Free Hearts on Fire by Bree Roberts

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter One
     
     
    “Jess, you’re the only one left inside. Get the hell out of there now!”
    The crackle of the radio was a relief to Jess; a lifeline that kept her connected to the outside, to safety. To life.
    Keying up the radio attached to her jacket, she replied “I think I heard a baby cry, Chief.”
    Battalion Chief James Clay cursed under his breath. “Jess, structural integrity is rapidly deteriorating. Get out now, unless you want to be brought out. In a body bag.”
    Jessica O’Malley ignored the command. Sweat beaded on her forehead underneath her mask and she closed her eyes, listening. The roar of fire filled her ears to compete with the heavy breaths she sucked through her self-contained breathing apparatus. Creaking wood groaned and cracked with the stress of the heat and fire. Hearing a baby cry through that had to be the stress of the moment playing tricks on her. The smoke rolled dark and gray through the room, down the hall and up through a hole vented into the roof by the ladder guys.
    She carefully inspected the room through the wall of smoke, her eyes roaming from one quadrant to the next. Against one wall sat a brown vinyl sofa, its surface ripped and saggy with use, smoke rising from its surface as it began melting in the heat. On the floor next to it sat a stack of magazines and a baby bouncer.
    Empty.
    “Chief, nobody brought out a baby?”
    “Negative. We rescued one adult female. Get out of there. That’s an order. You’re out of time.”
    “There’s a baby here. I know it.”
    “Damn it, Jess. Get out now .”
    No can do. I’m not leaving a baby. Not today. Her mind was moving fast but her body stood perfectly still. There was no baby here. She’d already been in the bedrooms. The crib was empty. What had she missed?
    Running into the burning kitchen, she glanced around quickly. Flames licked at the walls, at the ceiling. The soot of melted vinyl shades and plastic appliance knobs mingled with the cinders of everything else digested by the fire, sticking to walls, ceiling, counters. What was left of them anyway. No baby.
    “Damn. I know what I heard.” Frustration clawed at her belly, fear squeezed at her heart. Not fear for herself, but for the baby she knew was here. Fear that she’d not find it in time.
    Down the hall she peered once more into bedrooms. The crash of the collapsing ceiling back in the kitchen shook the floor and vibrated through her body, and she forced her feet to move faster. The place was starting to fall apart, and the need for a quick exit made her more antsy.
    Bedroom. Bedroom. Closet. Bathroom .
    She stopped short by the bathroom door. It was dark in there and she’d given it no more than a cursory glance before. Jess reached for the flashlight strapped to her chest gear and snapped it on, playing its strong beam into the interior of the small room.
    The vanity was crowded with hair accessories, makeup, and an assortment of lotions. A pile of dirty towels littered the warped linoleum floor. Perched atop the toilet tank was baby powder, a box of tissues and a bottle of Lysol.
    She traveled the light along further, past the toilet to the shower curtain covered with giant green polka dots. There, in the bathtub, was a white plastic infant tub. A naked, slippery little baby lay lifeless within, its little arms slack, its eyes closed as if it were sleeping. Water covered the lower half of its body but its head was not submerged.
    Jessica’s heart leapt into her throat. Quickly grabbing a towel from the rack, she used it to lift the baby and wrap it in one deft motion. Then she began the slow run that nightmares are made of, her legs maddeningly mired in panic and heat and disbelief, baby clutched to her breast with the protection of a mother’s instinct she’d never before encountered, never known herself capable of. Fifty pounds of turn-out gear conspired to slow her down and the handle of the axe strapped around her waist