"An Apple a Day"
Chapter Four
While they were still several blocks from the fire scene, Chief McConike's requests for additional alarms and ambulances came over their trucks' dash-mounted radios.
Station 51's Captain exchanged solemn glances with his engine crew.
They were obviously in for a 'bad one'.
The firemen reached their destination a short time later.
The 14th floor of a sixteen-story redbrick apartment building appeared to be fully involved. Columns of thick, black smoke were billowing out of a row of opened windows on the fire floor. Dozens of trapped people were dangling out of their apartments, in a desperate attempt to escape the flames—and find some breathable air.
Tenants were streaming steadily out of the burning building's two main entrances and onto the sidewalk.
Equipment-laden teams of firefighters, wearing turnout gear and air tanks, passed the evacuees in the propped open doorways, en route to their assigned tasks.
Two police officers had taken it upon themselves to escort the exiting civilians away from the fire scene. Four more of their fellow cops had their hands full keeping the growing crowd of 'gawkers', and the various television news' crews, at bay.
The recent arrivals were told where to park their rigs.
"L.A., Engine 51. Station 51 is on scene," Stanley informed headquarters, just prior to exiting the engine.
"10-4, Engine 51," L.A. acknowledged.
Hank pocketed his handheld radio and went trotting over to where Gage had been ordered to park the Squad.
Anticipating that they would be entering the burning building at some point, his men began pulling on their self-contained breathing apparatus.
The Captain managed to reach Roy, just as he was about to don his air-pack. "Don't bother. You will be staying put."
DeSoto did not protest. He simply returned his SCBA to its side compartment and then sat down, rather heavily, on their rescue truck's side running board.
Stanley gave the feverish fireman's right shoulder a pat of sympathy and support and then headed over to Incident Command, to receive their station's assignment.
Less than a minute later, the fully briefed fire officer came running back up to his crew. "Grab every lifebelt and piece of rope we've got and follow me!"
They did.
51's crew met up with 16's and 36's on the sidewalk in front of the building. The three fire stations joined forces and then headed inside—single-file.
As senior captain, Hank Stanley had been placed in charge of the operation.
On the way to the building's east stairwell, the firemen were informed of their joint mission.
Since the fire victims currently could not be reached from the inside, their stations had been assigned to try to rescue them from the outside—from the roof, to be more specific.
Stanley proceeded to explain the plan to his team. It was simple enough. Lifelines would be dropped, lifebelts would be buckled and the fire victims would be lowered—three floors down—to the caged platform of 123's fully-extended snorkel.
The plan was simple, all right. But, before it could be carried out, the firemen would first have to carry themselves—plus their 40lb. air-packs, heavy coils of rope and other extraneous 'high rescue' gear—up sixteen flights of ridiculously steep stairs.
The Captain halted their upward progress on the eighth-floor's landing, to give his completely winded guys—and their leaden legs—a bit of a breather.
The tired team of rescuers finally reached the roof.
Air bottles and rope coils were quickly shed.
Lifelines were hastily rigged and manned.
John Gage secured his broad leather lifebelt to one of them, latched onto another and then disappeared over the side of the building.
There wasn't a moment to lose.
As the paramedic was being lowered two-stories down, to the fire floor, the Captain explained—via his bullhorn—exactly how the rescue was going to take place.
In the off-chance that one or more of the trapped apartment dwellers hadn't heard his 'rescue message', Stanley remained standing at the edge of the roof and repeated it—several more times.
The rescue plan worked slick!
The roped paramedic was swung across the face of the fire floor, moving quickly from one smoke-billowing open window to another, buckling trapped residents into lifebelts and then securing them to the dangling lifelines.
Once a fire victim was secured to a rope, he or she was promptly lowered another three-stories down, to the caged platform on top of 123's fully extended snorkel.
When the caged basket became filled with rescued people, the snorkel's 100' long hydraulically-operated ladder was slowly retracted and carefully lowered back down to street level, where teams of paramedics were standing by to treat burns, as well as the many cases of smoke inhalation.
Yes, the exterior rescue operation was progressing smoothly—almost too smoothly.
Dozens of dangling people had already been buckled into lifebelts and lowered to safety.
'Only four more to go,' Gage silently realized as he was swung over to yet another smoke-billowing window.
The apartment's coughing occupant saw the snorkel's crowded platform pulling away from the burning building and panicked. Flames were now licking at his ass, and the dangling fireman's rope was now within his reach. He could stay there and burn, or he could dive out the window. It was a 'no brainer'…literally!
"The ladder'll be back up in a just a couple a' minutes," the paramedic quickly and calmly reassured the panic-stricken guy. "Just let me put this belt on you, and then we'll get the rest of you out of there," he further assured the big, burly fellow, who was already hanging half-way out of his flame-filled apartment. John was just about to grab the dropped lifebelt and lifeline beside him, when the fire victim jumped. "No! Wait! Don't—!"
Two floors up, in the middle of the roof…
The guys who were manning Gage's lifeline were nearly jerked clean off of their feet.
"What the hell?" Chet managed to shout out, as all four of them suddenly went flying forward—and almost right into—the air-conditioning unit they'd been using as their 'base of operations'.
At the same time, the rope they'd been grasping so securely began slipping through their hands at a rather high rate of speed. The firemen could feel the heat that was being generated from the friction, right through their thick leather gloves.
The Captain knew his dangling crewman was in serious trouble the moment he heard Kelly yell, 'What the hell?' Stanley glanced down just in time to see Gage—and another, much bigger guy—crash-land onto the wrought-iron balcony railing of an apartment two-stories below the fire floor.
Well, it was just John who actually hit the railing.
The bigger guy's crash-landing had been cushioned by the paramedic's body.
Hank winced and thumbed his HT. "Engine 51 to HT 51. John? Are you okay, pal?"
Silence.
TBC