Adrenaline pumped through Jack's body. The glow of a fully invested fire at the police precinct's Lifeline Centre was obvious over downtown Holywell a small town in the Flintshire district of Wales; the blaze well past being contained.
Turning in a rough one-eighty, Jack assessed the exposure factor, listening as the lieutenant issued orders. The precinct was part of an older area of town. A jumble of empty gift shops, a couple of grocery stores, and the mayor's building. Luckily, the precinct itself—a large two story building—was separated from the other structures with fifty feet to spare. The only buildings in danger of the fire spreading to them were first on the list to be hosed down. With well-oiled teamwork, the volunteer fire fighters stood next to the full-timers and began their work.
"Do we have anyone inside?" Chief Lethgren asked the gathered crowd. Jack's boss commanded respect. He was a lifer fire fighter, and obviously, people listened to him.
Jack recognized a couple of people there but had no idea who might be left in the building.
A man fell out of the fire-ringed main door and onto his knees, dishevelled and coughing.
Jack was there in an instant, wrestling the guy away from danger and guiding him toward the paramedics who had arrived a few seconds after the engine.
"Ianto…" A coughing fit overtook the man. "Inside," he finished when he could catch his breath. He was pointing back the way he'd come.
Jack stiffened. Was someone still inside? He focused on the chaos around him; on the shouting.
"Ianto's still in there," someone yelled. A tall man was being held back by a group of onlookers as he struggled to get free, looking around him in horror, like he couldn't believe this Ianto guy was still inside.
Jack didn't even think before crossing to the struggling man.
"Where?" he snapped.
The guy blinked but didn't falter. "Straight in. To the back and left rear. The Safe Room. He went in to get Duncan."
"That's Duncan?" Jack asked, pointing at the old man who'd just walked out of the fire.
"Yes."
"Okay. Going in," Jack confirmed into his mic.
Chief Lethgren spun on his heel at the words to face Jack, his expression one of "what the fuck" coupled with resignation. With a quick nod and no thought other than focusing on the job, Jack ensured his face mask was secure and ran straight into the red and orange, through the only suitable ingress—a space formed by an iron beam holding up the remains of the ceiling in what he assumed was the reception area.
The flames reached for Jack as he forced his way into a wide corridor. Fire licked the ceilings and walls. This had been fast—material in the walls and ceilings had fed the monster, and piles of folders and paperwork had provided more fuel.
Straight along the corridor. His heavy boots weighed him down. Focus kicked him into high gear. He breathed heavily with a mix of fear and excitement that fed his veins and arteries—the normal-use sixty-minute SCBA was going to be empty in a third of that time. Didn't matter, because the building was disintegrating around him in great big flaming chunks of hell.
Fire, that fucking mistress of his, was a killer, and he had every respect for her power. He reached a T-junction and took a left. The air thickened with smoke, and he prayed he wasn't too late. Anyone trapped in this sort of environment would be overcome and close to being out of it. He needed to find out where the man was.
Finally, through the smoke and sparking flames, Jack saw him trapped under a broken table. Jack scrambled to him, dropping to his knees and heaved at the table without success. The guy was a suicide prevention worker, dressed in a suit and tie and semiconscious.
It looked like the table had been moved by the unseen force of an explosion and had pinned him to the wall by his arm and chest.
"Help me!" the man shouted, although the words were slurred, and his eyes were slits against the smoke. Jack wished unconsciousness could subdue the man's fear.
Using the axe in his hand as a lever, Jack forced it against the table where it was embedded in the wall. He turned his back against falling debris and sheltered the trapped guy as much as he could as the entire ceiling descended a few feet with a sickening noise. Glancing back the way he'd come, he saw their way out was becoming blocked. More disturbing was the dark, black smoke that collected at high points. That wasn't good—in any way. The heat was intense and the dense, superheated cloud of fuel too rich to ignite. It was only a matter of time before flashover, and then it was game over for him and the man.
Pushing and pulling as hard as he could, Jack finally had enough leverage to allow the man to slide down the wall into a heap on the floor. Not stopping for anything, he scooped the heavy man up and over his shoulder and, with staggering steps, turned to face his nemesis. His muscles strained with the weight, heat, and lack of breath, and he went with his gut instinct. They needed out, and this was a dead end. They only had one option—to go back the way they'd come.
There was no freaking finesse in this plan. Training kicked in, and Jack did the only thing he knew would work. He ran. Stumbling through debris and wincing as fire flicked at him, he forced his way through the ruins of fallen ceiling and was back in the main corridor. A dreadful crash behind them left him very aware the building was disintegrating around him.
The doorway was lit up like a hoop of fire he had to leap through, and with the last push of energy, he was through the entrance and out onto the street.
Hands were there helping him, relieving him of his burden, and he could only watch as the whole building imploded and a huge explosion of dust and debris rose into the night.
There was screaming and shouting, but in Jack's head, there was only peace. He had done his job.