Fireproof (7 page)

Caleb could see that Eric wasn't sure whether to laugh out loud or hide behind the truck. It took some getting used to these guys, but it was all in fun, and he had a feeling the rookie would fit in soon enough.

“Eric, you still got a dull spot on that driver's door,” Caleb said.

“Yes, sir.”

Caleb left the dance scene and headed into his office, where the lights were down low and a screen saver of his dream boat bobbed on virtual waves. What he wouldn't give to be out on the Gulf right now, away from the drudgery of the station and the embarrassment of a marriage that was going up in smoke.

BETHANY MEASURED THE distance to the railroad tracks ahead and figured she would make it before Ross and Kyle caught up in their low speedster. She'd got the jump on them, and anyway she was a girl. They'd back off after giving her a scare. She was sure of it.

She was wrong.

“Bethany, slow down,” Kelsey begged from the passenger seat.

The road was narrowing to one lane in each direction, and Ross seemed intent on overtaking the girls before they reached the crossing. He showed no signs of backing down. The nose of his car pulled even with the Kia.

Bethany set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. A split-second glance showed the boys laughing, whooping, and having a good time. They were used to this sort of game, to the stare-down, the whole macho deal.

Who did they think they were? She'd show them.

She crushed the pedal to the floor.

“Bethany!”

The train tracks were rushing at them, silver and shiny, growing larger, larger. The car would sail over the embankment, probably get some air, and come down hard. What if they slid into the tree on the other side? What if—?

With Kelsey's scream in her ears, Bethany Dawson panicked.

And slammed on her brakes.

The sudden deceleration pulled the wheel in her hands, causing the driver's side front panel to veer into Ross's sports car. There was a crunch of metal, followed by an angry yell that turned into screams—from the boys, from Kelsey buckled in beside her, and from the grinding of the vehicles.

Then, overcorrecting, she spun her car the other way, and the world went haywire in a flash . . .

Tires squealing; brakes and rubber lacing the air with burnt odors; the entire steering column coming at her, pinning both legs as the Kia pinballed off the cross-arm warning pole; air bags deploying; then, finally, in slow motion, sliding sideways up the pavement and slamming down into the groove between the tracks.

CALEB'S CELL PHONE rang. Caller ID told him it was his father. “Hey, Dad.”

“Son, you busy?”

“No, not really.”

“I heard your message. What's going on?”

“Well.” Caleb kept his voice even. “I think Catherine and I are done.”

“Oh, I doubt that. Everyone goes through rough times.”

“No, it's . . . it's over. She said she wants out.”

“Well, we've all felt that way before, son. She's a good woman and she's worked hard to get where she is in her career. Giving up just doesn't seem like her style.”

“She's probably right, though,”Caleb said.“It's just not working.”

“Listen, why don't I come down so I can talk things over with you.”

“Uh . . .” Caleb knew his parents had gone through a recent spiritual revival of sorts, and he had a sudden vision of his father pushing religion on him. All that God-talk was fine for them, but it wasn't really Caleb's thing. Nevertheless, he caught himself saying, “Sure, you can come over. I'll be home.”

“Okay. Well then, I'll—”

The fire alarm sounded throughout the station, setting bells ringing.

“Dad, I gotta go.”

Caleb stood and snapped his cell phone closed. The clock was ticking in his head now, counting each second the crew took to get moving through those bay doors. Every moment mattered.

Overhead, the female dispatcher's call came through the fire-house speakers: “Public Safety to Engine One, Battalion One. Respond to the intersection of Roosevelt and Kelley. Ten-fifty-I Rescue. Time out, 12:21.”

Car accidents were often the worst.

Caleb rocketed from his office into the bay, dreading what he and his crew might find. He saw Simmons coming toward him as Terrell slid down the fire pole.“Hey, this one's close by. Lieutenant, you and Terrell get the other truck and go with us.”

“Ten-four,” Simmons said.

Already standing in their boots,Wayne and Eric were suiting up, pulling heavy fire-retardant gear over their station uniforms. Caleb yanked suspenders onto his shoulders, gearing up in stride as he'd learned to do over the years. He climbed aboard the engine, with Wayne in position as driver and Eric in the cab's backseat pulling on his scuffed yellow helmet.

