“You feel that?” I ask him, and he nods quietly, knowing as well as I what we’re about to be walking into.
“My money’s on crack.” He shouts as we come to a stop, hopping off the back of the truck with me.
“Nah, that’s meth. It’s too hot not to be,” I say, jogging up to the side of the truck with him, opening the door to talk to Phoenix. “Baby stay in this truck and keep your head down. If this house blows, fall to the floor and cover yourself.” I yell to her as I slam the door shut again and slap it, making sure it’s latched and safe.
She’ll be okay if she stays inside. She needs to. I can’t be worrying about her when I’m working. I need all of my focus on the bitch that rages inside the drug house. I can’t be distracted by thinking about what can happen to her because of some druggie’s fucking kitchen.
Then maybe you shouldn’t have brought her. How can we have fun if she’s here?
“Shut up.”
Adjusting my tank and putting my respirator in my mouth, I storm up to the house, my boots clunking loudly on the sidewalk as I stalk the bitch of a blaze.
“Hey, the fire whisperer is here.” I hear one of the guys from the other station say as I push past him, ignoring his comment. “You gonna talk to it or something.”
“Fuck you.” I spit out around my mouth piece.
The front door is already open, and flames spew out from the warped frame. An acidic smell is in the air and it burns my eyes even past my mask. It’s the unmistakable smell of acetone and phenylephrine mixed together, the number two ingredients for crank, meth, ice, gak, whatever you want to call the crystalized shit that these guys cook up in their makeshift labs. It’s also highly explosive.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where the heart of the beast will lay. She’ll be amongst the tubs of chemicals and beakers of rocks. She’ll be weaving around the counters and rushing around on the floor like snakes slithering in a pit. Meth house fires are nasty bitches, but I’m nastier.
“Ready?” I ask the voice in my head, the one who always guides me through all these fires. If nothing else, even ifhedrives me mad with his arguing and insane theories and words,he’salways seen me through this job. I hatehim, but I don’t know what I would do withouthim.
Let’s rock and roll baby.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Flames lick at me, hissing and popping as I step into the front entrance. The water from the hose behind me keeps most of it back, but it still reaches for me like an ethereal entity from hell. Its fingers grab at my jacket, and tickle my skin through the fire proof material, making my chest burn more than before.
The floor is warped, the intense heat lifting up the wooden boards, and the walls are scorched black with thick layers of smoke already coating them. The ceiling is crumbling, and as I make my way through a front foyer area a large chunk of plaster falls in front of me, dusting me with the white powder and most likely asbestos from this being such an old structure.
Houses in the inner city are mostly from the previous century, and the chemicals used in their production can be as deadly as the fires that rage through them, adding another level of danger to my work. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I like it, I revel in it, I love it.
Love huh?
“Yeah. Hmmm.”
So you do know the word. So why won’t you say it to her?
“Not now.”
Why not? Seems as good a time as any. You’ve got this. Meth house, fire, easy-peasy.
“One that hasn’t blown yet asshole. Now focus.”
Fine. Go to the left, through the living room, kitchen is in back.
“Thank you. Dick.”
You do love her though; I can feel it. I know you can too. You’re just too chicken shit to say it.
“I said not now.” I yell tohimas I make my way through the burning living room of the house, climbing over a large sectional sofa, and pushing a TV stand out of my way. It topples over, and the television screen pops as it hits the floor, flashing a bright light through the room for a millisecond.
“Fuck dude, you startled me.” Marcus bitches behind me, blasting the shattered television with the hose, skittering it across the wooden floor.
“Suck it up buttercup.” I laugh to him. “Serves you right for looking at my woman.”
