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Her response was a mere whisper, the sound barely audible amidst the madness. “I can't... I can't breathe...”
“I know, I know,” Jackson replied softly, his heart aching for her suffering. “Just focus on my voice. Take shallow breaths. You're doing great.”
As he cradled her fragile form in his arms, Jackson sought to distract her from the agony tearing through her body. The woman was in her mid-fifties, with hazel eyes framed by tousled chestnut hair streaked with strands of gray. She was covered in agonizing blisters from second-degree burns, in addition to blackened third-degree burns.
“What's your name?” he asked gently, even as he struggled for his own breath.
“Rachel... It's Rachel,” she managed to gasp, her voice strained with pain. Her blouse, once crisp and white, was now stained with soot and smudged with ash, the delicate fabric torn in places by the heat of the flames. The tailored slacks she wore were singed at the hems.
“Nice to meet you, Rachel. I'm Jackson.” His words were infused with a warmth born of determination. “Do you have any hobbies, something you love doing?”
Through the haze of pain, Rachel struggled to respond, “I paint... landscapes.”
“That's amazing.” Jackson’s chest tightened with each labored breath. His ribs, broken from the falling metal scaffolding, and his shoulder screamed with pain. The air was short of oxygen. “What's your favorite place to paint?”
“The mountains... they're so peaceful,” Rachel whispered.
“They sound beautiful.” Jackson’s thoughts drifted to a place far from the burning bedlam surrounding them. “Tell me more about them. Imagine you're there, painting them.”
In the fire and smoke, Jackson guided Rachel's thoughts to a place of serenity and beauty, weaving a tapestry of words to ease her suffering. With each passing moment, he prayed for strength—strength to carry them both to safety, strength to return to the woman he loved.
As he pressed forward, the weight of Rachel's body grew heavy in his arms. Jackson drew upon every reserve within him. Tears mingled with the sweat on his brow.
“Dad,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath against the roar of the flames. “I need your strength now. I have to make it back to her.”
Jackson pressed on, his steps fueled by love and desperation, his only thought the woman he held in his arms and the woman he hoped was waiting for him. His own horizon was Olivia’s smile.
* * *
Olivia's heart pounded against her ribs as she absorbed the turmoil unfolding before her. The warehouse inferno raged on, a monstrous entity fueled by its own contents, casting an ominous glow against the night sky. She navigated through the maze of emergency vehicles and personnel.
With her police radio crackling with urgent voices, Olivia's focus homed in on one name: Michael. She needed to locate him. As she pulled up beside his designated spot, her mind raced with questions, but Michael's protective demeanor halted her inquiries for Jackson’s last location before they could take shape.
The sight of the triage area struck Olivia like a physical blow, each row of body bags a silent testament to the unforgiving brutality of the fire. The weight of despair threatened to crush her as she grappled with the possibility of losing Jackson, a thought too unbearable to fully confront. With shaking hands and a racing heart, she fought to suppress the rising panic threatening to engulf her. The mere idea of his absence clawed at her insides, igniting a primal instinct.
Summoning every ounce of strength she possessed, Olivia forced herself to maintain composure, donning her turnout gear with practiced efficiency. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal of her camera, a tangible reminder of her role in this unfolding tragedy. As she prepared to embark on her investigative duties, her mind remained singularly focused on one objective: finding Jackson, no matter the cost.
Olivia's gaze homed in on the familiar figures of Station 3: Ashlyn and Parker, their weary forms huddled together in the rehab area. The exhaustion etched in their features, obscured by layers of soot and sweat, spoke volumes of the harrowing ordeal they had endured. Oxygen masks muffled their voices as they recounted the grim details of Jackson's predicament, each word driving a knife deeper into Olivia's heart.
The confrontation between Luke and the captain of Engine 1 behind her served as a stark reminder of the perilous reality of the situation. The captain's impassioned plea for Luke's safety reverberated. “I can’t risk you to save him. He might already be lost.”
Luke's defiant stance was fueled by grief and determination as he tossed his helmet into the dirt. Then he approached her, his eyes heavy with sorrow. “Olivia, I’m sorry. We had to leave him.”
He thrust the tomato can into her hands. “Jackson found this inside. He thinks this may have been part of the fire. If he hadn’t tried to protect us, he’d be here.” Guilt tainted his words.
The tomato can served as a reminder of Jackson's bravery, his selflessness in the face of danger. The audacity of his actions, the sheer recklessness tempered by unwavering resolve, ignited a fire within Olivia's gut.
When she finally noticed Michael had joined them, he was wearing a frown. “Give it to me. I’ll lock it down before the explosive inside kills someone.” He exhaled heavily. “Damn it, Liv. Please knock some sense into your head. Think about your family. Can your mother bear to lose you to a fire?” His words, meant to provoke her to be careful, instead angered her.
“Don’t you think I’m aware of the costs? How dare you throw my past at me. I won’t choose between members of my family!” she screamed. “Yes, damn it, I consider Jackson my family.”
Turk arrived in the rehab area supported by two other firefighters, his anguish mirroring her own. Olivia found herself thrust into the role of rescuer.
“He was last between the A and C walls.” Turk's choked words, a desperate plea for guidance, spurred her into action.
“I think he’d head toward the refrigerators. They back onto the loading dock,” Luke coughed. “It would give him some protection.
With determination etched into every line of her face, Olivia seized the opportunity to lead the charge, her resolve unyielding. Grabbing an air bottle and motioning for Luke and Turk to follow, she embarked on her mission with a single-minded focus. Exhausted but undeterred, she pushed forward, her unwavering fortitude cutting through the haze of uncertainty.
