Smoke Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  First published by BooksbyToye 2013

  Cover design copyright Lenny C. Middlebrook.

  Copyright © 2013 Toye Lawson Brown

  Published by: BooksbyToye

  All rights reserved

  Dedication

  I dedicate this book to the Cleveland Firefighter’s of Station 30. I want to thank them for taking the time to talk to me and sharing their knowledge of what it’s like to live the life of a fireman. They are true heroes’ and I thank God for them.

  Other Titles Available

  Obsessive/Obsession

  Nayla’s Dilemma-The Ends of Justice

  Fighting The Desires

  Law and Disorder: Partners Undercover

  A Love Delayed

  When The Music Stops

  Let Me Serve You

  Scenes To Steal The Heart

  Scenes To Steal The Heart-Final Act

  SMOKE & FIRE

  A Firefighter’s Love Story

  “Okay, Jonathan, take a deep breath, hold it for five seconds and exhale through your nose,” said Pam the x-ray technician.

  Standing with his bare chest against the cold plastic waiting for the x-ray to be taken, Jonathan inhaled deeply. The pain radiating in his chest worsen the longer he held his breath. The severity of the smoke inhalation and the bruised muscles and broken ribs he suffered falling through the porch, were keeping him confined to the hospital longer than expected.

  “We’re done,” Pam said coming from behind the protective shield. “The doctor will contact you once he’s read the x-rays. From what I saw of the images on the computer, your ribs seem to be healing nicely but your lungs have some healing to do yet.”

  Jonathan’s deep cough rattled in his chest. Feeling weak he steadied his body by placing a hand on the wall. “Thanks, Pam. Is it okay for me to get dressed?”

  “Certainly—do you need help?”

  The offer caused him to blush a deep red. “No, I think I can handle dressing myself.”

  She winked her eye. “I was not flirting.” She went back to her station saying,

  “But when you’re done dressing, I’ll call the Orderly to take you back to your room.

  Can I get you some water?”

  “No, I’m good. What I want is to get out of this hospital and back to my life. I hate being confined with sick people and have doctors prod at me,” he said slipping a tight knot to secure his robe together.”

  Pushing the wheelchair behind him, Pam motioned for him to sit and replaced the nose tube for his oxygen. “Unfortunately you classify as a sick person; inhaling all that smoke damaged your lungs. You’re very lucky to be alive, Mr. DeMinico.”

  “Swallowing smoke is part of my job and I anxious to rejoin my unit.”

  “I swear I don’t know how you do it. The job of a firefighter is hard and very dangerous. The young girl you saved is lucky you didn’t leave her behind. Do you know how she is doing?”

  He shook his head. “I’d asked a floor nurse if she had been admitted to this hospital, but she couldn’t tell me anything since I didn’t know her name.”

  “I’ll snoop around—maybe I can get a few answers for you. After all you deserve to know how she is doing; you risked your life saving her.”

  He tried to smile. “Don’t get in trouble asking questions because of me.”

  “No trouble at all. You’re all ready for your appointment with Respiratory Therapy. So you know, Millie is only working a half-day and Gabrielle King will be covering her patients the rest of the day.”

  “I wouldn’t mind being left off Millie’s list today. She is brutal and I hate the drugs administered with those breathing tests.”

  “You aren’t the only one that doesn’t like Millie, but she’s part of a team of great Respiratory and Pulmonary Specialists this hospital employs. You should be happy she is working with you. She’s your ticket out of here.”

  He raised his brow. “I didn’t say that. I don’t know Millie well enough to not like her; but, she does not give a good first impression with the way she barks orders.”

  Pam wheeled him into the waiting room and parked him facing the large

  television mounted on the wall. “Maybe you will get lucky and get Gabrielle. She’s an excellent Respiratory and Pulmonary Specialist, but a little on the quiet side. She’s really a nice person once you break through her shell.”

