J.M.J.

Author's note: Thank you for continuing to read! Special thanks to Callensnext1, Rosemoor, Starbuckslady, and Elleshanndria for reviewing! It really means a lot to me! God bless!

Chapter 3

It didn't take the other units long to reach the scene, but Roy felt like it took forever. It only made it worse that every now and again, there was an ominous creak and then a much smaller crash as the debris continued to settle. It was sickening to think that Johnny and the child might have survived the first collapse, only to be crushed by one of these smaller ones while they waited to be dug out. It was even more frustrating that that was the very reason why they had to go about this slowly and methodically, so that the rescue efforts wouldn't accidentally cause any more of the building to fall.

Eventually, backup reached the scene, both firefighters and police. The police were just in time, too. Onlookers who had been curious enough to come and look when they heard the building collapse were only made more curious by the masses of emergency personnel taking an interest in the old, abandoned building. It didn't take long for rumors to spread that someone was trapped inside, and of course, the news team was gleefully verifying those rumors for their audience. It was only a matter of time before other news teams would start arriving.

Roy tried to ignore them. He knew they were just doing their job. Usually, the news teams that would cover the fires that they worked didn't bother him. He wasn't particularly eager to be interviewed, but he didn't shy away from it. This particular team, though, had rankled him by getting in his way earlier and by the sorts of questions they were asking. They gave Roy the distinct impression that it would suit them perfectly well if Johnny or the child—or both—had been killed and if they could make it look as pointless as possible, while also laying as much blame as possible wherever they could find to put it. In other words, they seemed to only care about getting the best possible story, by which they meant the most tragic possible.

Roy tried to shove it out of his mind as he worked at shoring up and securing as much of the building that was remaining so that they could then begin the process of digging. It was going to be a difficult enough process, but it was making it even worse that they didn't know exactly where in the building either Johnny or the child had been and whether Johnny had found the child before the building collapsed or not. They could be anywhere.

Every now and again, Roy noticed Captain Stanley trying to call Johnny on the handy-talky, and every time, there was silence. Roy tried to tell himself that this didn't necessarily mean anything. Johnny's handy-talky might have simply been lost or damaged. It didn't mean…Roy fought back those thoughts and continued to work. That was the most important thing right now: to work. It would help Johnny and the child a lot more than worrying could, and it was a lot less unpleasant for Roy.

Marco Lopez, the other lineman at Station 51, was working next to him. He was just tying off a rope and he glanced over at the paramedic. "Say, Roy?"

"What?"

"Do you think there's any chance…" Marco didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to for Roy to understand what he meant.

Roy tried to continue working without pausing. "I don't know. I really don't know."

The work was grueling, so all the men were ordered to take short, five-minute breaks fairly often. During his next break after that exchange, Roy went to the squad and found a bottle of water to take a drink.

To his annoyance, the same news team that had bothered him earlier was nearby. They didn't pay any attention to him this time; maybe they had decided that it was too risky to ask him questions in case he told them that they were getting in the way again. That couldn't have looked too good for them on live TV. Instead, this time, the cameraman was filming the rescue operation from an appropriate distance while the reporter provided commentary.

"There's still no word on the fireman or the child who were trapped inside this abandoned apartment building when it collapsed," she was saying in that intense tone that all reporters used. "None of the firemen here are willing to give an opinion on their chances, but you can tell every time another part of the building caves in that they're losing hope. Honestly, from what I can see, it would be a miracle for anyone to have survived in there."

This monologue was doing nothing to cheer Roy up and was sapping any rest he might have taken during this break, so he decided to cut the break short and get back to work. Then he paused as the reporter changed gears in her reporting.

"Police tell me that they suspect the child who is trapped was abandoned there," she was saying. "It's sad to say, but many mothers—especially single mothers and those in poverty—often find that they can't take care of a baby and so they see it as the most humane choice to abandon the child somewhere. Now a fireman may have given his life to save this child who is completely alone in the world and will almost certainly end up in the foster system like so many other unwanted children, never knowing a real family. If this child survives, chances are strong that it will not have a happy, fulfilled life. It's a very sad situation all the way around, and there is almost no possible happy ending to it."

Roy walked away. The reporter might as well have said that it was all a waste for Johnny to go in there, that this child didn't have any business being alive in the first place, and so why should anyone be asked to risk their life for it? The implication was clear: everyone would be a lot better off if the woman who had reported the child just would have ignored the cries she heard and gone on her way.

