Firefight, by Ian Phillip Foster



    The building was ablaze. Great pillars of orange-yellow flames burst out
of the broken doors and windows, flooding the streets outside with ghastly
yellow light. The thick black volumes of smoke pouring out of the flames
washed straight up into the clear night air, buffeted around by the incredible
force of heat from below.
    The noise was overwhelming. The tinkling of broken glass as more windows
exploded from the pressure and the crash of concrete as parts of the building
flew outwards under the force of the flame were barely heard above the
incessant roar of the fire, hungrily devouring the insides of the large
building. The only noise that could compete was the wail of sirens as the fire
engines drove wildly to the scene of the fire.

    "GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" Firefighter McCraw yelled as he attempted to
steer the speeding engine around yet another group of bystanders staring
blankly at the blazing building. "For Christ's sake! Can't you hear the bloody
SIRENS?!"

    "Over there!" Seargant Travis yelled, pointing to a clear spot near the
building. "Wheels!" he yelled over his shoulder. "I want you on the startup
hose while I get the link to the hydrant! Blackburn, get ready to go in
first!"

    As soon as the engine stopped the six firefighters were outside pulling
open the doors on the back to get out the vital equipment packed inside the
truck. Seargant Travis stopped for a moment to survey the state of the fire.

    "God almighty..." he breathed. It was a big one. The building was at least
six stories high, and by the look of it every floor had caught fire. Which
meant it must have started on or near the bottom floor. He thought for a
moment, years of experience coming to the fore as he planned out how to tackle
the blaze.

    "Blackburn," he yelled to one of his crew. "Get the tank on and get in
there. If you find anyone, get 'em out." There would be another two engines on
the scene within minutes, he knew.
    "Riggs, you and Rookie get the ladder up to that big opening and then soak
it. McCraw, give Blackburn a minute and then follow him in with a hose."

    Leaving them to it, Travis grabbed a section of piping and ran over to the
hydrant he had spotted earlier. Firefighter Dave Scott - nicknamed 'Wheels'
for his unfortunate liking for Skoda's - had already connected up a hose to
the engine's main water tank, and it would run dry within a minute.


    Alan Lewis, 'Blackburn' to the rest of the watch, swung a large tank of
oxygen onto his back and checked the flow of gas to his mask. In a blaze like
this the most dangerous thing would be the smoke given off. As well as
clogging up lungs, the smoke would be so hot that it would easily burn up the
inside of the throat and chest - only a few lungfuls could be fatal. Giving
the thumbs up to McCraw, who was checking his own oxygen, Blackburn ran off
towards the inferno.

    The alarm had gone off only ten minutes ago, waking the watch from their
slumber in the bunks at the station. With practised precision the watch were
up and ready within seconds, the sargeant filling them in as the fire engine
sped through the streets.

    "Large office building ablaze," he had said. "That's good, 'cause there
shouldn't be anyone in there. Also the building's isolated, so there's not
much chance of the fire spreading. On the other hand, the printout states
possible cause of fire as 'mutie fight', which means there could still be
people in the building."


    'Mutie fight,' Lewis thought as he axed his way through the thick wooden
door to the building. 'Christ. What's wrong with 'aving a punch-up outside the
pub on a Saturday night, like the rest of us?' Mutie fights were pretty rare
here. They were the sort of thing that were usually heard of on the news,
happening over in the States - some team of spandex-dressed mutants fighting
some other team of spandex-dressed mutants. They were not the normal occurence
at two o'clock on a Thursday morning in Bristol.

    However, this watch of firefighters were pretty aware of the mutant
situation, with good reason. One of their members, 'Blackburn' Lewis, was a
mutant, born with a strange genetic quirk that gave him powers and abilities
beyond those of his fellow firefighters. At the age of twelve he had
discovered his strange-born ability to manipulate and create fire, to produce
and play with flame as though it was putty. As a side effect of this he had
discovered that he was pretty much fire-proof, unable to be burnt by either
his own fire, or any other fire he was near. At the age of sixteen, when faced
with the choice of continuing his education, or choosing a vocation, he
decided to make use of his abilities, and entered the fire service. Now, at
the age of twenty-five, he hadn't looked back.


    Finally breaking through the doorway, he felt a sudden jolt of force
behind him. Looking round he saw that McCraw had set up a hose, and was
spraying the doorway with water to clear the way a little for him. Repeating
his earlier thumbs up signal he turned and entered the building.