“Okay,” Caleb said. “Let's roll.”

The driver gave the affirmative and flicked overhead switches, kicking in the lights and sirens. He blasted the deep horn as he pulled onto North Jackson Street, with the aerial following close behind. They threaded tree-lined avenues on their way through town. The emerging sun was pleasant and cheery, giving no indication of the life-threatening scenario they might soon encounter.

Caleb spoke into the radio.“Engine One is en route to Roosevelt and Kelley, Ten-fifty rescue.”

Dispatcher: “Ten-four, Engine One.”

Terrell's voice: “Aerial One is responding with Engine One.”

“Lieutenant,” Caleb radioed to Simmons, “you and Terrell have the Hurst tools ready if we need them.” He then turned to Eric behind him. “You stay with me when we pull up.”

Eric, his forehead already pricked with sweat, gripped the handhold by his door. “Yes, sir.”

The engine turned, running parallel to the train tracks now. Trees and houses were set back from the area, but the scene was rapidly becoming congested with well-meaning citizens.

“We've already got a crowd,”Wayne said.

Caleb craned his neck for a view of the accident. “Can you see it?”

“We've got one car on the tracks.”

“You're kiddin' me.”

Rarely serious off duty,Wayne was all business while on a call. “No, it doesn't look good, sir.” He blew the horn to clear people out of the way.

Caleb got on the radio again. “Engine One is Ten-twenty-three. We are Roosevelt Command. We have a two-vehicle accident with possible entrapment. One of the vehicles is on the train tracks. Please notify the train dispatcher to stop all trains in progress.”

“Ten-four, Command. Be advised that EMS is en route.”

Eric was squirming in the back.

“Rookie,” Caleb ordered, “you come with me.”

“Let's go, guys,”Wayne said.

Caleb hopped down, moving past horrified pedestrians with cell phones glued to their ears. The other truck halted. Caleb pointed out the maroon vehicle in the ditch where a pair of passengers sat motionless. “Terrell, you two go check out that car and let me know what you got. Wayne, pull me an inch-and-three-quarter line from the truck.”

“Got it, sir.”

Caleb and the rookie hurried past glittering glass and strewn car parts, toward the silver Kia, where a group had gathered in hopes of being of some help. Steam was escaping from beneath the sedan's hood. The roof was caved in and the front windshield obliterated—clear evidence of a rollover. The vehicle was smashed beyond repair, its rear passenger-side wheel twisted at an odd angle where the axle or U-joints had given way.

“Eric, you check out the passenger.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right,” Caleb addressed the crowd for their own safety. “I want you all to stay clear of the tracks and the vehicle.” Only with a firm voice would he be able to establish control and restore some calm to all concerned. He knelt beside the driver's door. “Ma'am, I'm Captain Holt of the Albany Fire Department. We're here to help you.”

“Help me, please,” the girl said in a thin voice. “I can't get out.”

“What's your name?”

“Bethany. Please, help—”

“Bethany, I'm gonna do everything I can to get you outta there. Okay?”

She nodded.

Caleb saw that Eric was attending to the unconscious female passenger, checking vital signs, assessing the damage. The rookie was doing good.

Back to the trapped driver.

“Please,” Bethany whimpered.

Caleb couldn't help but notice she was a teenager. Just a kid. Her forehead was furrowed, left nostril dripping blood, chest heaving. He had to keep cool or risk spreading panic and fear, thus hindering his own decision-making.

“Can you tell me where you're hurting, ma'am?”

“My legs are hurting. Please help me.”

“All right,” he said. “We're gonna help you.”

Bethany's eyes were pleading, pleading. They seemed to say:
I'm dying and you're the one person who can save me.
Except, he couldn't always do that. He had lost a few over the years, and he'd gone to bed more than a few times with that very look burned into his nightmares.

“I . . . I can't . . . move my legs,” she told him. “I'm stuck.”

“I'm here to help, you understand? We'll get you outta here.”