  “I’d whether deal with a quiet person who’ll go about doing her job whether than Millie the drill sergeant.”

  Pam shook her head with a small laugh. “Well, you’re free of me for now. Take care, Jonathan.”

  “Thanks again, Pam,” he said waving as she walked away.

  He relaxed in the wheelchair removing the oxygen from his nose. He sniffed the air and got a faint scent of ammonia along with the lingering scent of soot that seemed to be permanently etched in his sinuses. The fire had not only damaged his lungs, but had temporarily caused him to lose the ability to taste and smell—both were returning slowly but the smell of the burning house would always exist in his memory.

  The morning news playing on the television caught his attention. A blurb mentioning the two-alarm house fire his unit responded to was coming up. He leaned forward impatiently waiting for the commercials to be done. He wanted to see the piece before the Orderly arrived to take him back to his room.

  He stomped his foot on the metal plate of the wheelchair in disgust. It seemed like a hundred commercials were going to show before the news returned. A stocky young man wearing dark green scrubs and carrying a clipboard walked quickly towards him.

  “Mr. Jonathan DeMinico?” He asked before checking the white plastic

  identification tag attached to his wrist.

  The shortened breath that came from his baritone voice was raspy. “That would be me. Can you give me a second to catch this news segment?”

  The young man shook his head in a negative response. “Sorry, but we are crazy busy today. I gotta get a patient to surgery after I drop you off.”

  Propping his elbow on the arm rest of the wheelchair, Jonathan rested his head on his fingertips to massage his left temple. “Okay, let’s roll.”

  *****

  Jonathan arrived to his room greeted by the floor nurse squaring the ends of his freshly made bed. He noticed another large flower arrangement and a fruit basket sitting next to the balloons and get-well cards lining the window sill. He was lucky he didn’t share a room with another patient because his tokens from well-wishers had taken all the available shelf space in the room.

  The older nurse folded a blanket across the foot of the bed saying, “Let me help you into bed, Mr. DeMinico.”

  “I can do it.”

  “I know you can do it, but let me help anyway,” she said not taking any of his flack.

  He didn’t respond but let the nurse do her job. She appeared to be close to retirement age and a tad on the frail side. How she expected to lift his 6 foot 4 inch, 185

  pounds was puzzling him. He lifted himself from the wheelchair
not letting any of his weight rest on her tiny frame.

  “I can make it from here. I need to use the restroom while I’m up anyway.”

  She sighed. “I will be back in a few minutes with your medications.”

  “I’ll be here; not like I’m going anywhere soon.”

  After using the restroom, he brushed his teeth and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The wound from the fall above his left eyebrow was long and required two butterfly Steri-strips to hold it together. His helmet and mask had fallen off during the fall leaving his head and face unprotected and exposed. The few minor cuts on his neck were peeling and blending in with his skin tone. The burns he sustained to his hands were second-degree burns and were bandaged to protect against infection.

  His mind flashed back to the night of the fire. It was past midnight when Engine 30 and Ladder 30 got the job to respond to a triple two alarm fire on Cleveland’s eastside. They were the first responders to arrive on scene of the fully engulfed structure. Additional responding units could be heard blaring in the distance and soon were pulling up to assist.

  The Battalion 6 Chief shouted at a group of men to move away from the two and a half story frame. They were attempting to douse the fire with garden hoses.

  Lieutenant Murad went into command mode yelling for his men to bring in lines and setting the perimeters to get the fire under control before spreading to the houses on either side of it.

  Firefighter Gordon grabbed the tip from Ladder 30, while Firefighter Otto hooked the hose to the Pumper to charge the lines. Firefighter Jenkins pulled a hose racing to the back of the house to work the fire with Jonathan.

  Jonathan readying to attack the working blaze from the rear of the house overheard the hysterical cries of a woman. She was hysterically conveying to the Captain of Engine 26, that her daughter was trapped in a third floor bedroom.

