approached the burning home. With the pickaxe on his shoulder, blanket hood, and only a goggle-covered, masked face visible, Diana wondered if he wouldn’t scare the occupants to death before the fire could overwhelm them.
One kick from his size 14 boot made short work of the door, the breech greeted by a new column of dark, toxic smoke rolling from the top of the threshold. Stay low , he reminded himself. Heat rises, and the poisonous air will go with it.
The living room was dense with confused clouds of brown and black haze. Nick dropped to his knees, the blanket-shield making it difficult to crawl. He guessed the layout of the two-story home would position the master bedroom on the first floor, the child’s room above.
Deciding to bend low at the waist rather than crawl, he could see flames spreading through the kitchen area and the back of the house. Despite his wrapping of wet cloth, the heat was intense. The rapidly spreading blaze suddenly illuminated the staircase, and Nick headed that way. His passage was blocked by a completely engulfed china cabinet that had collapsed across the hall, two of its legs weakened from incineration. Using the axe with one hand, he quickly splintered the blockage and then hopped over the smoldering remains.
He passed the door to the master bedroom on the way to the stairs. Peering inside, the smoke cleared just enough to make out the outline of at least one person lying in the bed. The curtains and part of the carpeting were already fueling the fiery beast, and visibility was degrading by the second.
Nick leaned the axe against the wall and moved to the bed. A man, probably in his early 30s, was lying in the hazy air, his mouth wide open as if grasping for breath. Nick pulled back the covers and watched for a moment, relieved when the fellow’s chest shuddered with a weak inhalation.
Nick scooped up the man, effortlessly tossing the unresponsive body over his shoulder. His intent was to return to the front door, but the living room ceiling was now engulfed and sagging. Turning back, he realized the back door leading from the kitchen was an inferno and impassable.
Using his left hand while holding onto his limp cargo with his right, Nick swung the blade hard at the bedroom window. The glass gave way without any problem, the remaining shards removed with a few circles of the axe head.
Nick started to climb out with his survivor, but a thundering collapse sounded behind him. Realizing he wasn’t going to be able to climb the stairs if he waited much longer, Nick lowered the rescued body out the window as far as he could and then flung it with a heave. The man landed with a thud, but Nick was sure the guy would prefer sore to dead.
Nick turned to find the firestorm had fully invaded the bedroom and was blocking his exit. The now open window was a magnet for the smoke, which blocked everything from view except the red-hot flames sprouting through the poisonous fog. Twisting low to the opening, he took two breaths of the cleanest air available and then held a final lung full.
Charging like a linebacker, Nick entered the inferno moving as if he were being chased by hell’s hounds. It was only a few steps to the stairs, but those were some of the most frightening footfalls he could ever remember. Red embers filled the air, competing with hot whisks of fumes and boiling, angry spouts of flame. Foul, sulfuric-thick vapors swirled around his head, the venomous clouds riding the thermals generated by the incineration of tinder. By the time he reached the bottom step, his blanket was steaming, and he could sense the heat through the soles of his boots.
Taking the steps two at a time, Nick found himself in even denser haze. Going prone, he could barely detect four doors surrounding the small landing. Picking the closest one, he again held his breath and found the knob, feeling for the latch more from memory than being able to see in the dense, toxic fog.
The door yielded, but inside
One kick from his size 14 boot made short work of the door, the breech greeted by a new column of dark, toxic smoke rolling from the top of the threshold. Stay low , he reminded himself. Heat rises, and the poisonous air will go with it.
The living room was dense with confused clouds of brown and black haze. Nick dropped to his knees, the blanket-shield making it difficult to crawl. He guessed the layout of the two-story home would position the master bedroom on the first floor, the child’s room above.
Deciding to bend low at the waist rather than crawl, he could see flames spreading through the kitchen area and the back of the house. Despite his wrapping of wet cloth, the heat was intense. The rapidly spreading blaze suddenly illuminated the staircase, and Nick headed that way. His passage was blocked by a completely engulfed china cabinet that had collapsed across the hall, two of its legs weakened from incineration. Using the axe with one hand, he quickly splintered the blockage and then hopped over the smoldering remains.
He passed the door to the master bedroom on the way to the stairs. Peering inside, the smoke cleared just enough to make out the outline of at least one person lying in the bed. The curtains and part of the carpeting were already fueling the fiery beast, and visibility was degrading by the second.
Nick leaned the axe against the wall and moved to the bed. A man, probably in his early 30s, was lying in the hazy air, his mouth wide open as if grasping for breath. Nick pulled back the covers and watched for a moment, relieved when the fellow’s chest shuddered with a weak inhalation.
Nick scooped up the man, effortlessly tossing the unresponsive body over his shoulder. His intent was to return to the front door, but the living room ceiling was now engulfed and sagging. Turning back, he realized the back door leading from the kitchen was an inferno and impassable.
Using his left hand while holding onto his limp cargo with his right, Nick swung the blade hard at the bedroom window. The glass gave way without any problem, the remaining shards removed with a few circles of the axe head.
Nick started to climb out with his survivor, but a thundering collapse sounded behind him. Realizing he wasn’t going to be able to climb the stairs if he waited much longer, Nick lowered the rescued body out the window as far as he could and then flung it with a heave. The man landed with a thud, but Nick was sure the guy would prefer sore to dead.
Nick turned to find the firestorm had fully invaded the bedroom and was blocking his exit. The now open window was a magnet for the smoke, which blocked everything from view except the red-hot flames sprouting through the poisonous fog. Twisting low to the opening, he took two breaths of the cleanest air available and then held a final lung full.
Charging like a linebacker, Nick entered the inferno moving as if he were being chased by hell’s hounds. It was only a few steps to the stairs, but those were some of the most frightening footfalls he could ever remember. Red embers filled the air, competing with hot whisks of fumes and boiling, angry spouts of flame. Foul, sulfuric-thick vapors swirled around his head, the venomous clouds riding the thermals generated by the incineration of tinder. By the time he reached the bottom step, his blanket was steaming, and he could sense the heat through the soles of his boots.
Taking the steps two at a time, Nick found himself in even denser haze. Going prone, he could barely detect four doors surrounding the small landing. Picking the closest one, he again held his breath and found the knob, feeling for the latch more from memory than being able to see in the dense, toxic fog.
The door yielded, but inside
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