“Amen,” said Logan. “I said a few words for you too, Woodman.”
“Thanks for that,” he said, though he felt deeply the words were in vain. Without her, he’d be entering a dark valley without hope, without meaning, without a future. He’d be poor ole Woodman, whose cousin took up with his ex-fiancée. He’d be pitied, when for the better part of three years he’d fought for respect and equality, pushing away pity with all his might.
Logan interrupted his thoughts. “Fred’s got me settin’ up an unmanned monitor in sector Charlie. Most of the flames is in sector Alpha, I guess. How ’bout you?”
“I’m s’posed to help you,” said Woodman, cupping his hands over his mouth so that Logan could hear him.
Logan’s face, which had looked a hair shy of frightened, relaxed a little, and he grinned at Woodman. “Oh yeah? Hey, that’s a relief. Thought I’d have to go in alone.”
“No, sir,” said Woodman, looking ahead, where fifty-foot flames licked the clouds and a mass of brownish-gray smoke, acrid and heavy, made the sky dark as eternal night. “Everyone goes home.”
Chapter 21
Cain
Twenty minutes into the blaze, the water in Engine One was gone, and Cain was holding a foam pipe that was running low too. A tanker from Lexington was about to be pulled into their space to take over.
Cain had seen electrical fires, aircraft engine fires, and even a couple of mess fires during his time in the Navy, but he’d never seen anything that felt as huge and as bad as this. So far eight departments had shown up with their engines and tankers, trying to bring enough water to quell the flames, with little luck. The horses had been removed from the inferno, thank God, but the wind had just changed, and the flames were licking through the center of the barn now.
Scott Hayes hit him on the shoulder. “Done here. Let’s move her out.”
The hose was wound, the truck was moved back, and a moment later the Lexington truck had taken its place, her men willing and ready to jump into the fray.
Cain headed back to Scott. “You seen my cousin?”
Scott shook his head. “Put him on Engine Two, which was headed for the back of the barn. Heard it was quieter there.”
“You sure?”
Scott nodded, looking up at the flames that still jumped and spat. “How long till you think this roof—” Just as Scott said the words, Cain watched as the structure appeared to cave in, the front half of the roof collapsing into the middle of the burning structure as flames started eating their way quickly to the back.
“Fuck,” said Cain as he watched it fall.
A loud scream crackled over Scott’s radio. “Fuuuuuuck!”
Scott ripped the radio from his shoulder. “Uh, Fred? What’s happenin’ back there?”
“Fuckin’ roof just caved! 10-88, Code 1! Must have traveled from the second floor. We need trucks back here! Now!”
Cain’s eyes widened. “You said it was quieter back there!”
“Thought it was!” yelled Scott. “10-75 on sector Charlie. I need water on sector Charlie!”
Scott hurried off to coordinate trucks to the backside of the building as the hairs on the back of Cain’s neck stood up on high alert.
I liked puttin’ out fires. I liked feelin’ like a . . . a danged superhero. I would’ve done it forever. Woodman’s words from three years ago came screeching back into Cain’s head, and suddenly Cain knew where his apprehension was coming from: there’s no way that Woodman would stand down. No way.
With his heart in his throat, he raced around the barn in the growing darkness, jumping over apparatus and forcefully pushing other firefighters out of his way until he’d rounded the massive structure to find the back of the barn was in just as bad shape as the front. What he hadn’t been able to see from his vantage point at the front was that the barn peaked in the middle. The middle of the roof hadn’t quite fallen in yet, but both lower sides, in sectors Alpha and Charlie, had.
“Where’s Woodman?” he asked a probie he recognized from Apple Valley who stared up at the blaze with his mouth open.
“I don’t—”
The probie’s buddy stood beside him, and Cain grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to focus. “Where’s Woodman? Where the fuck is Woodman?”
“He was, uh, he was with Logan McKinney.”
“Then where the fuck is Logan McKinney?” he demanded, yelling over the licking flames and sounds of structural collapse inside the barn.
“I don’t know,” said the kid, shrugging helplessly.
Cain pushed him out of his way and continued through the crowd of firefighters until he finally found Fred Atkins. “Where’s Woodman?”
“Woodman? He’s ’round somewheres. Scott and I both told him to stand down.”
“Where’s Logan McKinney?”
“Logan? I sent Logan in fifteen minutes ago to set a monitor. He’s ’round here . . . ” Fred looked around, his brow creasing as he counted his men and didn’t see Logan among them. He nudged the guy next to him. “John, you seen Logan?”
“Logan? Nah.”
Fred pulled his radio into his hand. “I got a 10-66 on Logan McKinney.”