“This woman’s vibrator was stuck in her, you know. She couldn’t get it out. Not knowing what else to do, she called 911.”
“OMG!” Woods exclaimed.
“How embarrassing,” added Flores.
Waylon’s face turned beet red as he tried to hold in an explosive laugh.
“What did you do?” Flash asked as amusement tickled her from the inside.
“Al Luis ran back to the ambo to collect ‘gear,’ leaving me to deal,” Nita explained. “I took a look with a penlight and a speculum, but it looked pretty deep. What’s more, it was still vibrating away. So we loaded her up and drove her to the ER.”
“Ah, you mean you didn’t dive in to the rescue?” Flash teased.
Nita pursed her lips and narrowed her brow. “It’s not the kind of procedure I perform every day, you know, and it wasn’t life-threatening. Maybe I could have extracted the device safely, but, as the paramedic in charge, I made a judgment call to let the ER handle it. Would you have handled the situation differently?” Nita stared at her, arrows of challenge shooting from her dark eyes.
Unable to contain herself, laughter bubbled from Flash’s mouth, and she shook her head. “Nope. Not at all. I’m not getting sued for poking around some woman’s privates, even if it was all clinical.”
“You’re kidding, right?” asked Woods. “I mean, really?”
Before Nita could confirm, the alarm bell blared through the firehouse. “Engine Eight, Engine One, Squad Eight, Ambulance Eight, residence fire at 1200 Andrews Street. Possible victims inside.”
Levity shifted to serious resolve as Flash set Snuffles aside and sprang from her chair. “Stay,” she commanded, stern finger pointed. The pup licked her lips, eyeing her nervously as she sat, her tail curled in and ears drooped. The firefighter raced with her crewmembers to their waiting gear, stepping into bunker pants and boots, yanking up suspenders, shrugging into coats, and grabbing hats and gloves. Masks, tanks, and other gear were already on the engine. The siren screamed, lights whirred, and the shiny red truck sped out to meet the danger. Everything else vanished as Flash’s full attention focused on the task at hand.
“A neighbor called it in,” Lieutenant Edwards briefed the team as Waylon laid on the horn, passing stopped traffic at an intersection. “Unknown if the family—two adults, three kids—made it out. They are our top priority, seconded by halting the spread of the fire. The houses in this neighborhood are shake-hands-through-the-windows close together, two-story, wood-framed with asphalt shingle roofs. We know what that means.”
Flash comprehended exactly what the situation entailed. With no rain in weeks and the current heat, flames could easily spread to consume house after house in the row. She secured the lacing on her boots as he continued.
“Captain O’Riley is en route to supervise the operation. Stay sharp and stay safe.”
“Copy that,” Woods replied.
Flash reran safety protocols in her head, knowing every blaze was different. The firetruck screeched to a halt, and they piled out, making haste to pick up an ax or Hallagan, masks, and oxygen tanks, whatever they’d need. Woods and Flores unrolled a hose, running the end to the nearest hydrant. A group of neighbors cluttered up the front lawn, pointing and fretting.
“Move back, people,” ordered Captain Jake as he took center point. Flames tore up the house’s left side, with smoke billowing from a broken window on the second floor. Flash itched to get inside, impatient for her leader to get on with his instructions.
How would I handle it?she wondered.
“Engine One, get water on the house next door and shut this down in its tracks. Engine Eight, half of you shoot a line on the roof, and the others take a hose inside to assist and back up squad clearing the residence. Ambo, stand by to receive burn or smoke inhalation victims. Let’s move it!”
Flash grabbed the nozzle end of the hose while Waylon screwed the connection to the hydrant two houses down. They had enough line, so Flash wasn’t worried about that. Just as Lieutenant Edwards stepped onto the front porch, the squad crew behind him, the door flew open. Out rushed a frantic woman clutching a screaming baby.
“My husband and other children are inside! I don’t know what happened,” she cried. “Suddenly there was smoke, then fire bursting out everywhere. I had to get the baby first.”
“Yes, ma’am, you did.” Jackson from squad took her elbow, leading her toward the ambulance. “We’ll get them. You come over here so the medics can check you and the baby out.”
“Fire department!” Edwards shouted as he breached the doorway. Flash and Waylon squeezed in behind him to get water on the blaze before the squad team entered. “Search the ground floor first,” he directed the rescue squad members. “Adams, Cash, open her up!”
Flash opened the valve while Waylon, tight behind her, used his strength to control the high-pressure hose. As they pushed their way deeper into the front of the house, a man stumbled down the stairs, rolling up at their feet. Shutting off the hose, Flash helped him to stand.
“Help, upstairs!” he yelled, wide-eyed with terror. “I can’t reach them, too hot, flames too high. They’re alive, I heard them!”
“Yes, sir, we’ll get them,” Flash assured him. “But you need to go outside.”
The man stared at her in anger before coughing into his elbow. “No way! My kids are up there. I have to—”
“You have to come with me,” Waylon directed. Dropping the hose, he clapped his hands around the father’s arm. The guy was big, brawny, and must have had fifty pounds on Flash. Of the two of them, only Waylon could drag him from the burning house.
“Let me go!” he protested, thrashing like a bear. With a nod to Flash, Waylon restrained the homeowner and dragged him to the door.
