“How far away is this accident?” she asked, her voice strangely husky with adrenaline.
“Five miles.”
“Any idea of how bad a wreck it is?”
“No. Dispatch said it was called in by the state police.”
She nodded, automatically going over the various types of equipment that might be utilized in this kind of situation.
“When we get to the scene I want you to stand by here at the squad. I hope like hell it’s a simple extrication, but you never know. Apache and Duke will pull off the inch and a half and approach the car first. If there’s fire they’ll knock it down, then be ready to cover us during the extrication. We don’t want any sparks to start a fire and blow us all away.”
Leah felt her heart pumping strongly and she pulled her heavy fire-retardant gloves on a little tighter. Like the rest of her gear, they didn’t fit and she shook her head. All she needed was a pair of bumbling hands while she was trying to work at top speed.
As they drew up on a lonely farm road, Leah spotted the white state trooper car, its light flashing forlornly in the night. Gil took the mike off the hook and ordered the engine to halt before it got to the wreck. He glanced at Leah.
“Stay here,” he ordered, then climbed out and trotted up to the scene of the accident to assess the situation.
Tightening her helmet strap against her chin until it was snug, she realized with a sinking sensation that it was a bad wreck. The entire front end of a red Buick had been smashed as it hit a utility pole. The car had come to rest in a wide, deep ditch and now looked like a folded accordion. She saw Gil raise the portable radio to his mouth and almost immediately was aware of Apache and Duke trotting forward with a charged inch and a half line. That meant fire and perhaps a gasoline spill. Her heartbeat increased. It meant twice the danger. Once positioned, Apache opened the nozzle, sending a semi-fog stream beneath the rear of the auto.
Gil returned at a steady trot and slid back into the squad. Leah glanced tensely over at him.
“What have we got?” She surprised herself. She had used the word we. Wasn’t that what fire fighting was all about…teamwork? If he noticed her use of the word, he said nothing.
“Got a drunken teenager with his legs pinned beneath the steering wheel. He’s unconscious,” he muttered tightly. He threw the squad into gear and moved just close enough to string the compressor lines to the smoldering wreck. The truck was kept at a safe distance in case the car exploded. It was senseless to wreck expensive equipment.
Leah got out, shading her eyes as the pumper’s quartz lights flashed on. The chatter of the portable generator in the side compartment of the engine added to the cacophony of sounds. A glare of surrealistic light enveloped the accident scene. The other two fire fighters were hosing down the rear of the mangled car, forcing the leaking gasoline away from the area and diluting it with the water. Gil handed her the chisel and a pry bar.
“That door is jammed. We’ve got to get it open. I’ll bring the come-a-long and the other gear.”
The trooper at the scene helped them, and within moments they were set up. Her heart rate was high, her knees shaky with adrenaline. The sharp odor of gas stung her nostrils. Gil came up.
“Cut through the door handle,” he ordered. She was glad her visor was down as Apache and Saxon approached, spraying a fine mist of water over her. The droplets blanketed her head and shoulders as she got ready to cut. The water would reduce the chance of a stray spark starting a fire. Placing the power chisel against the metal, she started it and a reverberating sound rent the air. Leah leaned her weight into the chisel, cutting through the thinner metal of the door around the handle. She prayed that it would be possible to manipulate the inner door mechanism so that they wouldn’t have to literally tear the door off its hinges.
“Leah?” Gil called.
She finished the job and quickly set aside the chisel. After kneeling down and peeling back the metal, she took a flashlight from her pocket and studied the mechanism. She was vaguely aware of Gil leaning over. Shakily she reached into the door, jerking at one of the long bars. They both heard a distinct click and Gil straightened up, ordering her to stand back. He gave the door one good yank and it fell open.
“Good work,” he praised. “Make a hole in the front windshield so we can get the come-along around the steering wheel.”
She struggled with her ill-fitting boots as she moved gawkily around in the darkness to the other side of the car.
“His pulse is weak,” the trooper shouted, leaning in through the passenger window to help cover the driver with a wool blanket.
Leah staggered into the ditch, pitching forward, one boot having slipped halfway off her foot.