Caleb leaned in through the window and pushed aside the spent air bag to study the situation. What he saw stole his breath away.

CHAPTER 10

B
ethany was losing blood quickly, her left leg nearly severed by jagged metal that had rammed through the car's firewall. From her pinned position, she was unable to see her predicament, and Capt. Caleb Holt knew it was best to keep her attention diverted. He didn't need her going into shock.

“Okay,” he said. “Where else are you hurting?”

“My neck is hurting. Please.” She was sobbing. “Please help me.”

“Listen, we're gonna get you out of here. You're gonna be just fine, all right? Just hang on.”

“Please don't leave me, please don't leave. Don't let me
die
.”

Caleb met her eyes, knowing those very pupils might stare holes through his soul for years to come. He couldn't let that stop him, though. She needed his strength. He reached a hand toward her and gave an assuring nod. “I promise you I am not going to leave you. Bethany, you're gonna be all right.”

Eric spoke from across the crumpled roof, reporting the passenger's situation. “Captain, she's alive but not responding.”

“Get the spreaders.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Eric turned to fetch the necessary tools, Simmons and Terrell hurried up the rail embankment.

“Captain.” Simmons tossed a thumb back over his shoulder toward the boys in the sports car. “Those two are gonna be okay. They've got minor injuries.”

“All right, we've gotta cut these girls out. Terrell, help Eric with the Hurst equipment. Lieutenant, I need you to check for gas leaks.”

“Yes, sir.” Simmons pulled off his helmet and crouched down beside the mangled chassis.

Close by, a few men were watching the events and murmuring among themselves. Farther back, a police vehicle had pulled up to start crowd control.

Caleb returned his attention to the trapped girl, who was shaking now, becoming more desperate with each breath. Glass fragments glittered like a busted necklace around her throat. He set a hand on her arm.“Bethany, we've got an ambulance coming. I'm gonna stay right here with you.”

A gasp. “Okay.”

“In a moment, you're gonna hear a loud noise. That just means we're getting you out faster.”

She was still with him. “Okay.”

“You're gonna be all right.”

A train whistle sounded in the distance. Caleb turned toward it and stood to full height, eyes widening as they followed the glistening rails around the bend. The train was not yet in sight, but the rumble of its weight could be felt through the very earth beneath him.

“Captain?” Simmons rose to his feet. “Did I just hear a train?”

Caleb grabbed his radio and barked into the transmitter. “Dispatcher, this is Roosevelt Command. We have a car on the train tracks. Notify the train dispatcher to stop all trains in progress!”

“Roosevelt Command. Be advised, we are currently unable to make contact with the train dispatcher. We will continue trying.”

Caleb's face contorted in frustration and sudden determination.

“There's a train coming,” an onlooker called out.

Others were realizing the predicament now. “Hey! A train's coming. A train's coming!”

Terrell and Eric approached with the Hurst tool. A hydraulic implement created for tearing into metal and peeling it apart, it was a powerful item, though not particularly fast.

“No, no,
no
.We don't have time! C'mon,” Caleb said, gesturing at his crew. “We're gonna have to push it out of the way.”

Bethany was crying harder now, terrified by the train's approach and the panic rippling through the crowd.

“C'mon!” Caleb yelled again. “Let's
go
, let's
go
!”

No time left for being calm, for bedside manners or pep talks.

The ticking clock in his head had wound down to the final minute, and this, in his experience, was when things slowed to a crawl—the mind's mechanism for dealing with an emergency in a rational and efficient manner.

Caleb leaned in and tried to get the Kia in neutral so that they could push it unhindered. He noticed, from the corner of his eye, a person pointing at something along the vehicle's rear end.

The twisted rear tire. Was it caught on the tracks?

The train whistle blew again.

“C'mon,” Caleb urged.

Simmons repositioned his helmet and jumped to the back, Eric hooked his hands beneath the front wheel well, and they started pushing in the same direction. Terrell grabbed hold of the passenger-side door. Caleb again wrestled with the gearshift, finding staunch resistance. As the firefighters pushed, they realized there was indeed something causing the car to hang up on the trestles.