As the two of them held their breakfast meeting, Johnny raced home as quickly as possible without getting pulled over. He knew everyone had been watching him closely this last shift and he felt as though his skin was shrinking.
"If I didn't know it was possible, I'd swear my skin was steel and trying to suffocate me," he mumbled as he turned off his Rover and threw open the door.
Jogging up the stairs to his apartment, Johnny let himself in before quickly slamming the door close. Locking it didn't feel secure enough from the demons chasing him, he thought about placing end tables against it. Only the fireman in him stopped him.
"Jeez, Gage," he berated himself as he stripped off his clothes to shower. "Nuts enough?"
The bathroom was no longer a safe place, so he quickly showered and despite temperatures near 80's, he bundled up in boxers and a t-shirt before putting on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. His mind couldn't stop racing and the picture of the arsonist kept flashing in his head. There was something familiar about him.
Closing his eyes, Johnny prayed he would sleep. Instead, he was hurled back to a five story apartment building fire. It was one of the nicer apartment complexes, with good safety features and where a lot of families had lived. There, however, somehow the arsonist had turned off all the sprinkler systems and blocked many of the exits. The call had gone out right around 2 a.m. The first floor entry ways were filled with smoke and flames by the time Station 51's "A" shift got there less than 8 minutes later.
On every floor, there was fire and smoke. People were screaming, crying, begging for help. There were so many children and adults….
Shaking his head, Johnny opened his eyes, hoping to erase the images, but they kept coming.
Him and Roy gearing up. Going in the building. Finding so many dead bodies from smoke. More kids than adults had succumbed to the intense smoke, despite their parent's efforts. Bodies burning as parents huddled over their kids, trying to protect them, trying to find a way out. Some lowered their kids from the upper windows to get them out. It had been one of the worst fires the arsonist had done.
People accused the firefighters of not doing more. Screaming at him and his fellow firefighters. Hitting them with their words and fists until the police officers could get to them. The battle went on for hours. It wasn't until 12 hours later that the fire was finally out. The body count was staggering. 38% of the residents were dead, of those who perished, 21% were kids. 40% were injured - although only 19% were labeled severe. Somehow, the arsonist had been able to find the rooms of the children and ensure the most damage was done there.
Crying, he found himself, sitting in his cold bathroom, shivering with only his t-shirt on as the razor sliced through his thigh again and again.
"Make it stop, please God!" he moaned out. "Just let it stop!"
The blade slipped from his fingers from all the blood that had been spilled. Still needing something, he began pounding on his legs, unaware that his Captain had come to check on him and found him curled up in the corner.