“Come on, Stevenson!” Saxon yelled, making an angry gesture with his free arm. “Hurry it up!”
Leah pushed back her helmet, which had tipped forward, and struggled to her feet, embarrassment flooding her. As she reached the other side she took the pointed end of the pry bar and made an oblong hole along the passenger side of the windshield. That done, Gil passed another wool blanket through his side of the glass to her. Leah grabbed it, getting ready to jerk it outward and away from the inert driver.
“Keep him covered,” Gil told the trooper. The trooper nodded and pulled the protective blanket over the boy’s head.
“Go ahead,” the officer yelled, and turned his head away to protect himself from flying glass.
Gil glanced up. “Count of three, Leah.”
The windshield came out cleanly with one good jerk. The glass popped outward, dancing across the hood and splintering on the ground. As swiftly as she could, Leah came around to the driver’s side and helped station the come-a-long across the mangled hood of the car. The trooper stood clear while she wrapped the heavy chain around the steering column three times and rehooked it outside the windshield. She could hear the wail of an ambulance approaching as she leaned into the driver’s side of the car, focusing her flashlight on the teenager. Leah heard him groan and put her gloved hand on his shoulder to steady him.
“Go ahead,” she called to Gil, “start tightening it. I’ll let you know when his legs are free.” The boy moaned once again and Leah divided her attention between him and the steering column. The chains grew taut, creaking and straining, and the steering column slowly yielded to the five thousand pounds of pressure being applied by the come-a-long. She automatically shielded the boy with her body, wanting to protect him in case the chain or any part of the equipment snapped and flew loose. A broken chain could be deadly and she didn’t want the driver injured any more than he was already.
“It’s moving,” she reported. “Another two inches and we’ll have it.”
The trooper had moved back to the passenger side, and now he crawled in carefully through the open window. “Here, I got the short backboard and a neck collar from your driver,” he offered.
Sweat ran down into her eyes and she blinked them, trying to get rid of the smarting sensation. “Thanks. You just steady the kid when the rest of that pressure comes off his thighs,” she directed.
“Say…you aren’t—”
Leah grinned, her face glistening with perspiration. “Yeah, I’m a woman.” She applied the surgical collar to keep the boy’s neck stabilized in case he had sustained a spinal injury.
The trooper said nothing, expertly sliding the backboard between the driver and the seat after she had fastened the collar. Leah could feel the trickle of sweat running down her rib cage and had a wild desire to scratch it. She lowered her head, watching Gil as he bore down with all his weight against the handle of the come-a-long. In one part of her mind she thanked God he was turning out to be as good a fire officer as she had thought he would be.
Just as the last of the mangled steering column came off the boy’s thighs, Leah sat up, facing the semiconscious driver. She pushed up the protective plastic visor of her helmet. The smell of gasoline and alcohol filled her senses.
The trooper flashed his
light down on the boy’s legs. “He’s coming around,” was all he said.
Leah was in the process of getting out of her kneeling position when the boy screamed, flailing his arms wildly. His hand caught her solidly in the nose and she was slammed backward, tumbling out of the car head first. Leah scrambled blindly to her knees and reached out to grab the boy’s arms. Adrenaline surged through her and she shouted at the trooper to grab his right arm while she tackled the left.
“It’s okay, okay,” she breathed heavily against the boy’s ear. With her left hand, she placed her glove against his shoulder. “You’re safe, safe…you hear me…everything’s going to be all right,” she crooned. She had seen many teenagers who mixed alcohol with drugs. They would often become wild and hysterical upon regaining consciousness. This kid was no exception.
Leah gritted her teeth, using the leverage of her body to control his wild movements. “Lieutenant—” she yelled, seeing that the trooper had no room to maneuver properly to keep the kid down. She didn’t want to hurt the boy, but at the same time, she knew he could do further damage to himself if she let him flail wildly around in the car. Gil appeared from the right, his face tense and grim.
“Okay,” he ordered huskily, “we’ll both hold him until the ambulance people can get up here. They’re bringing the stretcher now. Apache, I smell more gas. Get back there and hose the area down again.”
