It Happened One Night (10 page)

Sam and Charlie had been part of the evac-crew and were nearly blind from heat and exhaustion. Sam had stripped off bunker gear, and was bent nearly double, holding on to his knees to keep from falling while Charlie downed a bottle of Gatorade. The wind was strong, giving power to flames already out of control, but as it blew, it also caught spray from nearby hoses, sending a welcoming drift of mist onto their overheated bodies.

Sam straightened with a groan and took the bottle of Gatorade someone handed him. It was his second, but the much-needed electrolytes in the drink were replenishing fluids and minerals he badly needed. As he turned  around,  two  more  units  from  nearby  station
houses  were  arriving. He  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief, knowing they could use all the help they could get.

Suddenly, a woman pushed her way past the roped-off area and began running toward the firemen, screaming as she ran.

“My son! My son! I can't find my son.”

Sam's heart stopped. A trapped victim was one of a fireman's worst fears. Their captain caught her before she had gone too far, and as Sam watched, saw her gesturing wildly toward the engulfed building, then saw her fall to her knees, screaming as she went.

Tossing aside his drink, he retrieved his bunker gear and headed for their captain. Charlie was right behind him.

“Sir?”

Captain Reed turned, his expression grim.

“She says her son was in the bathroom when they began evacuating the store. She says that when she tried to go after him, they wouldn't let her go, but assured her that store personnel were checking all the offices and bathrooms and that she could find him outside.”

“But she didn't find him, did she, sir?”

Reed glanced down at the prostrate woman and then back up at Sam.

“No.”

“How old is he?”

“Twelve.”

A muscle jerked in Sam's jaw as he gazed back toward the burning building.

“Where are the bathrooms located?” Sam asked.

Captain Reed shook his head. “Oh, no, you don't. The front of the building is already engulfed.”

“Yeah, but maybe we can get in from the back,” Charlie said. “I was there only a couple of minutes ago. There's a lot of smoke, but I didn't see any flames.”

The mother heard what they were saying and clutched at Sam's pant legs in deep despair.

“Please! Please let them try. He's my only child.”

“Captain?”

Captain Reed hesitated briefly, then yelled for the manager of the store who'd been standing nearby. When he heard his name being called, he came running.

“Where are the bathrooms located?” Reed asked.

The manager looked panicked. “In the back of the store. Why?”

“We think we've got someone trapped.”

“Oh, I don't think so. My assistant manager checked. He assured me that all the rooms were empty.”

“Where is he?” Reed asked.

The manager turned, quickly surveying the area, then shouted. A short, stocky man of about forty came running.

“Henry, did you check all of the offices and bathrooms before you left?”

Sam could tell by the look in the man's eyes that he had not.

“I tried,” Henry said. “But the smoke was so thick I—”

“Dear Lord,” the manager muttered, then gave Captain Reed a horrified look. “I didn't know! I swear I didn't know!”

“Ma'am, what's your son's name?” Sam asked.

“Johnny. His name is Johnny.”

Sam looked at Charlie and then grabbed the manager by the arm.

“Come with us,” he said. “Show us the back door closest to the bathrooms and give us a layout of what's inside as we go in.”

The man hurried to keep up with Sam and Charlie, shouting as they ran.

“Two in! Two out!” Captain Reed shouted, and two firemen quickly moved with them, dragging hose lines as they went. Within seconds they were at the back of the building and hooking up to another hydrant while Sam and Charlie put their bunker gear back on. Sam checked his SCBA, making sure that the Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus had the full thirty minutes of compressed air, then settled the visored-helmet on his head.

“Take these,” Captain Reed said, handing Sam and
Charlie two-way radios. “I want to know what's happening at every turn.”

Sam nodded and thrust the radio in one of his voluminous pockets. He knew where he had to go to reach the bathrooms. If God was with him, and if the boy was still inside—

Then he stopped. He wouldn't let himself think past those two ifs. He couldn't think of Harley, or let himself panic at the thought of never seeing her again. All his focus was on the direction he had to go and the boy who might still be inside.

