“Get out of here!” yelled Scott.
Cain turned toward the entrance and directed Scott where to step as he made his way out. Until finally, finally, gravel crunched beneath his feet, and he knew they’d made it to safety.
Scott pulled Woodman over to a grassy patch to the left of the burning barn and laid him gently on the ground. Cain unbuttoned and unzipped his jacket, shrugged off his O2 tank, and balled up his coat as best he could to squeeze it under Woodman’s head. His cousin’s face was covered in soot and ash, there was a bad burn over his left eye, and his left glove was charred to a crisp. His oxygen mask was askew, and Cain knelt down beside his cousin to straighten it.
“We made it,” he told Woodman, coughing up black mucus and spitting it onto the grass.
He felt Scott’s hand on his shoulder. “I’ll get an ambulance.”
He vaguely heard Scott’s voice on his radio behind him saying, “10-45. 10-45, Code two. I need a fuckin’ ambulance. Now. Back of the fuckin’ barn. Sector Charlie. Now.”
“Cain . . . ,” Woodman rasped, his green eyes wide and wild. They weren’t focused on anything or anyone, just searching and blinking. And then Cain realized: Woodman had been blinded by the smoke and heat. He couldn’t see.
“I’m . . . oh Jesus . . . I’m here, Josiah.” He reached for his right hand and pulled off his cousin’s glove so he could hold his hand.
“Cain . . . listen . . . ” His voice was so soft, Cain could barely hear him, so he shifted his position on the grass, dropping Woodman’s hand and gently lifting his cousin’s head from the bunker coat onto his lap. Woodman had lost his helmet at some point, and as Cain looked down more closely, he realized that Woodman’s mask was partially melted onto the left side of his face.
Cain gasped at the terrible sight of melted skin, fear rolling inside him, gathering, growing stronger and bigger with every passing moment. “St-stop talkin’, okay? I . . . I need you to save your strength. They’re gonna bring you some oxygen. Scott’s got the ambulance comin’ and—”
“She loves . . . you,” Woodman said softly, his green eyes searching desperately for Cain’s blue.
She. Ginger. Because in Josiah’s entire life, there had only ever been one she.
Cain’s eyes burned with tears as he tenderly stroked Josiah’s hair off the right side of his face. “No. No, she don’t. She loves you. Stop talkin’ crazy. Just hold on. They’re gonna . . . you’re gonna be just . . .”
A paramedic slid to the ground beside them and opened his field kit. He tried to put a new mask on Woodman, but Woodman groaned, “No,” and tilted his head away.
“Josiah,” sobbed Cain. “Please.” Then, “Where’s the fuckin’ ambulance at?”
The paramedic pressed his stethoscope to Woodman’s neck. He winced at whatever he heard there and slowly pulled the instrument from his ears.
“Cain . . . be . . . good . . . t’her.”
Cain caressed the skin by the burned part of Woodman’s face tenderly, but his cousin didn’t even flinch. There was no physical reaction. No pain.
“Care . . . for her.” His lungs were barely moving up and down now, and every word sounded thinner. “Love . . . her.” His voice was thready and weak, each breath wheezing and ragged. “Promise.”
Tears ran down Cain’s face in streams as the wail of an ambulance got closer. The paramedic was on one knee beside Cain, motionless, and when Cain looked up at him, the other man blinked back tears before mouthing, “I’m sorry.”
“Aw, fuck.” Cain sobbed softly, using the back of his hand to wipe his tears away.
“I don’t need to promise,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to Woodman’s forehead, his tears plopping onto his cousin’s face. He knew Woodman couldn’t see them, didn’t feel them. “You . . . you’re gonna be fine, Woodman.”
Woodman’s green eyes searched the darkness for a face he couldn’t see. A strangled sound crawled up from his throat, and black soot mixed with blood streamed out of the corner of his mouth.
“Pl-l-lease,” he murmured through the wetness.
“No!” Cain cried, clutching his cousin closer, leaning down to press his forehead to Woodman’s and willing every ounce of strength in his body into his cousin’s. Stay with me. Stay with me. Oh God, stay with me. “No! I ain’t promisin’ nothin’! Don’t you fuckin’ leave me, Josiah! You’re goin’ home to Ginger. You’re gonna be—”
“P-promise,” said Woodman, his voice less than a whisper, his lungs failing as his deep green eyes swam with tears.
“Yes!” he wailed, pressing his cheek to Woodman’s, their tears mixing where their skin touched. “I fuckin’ promise! Josiah, I promise.” He sobbed, clenching his eyes shut, his voice breaking. “I promise.”