“Oh god, oh god,” Mickey’s mum gasped on the phone. “I’m coming right now. I’ll be there-”
“Ms White, is there someone who can drive you? You shouldn’t drive right now, not with everything going on.”
“No, I- I can’t wait, I need to be there.”
I grimaced, thinking that I should’ve predicted this, but I absolutely couldn’t have her getting into a car accident because she was too worried for her son to focus on driving.
“Please listen to me. Right now, it’s rush hour, and it’ll take you ages to get over here, okay? Just wait for a police car to come and get you, and you’ll be here much faster. Can you do that?”
“How long will it be?”
“Not long, ten minutes at most. Please, you’ve got to be safe, for Mickey’s sake.”
“Okay, okay,” she relented.
Stephen had heard what I was saying and snagged the arm of the junior police officer who’d come over to us earlier. He sent her to go and fetch Donna White, and I nodded my thanks as I continued to talk to her, trying to reassure her and also simply keep her on the phone. I was worried that if I hung up, she wouldn’t wait for the police car to arrive and would drive over herself.
Whilst I talked to her, I stared forwards at the school, watching the flames climb higher. The firefighters were doing their damnedest, but they barely contained it, not subduing it. I saw firefighters moving forwards in teams or pairs, preparing to enter the building by a side door and sent a silent prayer up into the smoky sky that they would be safe.
My gut was churning with doubt and fear, no matter how outwardly together I was trying to appear. I was scared for Mickey and concerned for the firefighters, but I was also overwhelmingly aware that if either of them ended up hurt or worse, it would be on my head. I’d been the one to ask Mickey to relay information back to us in return for leniency, and I’d been the one to tell the firefighters that there might be a child inside.
My head started spiralling, thinking of the firefighter’s families and wondering whether I was totally wrong and Mickey was somewhere completely different, safe and well. I’d come to my conclusions through evidence, it was true, but there was a hefty dose of gut feeling in the mix too, and what if I was wrong? Talking to Mickey’s mum and hearing the fear in her voice made all the doubts well up at once, twice as vicious as before.
Finally, Donna told me that the police car had arrived, and she hung up as she was driven over. The firefighters had yet to emerge from the burning school, but the firemen working on the outside with the hoses did seem to make some small progress in beating the fire back on the right side.
“Mitchell?” Stephen said, getting my attention.
“Aye?”
“Even if you’re wrong, mate, you were working off the facts. You’re worried about a child’s safety. No one could fault you for that.”
I gave a tight, humourless laugh. “If a member of the fire service team ends up dead, I’m sure someone will fault me for it.”
“Hey.” He grasped my shoulder in his big hand and made me turn to look at him. “You can’t think like that. This is their job, and they’re highly trained. You’ve done your best, Darren, and I trust you.”
“Sometimes I make the wrong calls, though,” I said. The smoke was getting in my eyes and making them sting. “I put myself in danger. What if I’m doing that now to someone else?”
Stephen frowned at me, hesitating for a long moment as he clearly tried to find something to say. I was about to reassure him when there was a loud shout, loud enough to be heard even over the fire, and I looked up sharply.
The firefighters had emerged from the school, and I broke forwards into a run before I could think about it. I had to dodge between the gathered people and push past the firefighter who tried to stop me, but then I was free to sprint forwards towards the staggering firefighters and the flames.
Two of them had come out of the door, and between them, they were carrying something or someone. Someone small, their legs dangling limp, and who seemed painfully fragile in the bulky arms of the suited-up firefighters. My stomach in my throat, I skidded to a stop in front of them and reached out to take the child since the two firefighters were clearly overheated and exhausted.
They passed him over, and I took his weight, ignoring the stab of pain in my ribs. I took in the teenager’s grey skin, limply open mouth and closed eyes even as I was hurrying him away from the heat, which was hot enough to singe my hair. The two firefighters followed after me, lumbering in their big suits. Behind me, I heard one of them say something, though what it was, I couldn’t tell. I twisted around to look at them, and the woman took off her helmet now that we were a safe distance from the school.
“He’s alive,” she told me urgently. “Get him to an ambulance!”
I responded to her order even before I’d processed her words. The teenager in my arms was still breathing, and he needed help. I broke into a run, gritting my teeth against the jarring pain of my still-healing ribs, and hurried towards the ambulance I could see over the heads of the people gathered, watching.
“Move!” I yelled as I approached them.
They parted in front of me, and I hurried through, almost colliding