She was sobbing for breath as she struggled with the boy. “You’re going to be fine,” she said softly. “Just fine. In a few minutes we’ll have you on your way to the hospital….”
Her voice finally began to have a soothing effect. He suddenly stopped wrestling and leaned back, his eyes wide and dilated. Gil sucked in a deep breath of air.
“You’re okay, son. Can you hear me?”
“Ahhh, man, let me outa here! I don’t need no hospital. I’m okay.”
Leah tightened her grip on the boy’s shoulder and looked sharply at Gil, who was inches away. He met her glance and gave her a momentary nod. So much was conveyed in that one look, it was as though for a moment they had read each other’s minds. In another two minutes the boy had fainted and the paramedics were on hand to take command of the situation. Gil slid his hand beneath her arm and helped her stand.
Her knees were surprisingly shaky and she leaned against his strong body. Faintness swept over her and she called his name, her voice sounding very far away. She was aware of his arm sliding around her body. Her head lolled back against his shoulder and she closed her eyes, surrendering to the pain shooting up toward her brow.
“Leah!” he whispered, lowering her gently to the pavement. Gil anxiously searched her drawn features in the glaring light provided by the pumper. She was semi-conscious, trying to raise her hand toward her face. “No,” he ordered softly, gripping her hand. Cradling her against his body, he removed the helmet from her head. His heart beat heavily in his chest as he realized how much pain she was experiencing. In that moment Gil was aware of another feeling. He admired her courage. Even now she wouldn’t whimper or moan aloud. He yanked off his glove and cupped her chin, which was beginning to swell. He twisted to the left and yelled for Apache.
Apache trotted over. “What happened?” he asked, kneeling down beside Leah.
“That damn kid hit her in the face when he became conscious. You take her helmet, Apache. I’ll carry her over to the cab of the pumper. Have Sam get the first-aid kit out.” Worriedly he looked her over. “We may have to get her to the hospital if her nose is broken.”
Apache grimaced as he quickly rose to his feet. “This is the thanks we get for saving that kid’s life. Great. Just great.”
Leah drew in a ragged breath as pain jabbed her temple. She was aware of Gil’s body pressed against her, aware of the drumlike beat of his heart against her ear as he rested her head on his broad chest. She tried desperately to fight off the faintness, but the pain made it difficult. Gil gathered her into his arms, lifting her upward. “I wanted to hold you, but this is a hell of a way to get the chance to do it,” he murmured, humor tinging his husky voice.
She had never felt so safe as in Gil’s strong arms. She rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her toward the pumper. The voices of the other fire fighters drifted in and out. Eventually, Leah became aware that she was in the warmth of the cab. Gil kept one arm around her shoulders so she wouldn’t fall sideways or forward, possibly injuring herself further. His breath was warm and moist against her face as he leaned over, cleaning her lips and jaw.
Leah sat perfectly still, amazed at how gentle he could be with those large, well-shaped hands. Her hair, once knotted securely, had unraveled, the dark tresses spilling across her shoulders.
“Take it easy, babe,” Gil soothed, carefully blotting away the blood. “Here,” he instructed as he placed a cloth in her right hand, “hold this against your nose. I’m going to do a little pressing on the bridge to see if you’ve broken it.” He leaned closer, his eyes dark and shadowed as he surveyed her. “You know something,” he went on as if conversationally discussing the weather, “you’re good-looking even in turn-out gear.” He grinned, carefully examining the bridge of her nose. “Hurt?”
“No,” she mumbled. The bleeding was finally beginning to lessen. Her heart pulsed strongly each time he grazed her skin. She opened her eyes, looking up into his concerned, handsome features. There was an incredible gentleness about him as he worked. It served to relax her. Her mind was still foggy and she struggled to remember the conversation he had had with her out on the road. Had he really said he wanted to hold her? Leah chided herself for the feeling of excitement that swept through her. She couldn’t afford to get involved with anyone at the fire department. And especially not the man who was caring for her at this moment. Leah yearned to rest her head against his shoulder, close her eyes, and feel safe, but that was impossible.