It made Roy's blood boil to hear someone talk that way, let alone on TV. This wasn't a puppy or a kitten where it really would be questionable for a human being to risk their life saving it; this was a human being. That alone made trying to rescue him or her the only option for anyone with a shred of decency. As for the child's prospects of future happiness, that was a poor thing to base the kid's value on and say that it was a waste to risk a life saving him or her. By that reasoning, wouldn't it follow that any time a fireman risked his life to save an attempted suicide victim it would be a waste of time? They were clearly unhappy already. And what about accident victims who would be paralyzed or lose a limb? Or who had lost a loved one in that very accident? Their chances at future happiness were severely lessened. Was this reporter really implying that it was a waste of time to rescue them if it required firemen to get into a precarious situation?

No, of course not, Roy told himself. If she'd thought about it at all, she was probably drawing the distinction that this was a baby who didn't even have a mother who loved him or her, who couldn't talk yet, couldn't contribute things, hadn't formed any friendships, had no family that cared, had no interests…yet. That was the key word.

Then Roy shook himself. Right now wasn't the time to be having a semi-philosophical silent rant at a reporter who was probably just thinking about her ratings more than anything else. He needed to keep working, keep focusing on that.

HBHBHBHBHB

The longer Johnny sat there against the basement wall, the worse everything became. At first, he was sufficiently grateful for not being trapped under a pile of plaster that his new position seemed practically like heaven, but that didn't last long. There was the dust for one thing. It was everywhere: thick, heavy, nasty plaster dust as well as who knew what else. There was probably quite a bit of mold mixed in it and mouse droppings. If he could have used his facemask, it wouldn't have really bothered Johnny, other than how difficult it was to see, but he knew that the baby needed it worse. He was guessing the baby to be less than a month old. Not only would there be more risk of long-term damage from breathing this junk in for a kid that age, there was a very real possibility it would smother the baby before they got out of here. Definitely, the kid needed the oxygen more than Johnny.

Still, if there was a way to not breathe it in, Johnny preferred that. He thought for several minutes, coughing until his throat felt dry and scratchy. Using his left hand, he searched his pockets for a handkerchief and finally found one. Tying it over his nose and mouth one-handed proved to be impossible, but when he tried to move his right shoulder, he found it so painful that a wave of nausea passed over him. That wasn't a good sign, he thought, as he cautiously let his arm return to its original position. His only choice was to hold the handkerchief over his face with his left hand.

It took a few minutes for the pain to subside. It never left completely, but finally it was manageable again. Once it was, he realized that the baby had started crying again. It had knocked the mask off its face, and Johnny replaced it.

"I know you probably want me to hold you," he said through the handkerchief in between coughs. "I've only got one hand, you see. I can't hold you and hold this handkerchief here at the same time, and I've got to be able to breathe. Just hang in there a little longer."

In reality, Johnny knew that it would be much longer than he was implying before they were dug out, but it wasn't like he was giving the kid any false hopes. The kid couldn't understand what he was saying. If it did, it obviously wasn't being comforted, because it just continued to cry.

"Believe me, kid, I feel exactly the same way," Johnny muttered as he looked around the room for anything that could help them get out or make their wait a little safer.

While he was still scanning the room, another section of ceiling started to fall in. Johnny instinctively turned to shield the baby again, bracing himself for more debris to fall on them, and this time, it would be just plaster. There was another plume of dust, and Johnny was forced to close his eyes.

When he opened them again, he saw that most of the rest of the basement had caved in now. The section where he and the baby were sitting was about the only part left. A ray of light was shining on the floor about three yards away from Johnny's feet. With a shock of horror, he realized it wasn't just the ceiling above them that was falling it; it was the whole three-story building. There was going to be so much debris, the rescue team was never going to find them without some kind of signal or something.

Johnny tried to think. There had to be something…Then he thought of it. It was so obvious, he felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. If light could get through that mass of rubble, a voice could carry through, too.

Careful not to put any weight on his right shoulder, Johnny crawled under the first foot or two of rubble to the little circle of light until he could look up through it. Yes, there was the smog-filled sky up above him. It had seldom looked so welcoming. He could also hear the sound of men working. That was welcome, too, but at the same time, Johnny hoped it wouldn't drown out the sound of his voice.

"Hey! Can anyone hear me up there?"

His voice was raspier than he realized it would be, but he reasoned that that shouldn't have come as a surprise. There was no response, so he tried again.

He would have tried a third time, but he heard an ominous creak. He looked just in time to see that the last of the ceiling was about to go, right on top of the baby.

A burst of adrenaline gave him the strength to ignore the pain in his shoulder and everywhere else and catapult himself back toward the child. He scooped it up in his arms, but he realized there was nowhere left to shelter. His best chance, he thought, was to dive back under some of the rubble that had already fallen and hope that it stayed in place. He started to, but he didn't make it before the last of the ceiling plunged down on him, drowning him in dust and pain and darkness.