    Inside the building the situation was better than he had expected. The
blaze must have started here on the bottom floor, and he was expecting to find
large amounts of incendiary material supporting the blaze. Fortunately the
ground floor consisted almost entirely of a vast reception area that was
mostly just empty space, meaning the fire had little else here to feed itself
on. Another good thing - the building had lots of large windows, all of which
had been blown out by the fire letting lots of air in to clear the smoke.
Lots of air also meant lots of oxygen to feed the fire on, but at least it
helped clear the most dangerous part of a fire.

    He briefly scoured the ground floor, checking for any survivors, before
clearing some of the chunks of burning wood away from the large doorway. He
then ran up the stairs, ignoring the intense heat of the burning wood under
him. He knew this was not safe. While the heat didn't affect him, it would
stop anyone else from being able to follow him onto the next floor, and the
ladder set up earlier was connecting to at least the third or fourth floors.
For the next few minutes at least he was on his own.


    Outside things were getting a little better. Two more engines had arrived,
and hoses had been set up to every entrance point to the building. Teams of
firefighters were entering the building on almost every floor, the most
important thing at this time being to check for survivors before starting the
proper work of fighting the fire. Ambulances had arrived on the scene, unable
to do anything at the moment, but ready for when people came out of the
building.

    "What's the situation?!" the seargent of another watch yelled, trying to
make himself heard over the roar of the fire.

    "We've got a man just gone in there, and two ready to enter on the third
floor!" Travis yelled back.

    "That your mutie guy?!" Blackburn was known to the other watches in the
area.

    "Yeah! I'm gonna need a couple of guys with me when we follow him in!"

    "Sure, take who you need," the other sargeant replied, deferring to his
authority on the point.

    Taking a quick glance up to check on the two on the ladder, Travis moved
forward to join McCraw at the entrance.


    Inside, Blackburn had reached the next floor, and was trying to see what
the situation was like. The smoke here was a lot thicker; only the intensity
of the burning fires allowed him to see anything. He could make out a
corridor, and could see a couple of rooms, but the smoke was too thick to see
more than a few meters down it. Walking through the thick walls of flame he
was glad of the protection of the oxygen mask. While he was immune to the
effects of the heat, he was as vunerable as anyone else to the dangers of
smoke inhalation. He was also hoping that the buildings structure would stay
stable enough for him to get out again.

    Moving over to the door near him he kicked it open, bracing himself for
the force of backdraft that could come from the room inside. Backdraft was the
name for what sometimes happened when a door was opened on a burning room. The
flames inside would suddenly get a rush of fresh air and oxygen from outside
the room and burst out of the door, literally frying anything in the way.
Blackburn was immune to flames, but the physical kick it provided could still
do him some serious damage.

    He worked his way down the corridor, searching each room for signs of
anyone still there, and clearing a way for the rest of the team where he
could. He was beginning to get worried. There was so much stuff alight on this
floor that if he did find someone, there was no way he could get them out
without them getting seriously burnt, if they weren't already.

    About halfway down the corridor he kicked open another door. Bracing
himself once more for the possible force of a backdraft, he suddenly felt a
huge wash of heat on his back, throwing him forward into the room with enough
force to jar every bone in his body. Falling painfully onto his shoulder, he
managed to roll out of the way and look back through the doorway, just in time
to see the remains of a huge wave of flame licking back through the open
doorway.
    'Huh?!' He was confused. 'Backdraft coming *into* the room?!' Taking deep
breaths from his oxygen mask to help the sudden wave of panic to subside, he
looked around the room, and realized why.

    The room was large, with the many windows smashed open letting large
amounts of air in to feed the flames and wash out the smoke. It was the same
as the ground floor, lots of open space with little material for the fire to
feed on, but lots of wind carrying in precious oxygen. Opening the door had
let all that fresh air flood out into the corridor *behind* him, letting the
fire inside flare up in a burst of oxygen. Not expecting such a large open
space behind this door, he had been unprepared for it.

    At least he could see more in here. Climbing shakily to his feet he saw
that the room itself was no larger than any of the others, but all the walls
between this room and several others surrounding it had been almost completely
obliterated, ripped out as if a bomb had gone off in here. He realized that
this must have been where the mutie fight set the fire off.

