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Chase shakes his head. “It’s gonna be ugly.”
“They said multiple casualties already,” our Lieutenant, Perez, chimes in. “Last body count was up to ten. They are expecting more.”
“What kind of warehouse is it?” I ask Perez.
“An online superstore,” he says. “About as big as a professional football stadium, by the looks of it. They literally sell everything.”
“That kind of place has to have over a thousand employees on-site,” Wyatt replies. “How many made it out that we know of?”
“They’re still counting. Dispatch said 800 were accounted for so far,” Perez replies.
As soon as we arrive at the scene, my brothers and I finally understand the whole picture—it’s a grim one. The warehouse complex is almost completely engulfed in flames, except for the west wing. That side seems to have retained most of its structural integrity, and that’s where two units are focusing their hoses, trying to keep the flames from spreading.
Chief Holt joins the other chiefs on site, getting an update on their progress before coming over to pass along instructions. I see people being carried or dragged out of the west side of the building. On the other side, firefighters are working hard to isolate and limit the damage of the growing flames.
“Our biggest concern is the surrounding neighborhoods,” Holt says, worriedly looking around. Half-a-block south is home to a slew of apartment buildings, most of them erected at the same time as the warehouse. “One strong gust of wind is enough for it to spread beyond our control,” the Chief adds. “I need you, Eric, to work with your brothers on recovering more employees through the west access points, so 67 can refocus their efforts on containing the south side of the complex. We’ve got fire stations 40 and 38 sending their units, as well. They’re five minutes out.”
“Got it, Chief, we’re on it,” I say.
“Milton, Keynes, and Fogarty will help out with triage,” he says. “We’ve got more ambulances coming in, and Dallas Memorial is sending an emergency response team to assist our paramedics.”
“Alright, we’ve got this,” I shout, beckoning my brothers to join me. “Grab the gear!”
We take what we can carry, but it’ll be our axes and crowbars that will do most of the work. In this kind of structure fire, it’s common for people to get stuck under fallen debris. All we can do is get them out with as little physical damage as possible and get them to the paramedics, so they can focus on stabilizing them before transferring them to the hospital.
The entire block echoes with wailing sirens and the constant thundering and crackling of this gargantuan fire. Black smoke rises, swallowing the sun as we make our way across the yard. There are hundreds of people here—most of them scared out of their minds—our firefighter brothers and sisters working hard to get them all to safety as far away from the building as possible.
As we enter the building, I remind myself that this is why my brothers and I chose this line of work. It’s not just for the thrill or the heroism. This is the closest we’ll ever get to war-like fighting again. We are hooked on this kind of stuff. It’s our drug of choice. Fighting, however we can, so that others might live tomorrow.
“Holy shit!” I hear Wyatt say through the radio system.
The view before us is infinitely worse than what we saw from the outside. The entire warehouse is engulfed in flames—giant orange tongues of death licking at everything within their reach. I see the fear embedded on my fellow firefighter’s faces through layers of sweat, soot, and pure dread. It makes my chest tighten yet at the same time gives me a new resolve. We need to help these folks get to safety.
Because of the thickening smoke, it’s hard for the survivors to see where they’re going. The daylight from outside is barely visible from their angle.
“Here!” I shout at a group of three workers stumbling down a set of metal stairs. “Keep going straight! Straight!”
I catch a glimpse of rushed nods as they run past, crying and panting, coughing and struggling to stay upright for a few more seconds. The fire roars on, while beads of sweat constantly trickle down my forehead. My spine tingles with adrenaline as we continue through the warehouse.
“It’s going to get completely out of control soon unless they are able to contain it from the south side!” Chase shouts as he ushers a few more people toward the exit.
“Stay calm and keep moving!” Wyatt shouts to the employees shuffling toward the doors. “Keep going!” He looks at me, and I can see the worry in his eyes through the protective gear covering his face. “It’s gonna turn into a stampede, Eric!”
“Hurry!” a woman comes screaming from the south-eastern corridor. “There are a few people trapped back there! They need help!”
“Where?” I ask, my instincts instantly activated.
“Storage room four, down by the wall, there!” she points me in the right direction.
“Okay, you keep moving! Follow my colleagues and their hand signals!” I reply. “How many more are inside, do you know?”
She gives me a heartbreaking look. “I don’t know how many are still alive.”
“Ok, we’ll get them. Just keep moving,” I say.
She doesn’t wait around to be told again. The haunted look in her eyes tells me everything I need to know. The death toll will border on catastrophic, no matter how quickly we put this fire out.
“Wyatt! Chase! I’m headed down to storage four!” I call out through the comms system.
