The Bravest

V

"I'm going to warn you, this might hurt for a second. I need to lift you up, alright? My friend Mike here is gonna help me get you down, cool?"

She nodded, seemed scared, but there was no time for feelings, Michael getting down on one side, Gomez on the other, Michael sliding his arms behind her back, a supporting hand under her arm.

"On three," Gomez muttered through gritted teeth. "One, two, three!"

Michael gritted his teeth also, pushed himself up, a quick grunt from Michael, Kelsey coming up between them, another yelp. Michael felt himself apologizing quickly, no response from Kelsey, the woman tucking her head into her chest, a few more quiet groans.

Wrapping one of her arms over his shoulder, Gomez getting the other arm, Michael moved quickly to try and get out of the kitchen, back into the debris-littered office area. A few of the firefighters were milling about, looking at different papers, one at the wall, peering through a shattered window. "Jesus," he said, taking a step back. "We're high."

Michael saw Doughtman now, the captain stepping quickly over to them. Doughtman took a quick look at her leg, looked up at Michael.

"No chance at her walking on her own back down?"

Michael shook his head. "No. Someone needs to take her down. Probably two people."

It was Doughtman's turn to shake his head. "Dammit. We need every man we can get. Alright, let me see..."

He looked around quickly. "Marello, how old's your son?"

Marello was leaning over someone's desk, looking at photographs pinned to the wall, looked up now, his chest automatically swelling up slightly, pride. "Two months, sir. He's gonna be a fine young man."

Doughtman nodded. "I bet so, Marello. Alright, you and Lieutenant Mike are gonna escort this lady down, understand?"

Michael took a step forward, his mouth opening automatically. "Sir, I want to stay here-"

Doughtman held up a hand. "No. I need someone to relay a message to the battalion chief and it will be much easier getting to the chief with lieutenant written on your helmet. I need you to tell him we're continuing our climb. Communication is too spotty now. Nothing's getting through. Tell him there's nine of us up here. We're going to keep going till we hit the impact zone, try and clear a path for those trapped above."

Michael wanted to talk back, say no, but he had too
much respect for the captain he'd served with for over ten years. When Michael had lost his home after a troubled time, it had been Doughtman, a lieutenant then, who had opened his door welcomely and let Michael stay for a few days until he could get back on his feet. Michael would never forget that, had a devotion to the man now that went beyond words.

He finally stepped back, nodded. "Alright, sir. I'll escort this lady down and relay your message. But I'm coming back up afterwards."

Doughtman nodded, raised his arms. "Hell, you know where to find us. Only one way we'll be going. Up."

Michael nodded, Marello slipping in between them, relieving Gomez. Gomez looked towards Doughtman, said, "Sir, if you don't mind, I think I should go down with Marello and the lieutenant. I might have to fix some bandages or the splint and... well, the wounds we're gonna see up there are going to be bad. Real bad. I'm gonna need a lot better supplies to treat them than what I've got here."

Doughtman paused for a moment, nodded finally. "Alright. You can go with them. Same with Mike though. We need you up here quick as possible."

Gomez nodded, fell in step with Michael, Marello, and the woman, Kelsey. They aimed for the door, and Michael suddenly noticed that everything had begun looking grayer, a thin haze, the smoke settling throughout the building, trapped and pushed down the stairwells, filtering out into the wider office spaces. Michael coughed now, a drag of the smoke, and he turned quickly, looked back at the group remaining behind. Bright light filtered in through the broken windows, silhouetting the men, faces down, hidden behind helmets, bulky tanks strapped on backs, their fire jackets loose at the bottom, waving in the breeze that sifted through the exposed holes in the glass. Michael saw Clay now, his best friend bending over a desk, holding something, a photo, Michael realized, and Michael was struck by a sudden pang in his gut, a choking feeling that rose up in his chest and welled in his throat. He turned away to avoid choking up. Damn it. Stay safe, all of you.