Gil was satisfied. “Doesn’t look broken,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
Leah wanted to say: I feel safe in your arms. Instead, she rolled her head to the left, meeting his intense gaze. “Fine. Really, I can make it now.”
A partial smile pulled at his well-shaped mouth. His blue eyes took on a bemused gleam. “Hey,” he chided softly, “I’m your friend, remember? I’m not out to prove you can’t make it as a fire fighter. Now, let’s try this one more time. How are you feeling?”
Leah was grateful that the cab was semidark or he would have seen her blushing. “I’ve got a horrible headache and my jaw feels swollen.”
His grin broadened and he gave her a gentle embrace. “That’s more like it. Feel like walking back to the squad with me?”
Leah’s heart soared with unexplained happiness. She gave a hesitant nod. Holding the sterile gauze against her nose, Gil helped her out of the cab. The other three fire fighters gathered around, concern written on their sweaty faces. One part of her wanted to be independent of Gil. Were they thinking she was weak? She couldn’t bear the thought and tried to walk under her own power. Gil placed a protective arm around her waist, forcing her to lean against him.
“You okay, Leah?” Apache asked, the first to come up.
“Yeah,” she answered, “just a bad nosebleed.”
The Italian fireman reached out, giving her a careful pat on her shoulder. “I was watching you during the extrication. You did a hell of a good job. If that kid had punched me in the running lights, I’d have hit him back. You did good under the circumstances.”
Leah managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Apache. It means a lot to me.”
“How are you holding up?” Gil asked, leaning down to inspect her face as they walked down the highway toward the squad.
“All I want to do now is get back and take a hot shower.”
Gil slowed his stride to match her own. “You’re going to need a steak, too. Your left eye is swollen. It ought to be black by tomorrow morning.”
Leah groaned. “Just what I need.”
He opened the door for her and then slid
into the driver’s seat. “When the local reporter comes down tomorrow morning to check on our runs, he’ll see you and think we beat you up.”
The ambulance had already left with the injured driver and a wrecker had arrived and was pulling the remains of the car out of the ditch.
Leah hesitantly returned his smile and shut the door. She cradled her helmet in her hands, allowing her head to rest against the rear of the cab.
Gil snapped off the beacon lights. He loosened his helmet and handed it to her. She took it without another word, staring down at the yellow color. Lieutenants always wore yellow turn-out gear and helmets; assistant chiefs wore red and the chief wore white. Gil put the truck in gear and started back toward town. Suddenly he smiled, his even white teeth stark against the sweat and grime on his face. “Just sit back and relax now. I’ll take good care of you.”
“You really don’t have to make such a fuss over me,” she protested.
“Lady, you’re worth making a fuss over, believe me.”
The words pleased her and Leah did as she was ordered. Watching Gil through half-closed eyes, she found it hard not to stare at him. Normally, men did not arouse her curiosity or, indeed, any sort of emotional reaction. Jack had seen to that, she thought bitterly. She took in Gil’s clean profile, marveling at the strength stamped in his features. Yet he had shown her he was capable of gentleness, too. Every time she remembered his touch, her body automatically responded. It puzzled her. She barely knew the man.
Gil broke the pleasant silence after a few minutes. He turned to glance at her in the darkness. “Hell of a note,” he said wryly. “On your first run you get hit.” He smiled. “Figure it out—we save a kid’s life and you get punched.”
A grin edged her lips; a feeling of pride swelled in her breast. “It was worth every bit of pain and embarrassment,” she assured him. “A life was saved and that’s all that matters to me.”
He reached out, hesitantly touching her hair, running his fingers down the silken tresses. “Your life matters too, you know.” His eyes became cobalt colored as he said, “Next time, Leah, don’t put yourself in such a vulnerable position when you know the driver is either on drugs or alcohol. He might have hit you in the eye and blinded you.” He shook his head, a mournful note in his voice. “God, you have beautiful eyes. I’d hate to see anything happen to them.” He rested his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You just be more careful” was all he said.
Too Near the Fire Page 3
