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Chapter 1
Training day.
Nestled in the middle of one-hundred-twenty acres of private farm land, backed up by three-hundred acres of plush forest, stood an empty farm house that had been scheduled for fire training. Five units were on site, including Mike’s—Station Eight. His team stood ready for backup while Station Seven and Station Nine trained new recruits.
At a glance, the set up appeared as if all precautions were in order and the men in position ready to begin. Having two extra teams standing around might seem like a waste of time and manpower, but every drill offered a learning contingency. Even if they did nothing but watch, their time would not be futile.
Being thirty miles from town, the secluded property presented the perfect setting for an exercise without interruption. No bystanders, no chance of anyone just happening by. Those in attendance stood waiting for instruction.
Mike popped the kinks out of his neck, then hoisted an air tank onto his back.
“They’re getting antsy,” one of the instructors said, stepping up beside him.
“Better get started then.” Mike glanced about the structure, assessing the placement of each team. Some to participate, others to watch. Even though he wasn’t in charge, he checked to see that each man was where he belonged and equipped with proper gear. Trucks and crews formed a somewhat perimeter around the old wooden structure. Including one team appointed to prevent any stray sparks from igniting outside the designated area.
The old house might be scheduled for a training exercise, but Mike took every precaution as though this was any emergency call coming through dispatch. Every fire needed precise attention to detail—a controlled burn was no different.
Two men in full gear stood off to the left, holding axes. Behind them, three more had attached hoses to the ends of trucks, preparing to open nozzles. Two ladderbacks were situated at opposite ends, ready if needed. Out of habit, Mike took notice of the wind direction, logging it in the back of his mind in case he needed the data later. He glanced to the right, finding a row of men lined up, raring to go. With many entry-level firefighters on hand, the men had been divided into teams—one experienced and one new recruit. Everyone was in position.
The instructor issued the signal to begin. A firefighter, equipped with full gear, stepped forward and tossed a flame into a first-floor open window. A ball of fire surged like a thundercloud just before the house exploded. Smoke roared and bits of flaming wood sailed through the air with massive force.
What the fuck!
Mike secured his face mask and ran into the dark cloud, shouts and screams surrounding him. He headed for the firefighter who’d tossed the torch. Mike hadn’t seen if the man had been knocked back or where he’d landed, but being that close to the house, the guy had to be seriously injured, if not dead. He didn’t have time to speculate.
This should not have happened. He, and he was sure every man there, had expected a gradual flare. Then flames should have licked the structure. Not an explosion from hell.
Mike sucked oxygen as his steps led him forward, his instincts kicking in. His heart pounded with every breath as he searched, unbelieving of what he’d seen. Two shapes emerged in front of him. He watched as they grabbed an unconscious body and hauled a man clear of the burning structure. Mike heaved a short sigh of relief.
Black smoke bellowed in a whirling arc with ten-foot flames towering above the house. Bits of the roof had shot straight up like missiles and pieces were now hanging in the trees. In every direction, burning boards and shattered walls cluttered the ground. Firefighters scurried about the debris littering earth, some battling flames while others crouched low, dragging wounded men to safety.
Christ. They’d been too close. Fiery heat and chaos surrounded him, still he managed to examine his surroundings. Two teams rushed forward with hoses leveled at the burning building, or what was left of it. A firestorm raged like hell’s furnace.
Wilson, the chief of Station Nine, shouted orders and every man scampered, doing his job. Mike stood rooted to the ground, assessing the commotion. Everything that could be done was being done. The explosion had come as a surprise, but each man had responded with proficiency. Even the emergency response medics had jumped into action.
“Mike.” He turned to find Laredo at his side. “What the fuck happened?”
“Hell, if I know. But you can bet your sweet ass I’m going to find out.”
“Never seen anything like that. Is there a gas line around here?”
“Cap would have checked that out before he cleared this place for training. Nothing should have been inside to cause the house to blow up.”
“We were lucky.” Laredo’s heavy breathing punctuated each word. “Only a few men were close enough to feel the blast.”
Thank God for that. But still, one man had been in the heart of the surge. Mike hoped the flame-retardant suit had done what it was supposed to.
“Wasn’t Ryan the one who tossed the flame?”
“Yeah,” Laredo answered. “He’s with Station Nine. Tough break.”
“Is he still breathing?”
“Was when the squad rolled out.”
“I better call Cap.” Mike adjusted his face mask as he pulled out his cell. The air heavy with smoke, he coughed, his fingers clumsily hitting the numbers on the screen. Only one ring echoed before the Captain answered. “Cap. Mike here. We’ve got a situation. The farmhouse blew up.”
“What do you mean blew up?” Shep’s harsh voice came back at him.
