One Last Time

8

Bobby

Bobby closed his eyes. He felt too comfortable surrounded by the mountains. Whenever relaxation kicked in, he would check his phone to see Ravi's updates on the firehouse. His wife laughed loudly on the mountaintop with Hen. The two were inseparable sometimes.

Chimney and Eddie were already zipping down the mountain. Buck was taking a hesitant approach, a strange juxtaposition from him driving a firetruck. He noticed Maddie looking pale.

"You feeling okay?" Bobby asked her.

Maddie glanced up, lost in thought. "I'm fine, Bobby." She answered sweetly. Doubtful, he gave a quick nod in her direction. He began skiing off into the painting of the mountain.

He noticed thick, grey, clouds rolling in. They'd been out for hours, drenched with sweat yet the thrill provided them with the energy to continue. Bobby never wanted to leave the mountain, but the wind began to blow harshly. The snow sprayed on his face and he shielded his eyes.

He'd lost sight of the rest of the crew. Yet, according to their rule, they should all gather at the bottom of the mountain. The wind was picking up vigorously, taking the snow and ice along with it. Bobby's body began feeling cold. His eyelashes were coated with ice and his cheeks burned with a stinging chill.  

He looked around for anyone else. Everyone seemed to have left. The mountains were like rocks being swallowed by the tide. The wind roared monstrously, knocking Bobby off his two feet.

"Augh," he moaned, attempting to stand up while snow piled on top of him.

"Help!" A faint noise called. "Help!"

Bobby's instincts took over and he began tearing his way through the thick whiteness surrounding him.

It's just like smoke. You're a firefighter, you can do this.

"HELP!" the voice screeched louder. Bobby sensed the voice was coming from below him. He crab-walked downwards while snow pellets attacked him. It was in his eyes and biting his neck. "Please help!" the voice called.

"Call out to me!" Bobby hollered. "Where are you?"

"Over here!" Panic was rising in the tone.

Bobby could barely see the silhouette of a young man, sprawled out in the snow. His skis were gone and only one lone ski pole remained, sticking out of the ground. "I'm right here!" he called to Bobby.

Bobby knelt next to the teenage boy. The boy's face was frosted over and his lips were turning blue. "The-the wind-d. It c-came out of nowhere," the boy quivered.

"I know," Bobby agreed, helping the boy sit up straight. "I'm Bobby Nash, fire captain. And sir, we have to warm you up quickly before you get hypothermic."

The boy nodded, "I think my ankle is twisted. My skis are gone anyway." Bobby examined his ankle, carefully unbuckling the top of his boot. He stared into the boy's frozen eyes.

"A bit worse than twisted. You can't walk on that." Bobby took off his toque and placed it on the boy's head. He didn't want to tell the boy he was minutes away from losing an ear. "What's your name son?"

"Noah," he cackled in pain. "Mr Nash, we need to get out of here."

"I know Noah, I'm going to have to carry you down," Bobby instructed. "Hang on tight and keep your head down." Bobby heaved the boy onto his back, as Noah wrapped his arms around Bobby's neck. They began to slide on Bobby's skis, fighting against the wind.

They reached the bottom with ice crawling up their skin. A man was standing at the bottom hollering into a megaphone, but Bobby couldn't hear a single word. He set Noah down and quickly unlocked his skis from his boots. He scooped the boy back up and rushed towards the ski lodge where everyone was gathering inside.

The warm air stung worse than a bee. It was a relief, yet a mushy breath of soggy clothes and stinky feet, as they entered the lodge.

"Hey! I need a medic!" Bobby hollered over millions of voices. The entrance of the ski lodge was packed, bodies against bodies. Noah wailed in pain.

A skinny man appeared in front of them, with a quick, "This way," and they were off. A small triage was set up near the luggage spaces. Bobby set Noah down on a spread-out blanket. A woman with medical wear and a first aid kit approached them.

"He's got a broken ankle, frostbite for sure on his ears and check for hypothermia," Bobby demanded quickly.

The woman looked up briefly, "Got it."

Bobby backed away before Noah could thank him. He heard Noah's deep and frail voice in the background. "My- my buddies, they're still out there."

Bobby glanced around the room, watching the frozen bodies slowly come to life. He pressed his hands against the oak doors of the front entrance.

One last time.

He ran outside into the bitter cold.