“Ready!” he shouted, and then he and Charlie raced toward the back door as a spray of water began raining down upon their heads.

As they opened the back door, billowing clouds of black smoke emerged from the opening along with flesh-searing heat. Sam paused inside and looked back for Charlie. He was right beside him, as were the two firemen outside the door with the hoses. The two out would follow with the water for as long as the hand lines would reach. After that, Sam and Charlie were on their own.

Ignoring everything but the task at hand, Sam said a quick prayer and felt for the wall.

R
elying on what the manager had told him and the constant spray of water at their backs, Sam put his hand flat against the wall. Using it as a boundary, he began a mental countdown of the distance they needed to go.

Charlie tapped him on the shoulder to let him know he was there beside him. At that point, Sam keyed the hand radio.

“We're in,” he said.

Reed's voice bounced back, giving Sam and Charlie the illusion that they were not alone.

“Good, but don't take any chances. You don't have any time to waste. Do one thorough sweep of what's not burning and get the hell out.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam said, then he and Charlie dropped to their knees and began crawling through the smoke with the imprint of the layout stuck fast in their minds. Two firefighters just inside the doorway continued to man the hand lines, keeping water on Sam and Charlie's backs.

According to the manager, the first two doors they would pass were offices. They would be locked. Then there would be a space set back from the straight line of the wall where the box crusher sat. The opening was ten feet in length and about twenty feet deep. They had to bypass that to reach the next section of wall and the first thing they would come to would be the store's walk-in freezer. Next door on the right would be the men's bathroom. If the boy was where his mother said he would be, he'd be in there, or at the least, close by.

Sam crawled with his flashlight in one hand while keeping the other one on the wall as a guide. Water from the hoses aimed at their backs kept raining down around them, but the effort did little to dilute the smoke. At any moment, Sam knew the whole back of the building could erupt just as the front had already done, and when it did, their chances of getting out safely lessened drastically. Charlie was still with him, holding on to Sam, while following along behind.

Again, Sam shouted out the boy's name, and again his words were muffled by the mask of his SCBA as well as the roar of the fire. He didn't hold out hope
of being heard. A few seconds later, he felt a doorknob against the wall and tried to turn it. It didn't give.

The first locked office.

This was good. It meant they were on the  right track. He paused momentarily, tapping Charlie on the shoulder and pointing to the door so that Charlie also understood where they were at.

Charlie tapped him on the arm and nodded. They resumed their trek.

A few feet farther Sam felt the second knob. It, too, was locked. But, while they were proceeding according to plan, they had crawled out of the range of the water's spray which had intensified the heat. Before Sam had time to adjust to that fact, he suddenly ran out of wall. He stopped, replaying the instructions he'd been given.

This had to be the space where the box crusher was. It should be about twenty feet deep and at least ten feet in length before he'd find any more wall. Trusting instinct and the manager's directions, he started to crawl, well aware that the farther they went, the closer they got to hell.

A few feet more and once again he felt wall to his right. Charlie tapped him on the leg, indicating that he'd felt it, too. Sam kept on moving, the flashlight's beam little more than a wink in the dense, acrid smoke.

Sam tried to slow his breathing, knowing that at the rate  he  was  going,  the  compressed  air  in  his  self-contained
breathing apparatus wouldn't last more than fifteen minutes. They couldn't be far from reaching their goal. All they had to do was keep moving. But the distance from the wall to the next landmark was farther than he imagined. Just when he feared they might be lost, he felt a long, metal handle. Adrenaline spiked.

The freezer. This had to be the walk-in freezer. Only a few more steps and he should be at the door to the men's bathroom. Please, God, let the kid still be inside.

“Johnny! Johnny! It's the Oklahoma City Fire Department. Can you hear me?”

