“Get me masks and fire gear,” Webb snapped, energizing. He waved over the nearest Patrol officers. “I need some volunteers. We’ve got men in there who need help.”
There was the briefest hesitation. Then a young officer whose nametag read RUIZ stepped forward. “I’ll go, sir.”
“I’m in,” Vic growled. Two more shots came from the building. Everyone but Vic flinched.
“Let’s do it,” Erin said. Turning to the captain, she quickly asked, “Is it safe for my K-9?”
“Can he do SAR?” the captain replied.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Then we need him. Let’s move!”
The police grabbed firefighter overcoats and oxygen tanks on their way. Erin was trying not to worry about Rolf. He was absolutely willing to go in, and being low to the ground, he wouldn’t have as much to fear from smoke inhalation as the rest of them, but he wouldn’t be able to stay inside long. “Komm,” she ordered, giving the command in his native German. He trotted beside her, alert and attentive.
“You better stay outside, sir,” Erin told Webb. He tended to get short of breath at the best of times.
“You giving me orders, O’Reilly?” he retorted. “I’ve been sucking smoke since I was sixteen. I’m used to it.”
Ruiz looked very young, and very scared, but he buckled on his gear with steady hands. The four officers formed up outside. Even through the protective gear, Erin could feel the heat of the fire, like an open oven door.
“Let’s go,” Webb ordered.
“NYPD!” Erin shouted as they plunged in. “Sound off, guys! Where are you?”
The fire made a strange, hollow roaring sound. Everything was smoke, heat, and flickering flame. Erin heard the rasp of her own breathing in the oxygen mask. The smoke was disorienting. Even though they were barely inside, she had trouble remembering the way out. Strange shapes of tables and chairs appeared and disappeared through the smoke. If anyone answered her call, she didn’t hear them.
“Rolf!” she ordered. “Such!”
Hearing his “search” command, the K-9 moved forward, sliding with his belly close to the floor. How he could smell anything but smoke was a mystery, but he was clearly on the scent of someone. Erin held his leash in one hand, her Glock nine-millimeter in the other. She was in the lead, the other officers keeping close so as not to lose contact.
Rolf suddenly stopped and scratched the floor. Erin saw a body at her feet. She knelt and saw it was a man, dressed in street clothes, face down. Blood was pooled around him. He didn’t seem to be breathing, but it was hard to tell.
“Got a casualty!” she shouted. Even as she said it, a sustained burst of gunfire came from very close at hand.
“Christ!” Vic said. He snapped off two shots in return.
“Don’t fire blind!” Webb barked. “You out there! This is the NYPD! Put down the weapon and give up! You’re going to die in here! We’re here to help you, idiot!”
“Fire Department!” someone shouted to Erin’s left. “We got a man down!”
“Rolf!” Erin repeated. “Such!” She nudged him in the direction of the voice.
Rolf was off again, sneezing and snorting. Erin went with him, keeping as low as she could. Another gunshot sounded, followed by two more from Vic.
“God damn it, Neshenko!” Webb shouted.
Erin found an overturned table, a looming shape in the smoke. Behind it, three firefighters were huddled with a fourth one at their feet. The wounded man was writhing in pain.
“We’ll cover you!” Erin shouted.
Ruiz was behind her. He tapped her shoulder to let her know he was there. He rested the barrel of his pistol on the edge of the upturned table. “Go!” he said.
Erin and Rolf moved back the way they’d come. The firefighters followed, carrying their downed buddy. No more shots were fired. Erin dared to hope Vic might’ve gotten lucky. Or maybe the shooter had gone down from smoke inhalation, or suffered an outbreak of common sense and just stopped shooting.
The police and firefighters tumbled out of the building onto the sidewalk, into blessed fresh air and sunlight. It was a cold early-March day that Erin thought had never felt so good. They pulled off their masks and sucked in the air. Rolf, at her side, gave a wheezing cough and sank to the pavement.
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About the Author
Steven Henry learned how to read almost before he learned how to walk. Ever since he began reading stories, he wanted to put his own on the page. He lives a very quiet and ordinary life in Minnesota with his wife and dog.
You can follow Steven's work by joining his list at tinyurl.com/StevenHenryEmail.
Also by Steven Henry
Ember of Dreams
The Clarion Chronicles, Book One
When magic awakens a long-forgotten folk, a noble lady, a young apprentice, and a solitary blacksmith band together to prevent war and seek understanding between humans and elves.
Lady Kristyn Tremayne – An otherwise unremarkable young lady’s open heart and inquisitive mind reveal a hidden world of magic.
Robert Blackford – A humble harp maker’s apprentice dreams of being a hero.
Master Gabriel Zane – A master blacksmith’s pursuit of perfection leads him to craft an enchanted sword, drawing him out of his isolation and far from his cozy home.
Lord Luthor Carnarvon – A lonely nobleman with a