    Once more giving silent thanks for his mutant abilities he carefully
started searching the rooms. He realised that if he did find anyone here, the
only way to take them was up - with the extra air given to the fire behind in
the corridor there was no way anyone except him was making it out through that
way.

    Searching through the rooms was taking time. There was too much rubble and
concrete around to have to check. He had been in the building for five minutes
now, and there was little chance of anyone surviving that long in this
inferno.

    Then he saw someone. He ran over to the body and knelt down beside it. It
was a woman, and by some incredible miracle she was lying in a spot that was
almost clear of flame, with only the occasional cloud of smoke passing over
her. Apart from the ash covering her, and some burnt edges of her clothing,
she appeared almost unharmed.
    He found himself staring for a second. She was beautiful - her perfect
face and short, blood red hair as dangerously powerful as the raging inferno
around her.

    He knelt down to check if she was still breathing. She was. That was
almost impossible. Even the heat of the air itself in here should have killed
her within seconds. He looked up around him and began to figure out how to get
her out of here. Going anywhere at all would mean taking her nearer to the
flames and the smoke, but he would have to move her to get her outside. Taking
her downstairs was out of the question, which meant they would have to go up.

    For a fraction of a second the smoke cleared and he got a view across the
large space infront of them. About twenty feet away were the stairs leading up
to the next floor. The two who set up the ladder should be clearing that floor
by now, hopefully joined by firefighters from other watches. If he could get
her up to that floor they could take her out and down the ladder. But to do
that she would need some protection from the fire.

    Taking advantage of the area of relative calm he slipped the oxygen tank
off his back and removed his fire jacket and helmet. His mutant abilities
meant that he didn't really need them. Putting the oxygen tank back over his
shoulders he carefully wrapped the woman as much as he could in his jacket,
wrapping it around as much of her vital areas as he could cover. To protect
her head he placed his helmet over her, almost covering her entire head.

    Taking several deep breaths from his mask to flood his system with oxygen,
he picked her up, pulled her close, and removed his mask, placing it over her
mouth and nose to supply her with much needed air. He was concious, and could
control his breathing. She wasn't, and wouldn't last ten seconds breathing in
the thick smoke.

    Moving quickly he picked her up and carried her towards the spot where he
had seen the stairs. He hugged her close, trying to use his body to shield her
from the flames they were moving through. Without his helmet it was more
difficult to see, the smoke made his eyes fill with water every time he opened
them, but within a minute he had made it to the stairs. Stopping for a moment
he breathed out, lifted the mask from the womans' face and quickly took in a
deep breath of air, getting himself ready for the next floor.

    Running up the stairs, turning his body every now and then to bear the
brunt of the flames, he realised that he didn't know where the ladder was from
inside the building. He would have to just hope the other firefighters found
him soon enough.


    He reached the next floor and stopped dead. There was a whole pile of
burning material blocking the corridor in front of them, and no way round it
that he could see. The smoke from it was pouring away from them, meaning it
must be clearer on the other side of the blockage. There was no way he could
manually pull away enough of the burning wood and concrete for them to get
through, even if he wasn't holding the woman next to him.

    Taking another deep breath from the shared oxygen mask he concentrated for
a moment, and stretched out his arm to the pile of rubble. He had to be very
careful about this, using the utmost skill to avoid burning the woman, or
making the fire worse than it was. Holding her as far away from his arm as he
could, he blasted out a jet of flame towards the blockage, feeling the
currents of heat flowing out of his arm and into the center of the pile. For
an intense few seconds he pushed his fire into the pile, burning away as much
as he could, and using the force of the heat to push away the remaining
wreckage.

    A couple of lumps of wood fell down next to him, narrowly missing the two
of them. He looked up just in time to see the roof above cave in as a result
of the intense heat in the area. Instantly he dropped to the ground, covering
the woman's body with his own as the roof fell about them. Mostly there was
just dust, but then large chunks of wood started falling onto them. He had to
get them both out of there - they didn't stand much chance if the whole floor
above came through. Praying that he'd cleared enough of the debris out of the
way, he picked up the woman and ran into the pile, crashing through it with
his body to stop the burning wood from getting onto the woman.

    He was almost through when a large chunk of the ceiling above fell on
them, almost knocking him to the floor. In the sudden shock of it he couldn't
avoid taking a breath, and breathed in the smoke and dust in the air around
them. Coughing violently from the sudden intake, he forced his way through the
rest of the debris, praying for someone to see him on the other side.