Even as he called out, he knew hearing any answer would now be impossible. The hiss and roar of the fire was like an oncoming storm, and the constant explosions of aerosol cans and cleaning supplies in the front of the store sounded like ground warfare. He swept his hand along the wall, expecting at any moment to feel the doorknob to the men's bathroom, but there was nothing but smooth surface beneath his glove. The muscles in the backs of his legs had started to jerk from the tension of crawling and his gut was in knots. So if he was still on the right track, then where the hell was that door?

One second he was questioning their path and the next he was clutching a doorknob. The men's bathroom! It had to be the men's bathroom! Rocking back on his heels, he grabbed Charlie's shoulder and then
slapped the wall. Charlie nodded to indicate he'd seen it too.

Sam made a motion, then he and Charlie stood abruptly. Yanking the door open, they moved inside, quickly sweeping the flashlight beams in every corner. Almost instantly the room filled with smoke, but they had visibility long enough to know that there were two stalls besides the urinal, and they were both empty.

Ah God.

Charlie pointed toward the door. Sam nodded and they immediately turned, retracing their steps out of the bathroom. Either the manager had told him the wrong door, or the boy had tried to make a run for it and failed.

They dropped back to their knees, seeking respite from the thick and boiling smoke. The heat was intense now, seeping through their bunker gear. Everything inside Sam told him to run, to get the hell out while there was still time. His gloves were so hot, he imagined them melting into his skin. Staying any longer was going to be suicide, but oh God, he wanted to find the kid.

He thought of the mother—picturing her waiting—picturing her expression if they came out alone. Just one more sweep. They'd go back the way they came, but down the other side of the wall. Maybe they'd get lucky.

“Let's get out of here!” Charlie yelled.

Sam nodded, but took Charlie by the arm as he pointed.

“Down the other side as we go out!”

“Yeah!” Charlie shouted.

Sam grabbed the hand mike to tell their captain.

“Captain! It's Sam! We can't find the boy. We're coming out down the opposite side of the wall.”

A spate of static cut through the noise inside the building. Sam knew Captain Reed was answering, but couldn't make out anything except the words “now.” Then he heard Reed shout “breaking through” and his blood ran cold. The fire must have gone through the ceiling in back.

He pocketed the radio and shouted at Charlie.

“We gotta get out now!”

Charlie nodded and together they began to move. Seconds later, Sam realized he was no longer crawling on concrete. Even through the thickness of his gloves, he could feel the outline of a body on the floor.

“Charlie! We've got him!” Sam shouted.

Charlie crawled up beside Sam.

“You take his legs. I'll get his shoulders,” Charlie shouted.

But before they could move, a fireball exploded. Sam looked up just as a wall of flame came billowing toward them. Slapping Charlie's headgear, he screamed.

“Fireball! Get down!” then threw himself on top
of the unprotected boy, pulling him under just as the fireball roared overhead.

The horror of what was above him was equal to the fear of the too-still child beneath him. His mind was reeling. Was the kid already dead, and if he wasn't, how could they keep him alive? They couldn't go out the way they'd come in and there was no other exit except through the fire, which now was no option at all.

And then the answer came as suddenly and clearly as if someone had spoken right in his ear.

The freezer. Get inside the walk-in freezer.

He looked up, reaching for Charlie as he did and then his heart almost stopped. There was a large chunk of smoking metal on the floor that hadn't been there moments before—and Charlie wasn't moving.

“Charlie! Charlie!” he shouted, but Charlie didn't respond. Now Sam had two victims to worry about besides himself.

He scanned the area frantically as burning debris began to rain down on their heads. The freezer couldn't be more than four or five feet behind them. He grabbed his hand mike.

“Mayday! Mayday! We're trapped near the middle. I found the boy but Charlie's down. Repeat! I found the boy and Charlie's down!”

Another loud explosion rocked the building. Sam looked up. The ceiling was awash with flames, beautiful, deadly curls of orange and yellow rolling along
the surface of the ceiling, like surf upon the shore—defying gravity while consuming everything combustible in its path.