Meet me in the Middle

Chapter 19

"What the hell, Bishop!?" Beckett chases the dark cloud away just as I feared he would and pulls me from the flames. He pats me down looking for something before pulling back, with my oxygen gage in his hand. The alarm was more prominent now and when I look down with him, I'm shocked to see that my oxygen levels were on 0%.

It takes me a while to come back to reality, and to take inventory of my surroundings. My hands are on fire, but I don't know if it's from burns caused by the flames or from the strain I put on them to keep the non-stop pressure of the hose going.

My turnouts are soaked through with sweat from the close proximity of the suffocating heat. From the terrified look on Beckett's face, I can safely assume that the façade I had in place when I ran into the building slipped when my inner demons began a war in the darkest depths of my soul.

I try to take a deep breath as part of a grounding technique, but I'm hardly able to choke on one molecule of air. Shit! My heavy limbs, the tunnel vision, the tightness around my chest, it all makes sense now.

My brain was trying to send signals to my oxygen deprived body that we were in danger. "Fuck, Bishop. Fuck! Breathe!" Beckett hooks his spare nozzle to my mask as soon as I start gasping for air. He allows me to take a few big breaths of pure oxygen before he hits me in the shoulder out of fear from what he just witnessed me almost accomplish.

"Incident Command, come in." He grabs me by the back of the neck and forces eye contact until he is satisfied that I was back. Chief Ross answers Beckett's call. "Chief. We have a situation here. Our last EDBA is defective. The gage showed half a tank a few minutes ago, but the alarm just went off and we're currently sharing oxygen at 40%." I give my friend a small smile in gratitude for not narking on me.

I'm back in full control of my mind and body and go back to fighting the fire at a safe distance. Chief Ross informs us that the Ready Team is gearing up to relieve us. I rub at my arms where the burn was at its worse and freeze from the realization of what alarmed me about the fire before.

I grab at Beckett's arm and point to the heavy smoke swirling in one place, too close to the open flames. He grabs for his radio while I try to defuse the dangerous situation. "Incident Command. Call for an immediate evacuation. C-side is in danger of experiencing a major backdraft." If the smoke and fire accumulate and consumes the available air, then oxygen could be re-introduced, and it will cause a rapid combustion in the heart of the building.

We can hear the evacuation being called as soon as everyone completes their secondary searches for survivors, knowing that we'll be the last two to leave the building. Using the water to try and keep the unburned fuel particles away from the flame was the only thing that we could do before we leave and let the building burn itself out.

With his oxygen now on 20%, Beckett taps me on the shoulder indicating that we got the all-clear to leave. We push the nozzle of the hose into a makeshift stand to keep the water cascading into the flames. I reprimand myself for how close I came to taking my own life again with Beckett standing only a few feet away.

The worst is though, that I don't regret my actions. Being caught in the act didn't stop the negative feelings and thoughts from reminding me of how much better off the world would be without Maya Bishop. It was idiotic to go that dark with him so close. Why couldn't I succeed in anything!?

I grind to a halt when we turn into another corridor as soon as I hear a whimper. The furious firefighter walking in front of me gets even more irritated and starts pulling me away when I hear it again. It's faint, but I'm positive that there was someone trapped close to us.

I pull my arm out of his grip and run back to where I first heard the sound. "Seattle Fire Department. Call out!" Beckett gives me a concerned look, like he has concluded that I've completely lost my mind. I start running up and down the hallway calling out, desperate to hear the cry again so I could locate the person in distress.