His Holiday Family. Margaret Daley

cloud suspended from the ceiling in the foyer, the stairs to the second floor loomed. Crouching, he scrambled up the steps. The higher he went, the hotter it became.

       On the landing, he peered to the right, a wall of steely smoke obscuring his view. To the left, the way he needed to go, the gunmetal gray fog hovered in the hallway, denser at the top.

       Gideon dropped to his hands and knees and crawled toward Sally’s apartment. Sweat coated his body from the adrenaline pumping through him and the soaring temperature. The building groaned. Visibility only three feet in front of him, he hugged the wall, his heart pounding. He sucked air into his lungs, conscious of the limited amount of oxygen in his tank.

      Calm down. Not much time. In and out.

       Mindful of every inhalation, he counted the doors they passed in the corridor. One. Two. Three. The next apartment was Sally’s. His breathing evened out as he neared his goal.

       At number 212’s door, Gideon tried the handle. Locked. He rose and swung his ax into the wooden obstruction, the sound of it striking its target reverberating in the smoke-filled air.

       When a big enough hole appeared, Pete reached inside and opened the door. A pearly haze, not as heavy as in the corridor, engulfed the room. His partner rushed into the apartment, Gideon right behind him. In the small foyer, he noticed a large television on in the living room but didn’t see anyone in there.

       “I’ll take the left. You the right,” Gideon said, making his way down the short hallway to the first bedroom. “Fire department, is anyone here?” His gaze riveted to a double bed. He quickly searched everywhere two young boys might hide. Nothing.

       For a few seconds a memory intruded into his mind, taking his focus off what needed to be done. He shoved it away, went back in the hall and crossed to the other bedroom. After checking it, he came back out into the corridor and opened the last door to a bathroom. Empty.

       He pictured his neighbor’s daughter next to his captain, waiting for them to bring her sons out safely. The thought that he might not be able to quickened his breathing for a moment.

       When he met up with Pete in the small entryway, his partner said, “All clear in the kitchen as well as the living and dining rooms.”

       “The same in the bedrooms.”

       “Gideon, Pete, get out. Mrs. Hart sees her children and their babysitter. They just arrived and are safe,” his captain’s deep gravelly voice came over the radio.

       “We’re on our way.” Relieved the two boys and Sally were all right, Gideon and Pete made their way back into the main hallway.

       The smoke had grown thicker, darker. The crackling and popping sounds of the fire overrode the rumbling noise from the water continually bombarding the structure. A warning went off, signaling Pete only had five minutes of air left in his tank.

      Our time is running out.

       As those words flashed into Gideon’s thoughts, his breathing sped up for a few seconds before he reined it in. He’d been in similar situations. They would make it.

       Gideon gestured to his friend to go first. Every second counted. Pete came out of the apartment and got down on all fours, hurriedly heading for the stairs. Gideon crept along a body length behind his partner. As he crawled past the second apartment, his low-pressure air alarm alerted him to the need to move even faster.

       But the nearer he came to the stairs, the soupier his surroundings were. He barely made out the back of Pete only a foot in front of him.

       Gideon’s shoulder brushed against the door frame of the apartment nearest to the steps. Almost there. His inhalations slowed even more to conserve as much oxygen as possible. But heat warmed the inside of his protective suit, and sweat rolled down his face. Its salty drops stung his eyes. He blinked, his vision blurring for a few seconds.

       Then suddenly from above, wood and debris came tumbling down. Gideon lost sight of Pete in the dense smoke and dust. The crashing sound of a beam boomed through the air.

      Lord, help.

       Rolling onto his back, Gideon reached for his radio when another metallic moan cut through the noise of the fire. A piece of timber landed across his chest, knocking his radio from his hand. A sharp pain lanced a path through his upper torso. Then a second slab of lumber fell on top of the first. Gideon stared up as the rest of the ceiling plummeted. Air rushed out of his lungs, and blackness swirled before his eyes.

       Holding her two sons’ hands, Kathleen Hart watched them carry a firefighter out of the burning building. Fear bombarded her from all sides. He could die because she’d mistakenly thought her children and Sally were inside. She relived the few seconds when she’d seen Jared and Kip racing toward her with Sally Nance right behind them. The elation they weren’t trapped took hold. Then the knowledge she had unnecessarily sent two men into a blaze to find the trio swept away the joy. Now one of them was injured. Because of her.

       She turned to Sally. “Please keep the boys with you. I need to see how the firefighter is doing.”

       “Sure. I’m so sorry you didn’t realize I took Jared and Kip to the park. When the weather’s good, we’ve been doing that. With the storm coming, I didn’t know when we would get another chance anytime soon. I never in a thousand years thought my apartment building would catch fire and…” Her cousin gulped back the rest of her words and stared at the man on the stretcher being attended to by the paramedics.

       “I know, Sally.” Kathleen looked down at her sons, whose eyes were round and huge in their pale faces. “We’ll talk later.” She squeezed their hands gently, drawing their attention. “Stay with Sally. I’m going to check on the firefighter.”

       Tears shone in Kip’s eyes. “Tell him we’re sorry.”

       She stooped and grasped her nine-year-old’s upper arms. “Honey, it isn’t your fault.”

      And it isn’t my fault, either. It was an unfortunate accident. If only she could believe that.

       Even knowing that in her mind didn’t make her feel any better as she rose and headed toward the ambulance into which the paramedics were loading the firefighter.

       One of the paramedics hopped into the back of the emergency vehicle while the other shut the doors and started toward the front of the truck. She knew the paramedic because she worked as a nurse at Hope Memorial Hospital. Kathleen hurried her steps and caught up with the driver before he climbed into the cab.

       “How is he, Samuel?”

       “O’Brien may have some internal injuries.” Samuel gave her a once-over. “Did you just come from the hospital?”

       Still dressed in her scrubs, Kathleen nodded. “Will he make it?”

       “He should, barring any complications.” The paramedic jumped up into the ambulance.

       Kathleen backed away from the vehicle and watched it leave the scene. She squeezed her eyes closed, still seeing the flashing lights in her mind. She couldn’t shake the tragedy of the situation—one she’d had a part in. Just like another one, not long ago.

       She tried to clear her mind of the memory. When would this go away?

       Someone tugged on her arm. She looked down at Jared, her seven-year-old son, with worry in his expression. “Sally said he went in searching for us. Is that true?”

       “Yes. When I didn’t see you outside with the other tenants, I thought you all were still inside.”

       “Is he going to be okay?” Kip asked as he approached her. Sally followed right behind her son.

       “The paramedic thinks so.” She hoped Samuel was right.

       “Mom, he’s got to be.” Kip’s lower lip quivered. “I begged Sally to take us to the park.”

       “Honey, you didn’t know what might happen.” She needed to listen to her own words, but that wasn’t