they kissed. A solitary tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away, turning back to the TV.