“Station Nine staged the drill,” Mike shouted over the noise. “Procedures were by the book. Everything looked good. As soon as Ryan threw the torch, the damn house exploded. As if a gas line was open.”
“That’s not possible,” Shep shouted back. “No gas. No electricity. It’s a deserted house. Already cleared. Hell, even the water lines were turned off.”
“Yeah,” Mike said, glancing at the burning structure. “Too bad about that. We could use some extra water right now.”
“What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know. I can only tell you what I saw. The flame hadn’t even cleared the window when a ball of fire ignited.” Mike recalled the scene in his mind, rewinding it in slow motion. He’d never seen anything like it. And he hoped to never see it again. A training maneuver gone bad. Real bad.
“Anyone hurt?”
“Ryan must have been knocked back thirty feet. It took a while to find him. The medics put him on oxygen and rolled him out. A few others got hit with the blast.”
“Find out everything and report back to me. You get it on film?”
Mike glanced about and found a photographer bracing a camera on his shoulder. Every training session was recorded. The films were used as the second part of training maneuvers, so firefighters could see how things were done and discuss scenarios. At least the guy had enough sense to stay out of the way. Maybe there would be something on film that could help explain what the hell happened.
“Yes sir,” Mike said. “It had to be gas. I don’t know what else could have made this place go up like the fourth of July.”
“Station Nine is in charge. Wilson doesn’t need me in his way. But I can help by getting a fire investigator on this one. Let him know.”
A large van with the letters SAPD pulled up alongside one of the fire trucks. Mike swallowed a lump of dread as he recognized the bomb unit.
“Bomb crew just rolled on site.”
“They’ll search for explosives,” Shep’s voice rumbled through the phone. “Make sure the fire is out, clear everyone and wait for the results. As soon as you have something, get your ass back here.”
“Right.”
Mike watched the pandemonium before him that could have quickly turned into a disaster. The whole point of the exercise was to teach men how to fight fires. A system of techniques was to be followed in an orderly process, but the explosion had ambushed them. All levels of firefighters were expected to deal with the unforeseen, in both crisis and routine circumstances—by the look of things, the new recruits had dived right in along with the old dogs.
At least no one had stood around with their dick in their hands.
***
“This was a great idea,” Cassie said as she shoved a chip into her mouth. After a long week of enthusiastic eight-year-olds in a classroom, she was ready for an evening of spicy sauce and beer. Her friend, Tammy, preferred a margarita, but tequila had a habit of knocking Cassie on her butt.
“Taco sauce and cheese dip is always a good idea,” Tammy agreed. “I fed the boys hotdogs before I took them to the Scout Hut.”
“Hot dogs?”
“Yep. Their favorite.”
Hot dogs just didn’t compare to Mexican food. El Puerto’s was one of Cassie’s favorite spots. At least once a week, the two of them would have dinner at the cozy restaurant.
She was ready to let her hair down, kick off her shoes and wiggle her cramped toes. She’d love to wear tennis shoes to school, but being a teacher, she felt the need to give some care to her appearance. Most days she wore a comfortable dress. Sandals might work in the summer, but tennis shoes were definitely not part of business casual attire.
While Tammy talked about her two boys, a red image appeared in Cassie’s peripheral vision. She glanced out the restaurant window and zeroed in on a Staunton fire truck. Right in front of the building. When another one appeared behind the first, Tammy’s voice faded away.
A silent alarm went off in Cassie’s brain—the same way it did every time she heard a siren or saw any emergency vehicle roaring down the road. Ever since that night, when she’d awoken in her cousin’s house to a room filled with smoke. The night she’d felt her way down the hall in a panic because she couldn’t see and she’d needed to find her cousin’s son, who thankfully had already made it outside. She’d stumbled to the door and a pair of arms had grabbed her and carried her into the fresh night air. When she’d finally calmed, the shock of flames climbing from the windows and above the roof had paralyzed her and brought reality crashing down. She could have burned to death.
Her chest squeezed just as it had that night two years ago. Would the time come when she could breathe normally and not cringe when she heard a siren?
She thought she heard a voice penetrate the fog she’d drifted into.
“Cassie! Are you all right?”
She blinked. Her pulse raced, her throat felt dry and she immediately realized she needed to calm down. Her gaze returned to the sun gleaming off the shiny vehicle. The truck was not racing, nor did she hear a siren. She willed the tension from her muscles, chastising herself.