A Slow Burn // Brian 'Otis' Zvonecek // Chicago Fire ✔️

62 || SHARK WEEK

Ding.

A cloud of thick, dark grey smoke puffed through the gap as the elevator doors finally opened. It had taken him a long time to regain control of car three but after acquiring some of his expertise, Otis eventually got it moving again.

The horrid stench of burning flesh crept through the gap, polluting the air around him as Otis coughed, the smoke travelling through his nose and down into his lungs. He wafted his hand in front of him as the dust began to settle. His eyes squinted through the smoke, trying their hardest to make out whether there was anything inside the burnt out and charred elevator and for a second he thought it was empty, that was, until he saw them.

Eyes widening, Otis's mouth gaped open. The sting of tears in his eyes was barely noticeable as the dust settled more and he could see clearly now the outline of the bodies. So burnt, so crisp, that they were nothing but shapes. All their unique features were gone but he knew who it was. He could tell by the bodies that it was the mother and her baby.

He stepped forward, despite everything in him telling him not to enter the elevator and he crouched down in front of them. His lip trembled as his eyes traced the length of the small arm of the baby that clung tightly to his mothers chest. The mothers hands melted into the back of her child as she held him close, no doubt doing her best to soothe him in their last waking moments.

Shakily, Otis reached out his hand, hovering it just in front of the mothers face. The tears streaming down his own as he struggled to breath. He should have done more. He should have made sure everyone stayed together. Made sure that no one left the group. And now they were dead. They were dead and it was all his fault.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, his arm falling to his side as a pained cry left his mouth, his chest heaving as it did. He looked down at the ground, the charred and blackened ground before he felt the tight grasp of fingers around his wrist, the touch of which burned and he could feel his skin starting to sizzle beneath the hold. His head shot up and the sight before him made his heart stop.

The severely burned face of the mother began to morph, began to change shape as the colour returned to her face. Her hair sprung back to life but instead of the blonde that Otis remembered she was, it was orange. Riley's orange. The face became more clear to him now as he tried to pull his hand from her grasp but it was useless, her hold on him was too tight and by the time he looked back up at what was once a stranger, he came face to face with his wife.

"How could you let this happen to me?" Riley asked in a weak yet horrifying voice as her fingers gripped his wrist tighter. "How could you let this happen to our child?"

"I'm sorry, baby." Otis sobbed out, falling back against the elevator wall as Riley began to stand up, looking like something from a horror film as her joints bent and cracked, ash falling from her skin. "I'm so sorry... Please. Please forgive me."

"You did this... You caused this." Riley's voice twisted as she spoke, deepening as she got closer to his face, her own skin bubbling from the fire that killed her. "You did this, Brian... Brian... Brian..."

"Brian!" Riley's worried and flustered voice made Otis jump awake, his chest heaving with each breath he took as the t-shirt he wore stuck to his chest with sweat. "Hey, hey, it's okay... You're okay."

It took Otis a few seconds to realise where he was. In his bedroom, in the bed he shared with Riley. Nowhere near that building or the elevator in it. He ran his hands down his face and through his hair, sitting up as a deep, yet breathy groan, almost a sigh, left his lips.