    They did. Staggering from the effects of smoke in his lungs he felt people
round him, taking the woman off of him and supporting him. Unable to avoid
breathing in more of the smoke he collapsed, and let himself be taken out by
the other firefighters.


    He opened his eyes a while later to find himself sitting on the back step
of an ambulance. A paramedic was holding an oxygen mask to his face, and he
was wrapped up in a large blanket.

    "How're you doing?" Seargent Travis was standing nearby.

    "I've been better" he said weakly, pulling the mask away from his face.
"How's the woman I picked up?"

    "Thanks to you, she's alive. Although I'll never understand how she
survived as long as she did before you got there."

    "What's the situation?" He tried to stand up, but started coughing and had
to take several deep breaths from the oxygen mask.

    "Never mind that for the moment. You'll be going to the hospital to get
your lungs sorted out, and we'll see you there."

    "But..."

    Travis leant forward and squeezed his shoulder. "Look, you did good
tonight, son. Now go to hospital and get better."

    "Yes, Sarge."


                *               *               *

    He was lying on the hospital bed feeling out of place and ill when the
nurse came and asked for him. He had been there for a couple of hours while
they fed him large amounts of high-oxygen air to clear his lungs and help him
recover from the effects of the smoke, and he was beginning to feel
uncomfortable, lying on the clean sheets in a clean sterile hospital while
covered in the soot and grime of the fire. He was desperately wanting a
shower. The seargent and McCraw had checked in to see how he was doing, and
had then moved on to check on other firefighters who had come in to the
hospital with injuries.

    "Mr Lewis?" the nurse asked as she entered the cubicle.

    "Yeah?" he replied, thinking 'when can I go home?'

    "The young lady you rescued is asking to see you. Do you feel up to
visiting her?"

    "She's awake?" he asked in astonishment.

    "Remarkably, yes. Not only that but she's in almost perfect health, and,
as I say, is asking to see you."

    "Um, sure, yeah. Where is she?"

    "Just follow me."



    He opened the door, went in and stopped dead. She was sitting up in her
bed looking at him. He'd never realized someone could look so beautiful even
in a hospital gown. Her face looked radiant now she was awake, full of a
powerful beauty, and her eyes... green eyes...

    "Hi," she said, stopping his train of thought abruptly.

    "How're you feelin', ma'am?" He stood with his hands behind his back,
retreating into his formal firefighters training while he attempted to recover
his composure.

    "I'd feel better if you didn't call me 'ma'am', "she replied, smiling at
him. "My name's Rachel."

    "Rachel." He returned the smile.

    "They told me you saved my life. Thank you."

    "Just doing my job." he said simply.

    "Yeah, well. It was more than that to me. I'm a mutant, like you." She
must have picked up on his reaction. "Yeah, they told me that as well. My
powers could protect me from a fire, but they only work when I'm conscious,
I think. And thanks to you I didn't have to find out tonight."

    "Yer welcome, Rachel." He somehow got the impression that nothing could
hurt her. "I'm just glad you weren't hurt."

    "Well, the way I see it, you saved my life. If there's anything I can do
for you, you just have to ask."

    "Well, uh..." She's beautiful, he thought. She'll probably say no, but I
can ask... "I was thinkin', if you're feelin' up to it, could I take you out
to dinner tomorrow?"

    She stood up and smiled. "I'd like that. 7:30, your place?"

    "Uh... yeah, fine. I'll write down my address."

    "Don't worry. I'll find it." She turned towards the window just as it
sprang open, of its own accord. He realised she was using her mutant
abilities.

    "Well, I'd better go. See you tomorrow, 7:30."

    "You're leaving?"

    "Yup. I'd better get back to my friends, they'll be worried about me."

    "But how're you getting back home?" he asked, slightly confused.

    "Watch." She lifted her arms, and floated gently out of the window.
Hanging in the air she turned round to face him and blew him a kiss. In a
sudden burst of flame she changed what she was wearing to a form fitting
costume of red and gold, and the flames licking round her form spread out
around her, forming a large bird of fire in the air in front of him. With a
last smile she flew off and soon disappeared into the night sky.

    He leant his arms against the windowsill and watched her leave. With mouth
agape he breathed the only response he could think of.

    "Bloody 'ell..."




Copyright 1996 Ian Phillip Foster for The Common People.