  Bursting into action before firefighters could charge the lines to fight the raging inferno from the back side of the house; Jonathan dropped his end of the hose and ran around to the side of the house kicking in a door. The heavy black smoke rolled upward into the night air giving an indication how intense the flames were inside.

  With no hose to fight the flames inside, Jonathan began the search and rescue for the trapped child on the third-floor using his instinct and skill.

  He located the room on the third floor. The door was locked when he turned the knob. Breaking the door open with his shoulder, he heard soft muffled cries. The child was crying and shaking underneath a bed. Hoping to ease the child’s fear with his presence, he knelt down and lifted his face mask saying, “Hi, I’m Jonathan. I’m going to get you out of here, but we have to hurry, OK?”

  The frightened girl’s eyes were the size of saucers as tears pooled and ran down her face in big drops. She managed to nod her head taking his outstretched hand as he led her from her hiding place.

  Removing his SCBA, he placed it on her face and instructed her to breathe normally. “We’ll need to share, so save some for me.”

  Again she nodded but did not speak. “I gonna put my gloves on you to protect your hands and then cover you with a blanket; do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Her eyes never left his giving him confirmation she understood. He remained calm knowing if she started to freak it would slow the rescue operation, possibly trapping them on the third floor with a limited air supply to share. “Good. I want you to do me one last favor and close your eyes. When you open them again, I promise you’ll be with your family.” Folding the blanket around her small body, he tucked her close to his body and moved quickly to get them to safety.

  They made it to the second floor of the house before thick smoke began to affect him. Without his SCBA, he was in direct exposure with the smoke and other compounds burning inside the home. Coughing heavily, he felt his chest tightening but did not want to remove the oxygen from the child’s face. Exposing her to the toxins burning inside the home could be more harmful to her tender lungs, than his.

  Barely able to see through the dense smoke, he pressed forward. Dodging flaming material falling from the ceiling in the living room, he was forced into a hallway that had two doors.

  The Battalion Chief came over the fire ground channel instructing his crew to switch to Tac 6 to cut the surrounding radio traffic. He let Jonathan know help was inside and looking for him. Jonathan threw the high beam of the flashlight around the room shouting his name in case firefighters were closing in on his location.

  Balancing the child in his arms, Jonathan felt for heat on the first door before opening it; it was a half-bathroom with no windows to escape. Closing the door he felt on the second door. The door led to an enclosed porch. He used his helmet to break the glass to ventilate the area after heavy smoke began to filter in rapidly.

  Checking his air tank, it was low and only a few more minutes remained before it was completely empty. Sitting the child in front of the broken window he reached for the radio attached to his shoulder. “Chief, I’m at the rear of the house on a second floor porch. I need a ladder ASAP!”

  The chief replied, “Help is at your location, Jon—hang on.”

  Firefighter Anthony Jenkins hurried up the ladder breaking the remaining glass and tearing an opening in the wall to widen the narrow window frame. Suddenly, Jonathan felt a spray of water hit him from behind. He kneeled using his body to shield the child from the high water pressure shooting from the hose.

  Anthony leaned through the window, “Hand me the kid.”

  Picking the child from the floor, he handed her to Anthony who rushed her down the ladder to Firefighter Nick Barona who waited below. Retrieving his SCBA, it was empty. Jonathan’s throat and chest were burning fiercely as he tried to squeeze his body through the window opening to go down the ladder. Hearing a cracking noise, he looked up to see the ceiling of the porch ignite with flames. Before Jonathan could clear the window, the porch caved in taking him down.

  Anthony sustained minor injuries when he fell into the thick bushes lining the backyard of the house. He was on his way up the ladder when the porch broke away from the house. Jonathan took the brunt of the fall by crashing two-stories to the ground with burning debris burying him. Suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness, he felt his body being dragged from underneath the flaming material and voices yelling for him to hold on.

  A day later, Jonathan awoke in the Intensive Care Unit of MetroHealth Medical Center. His vision blurred as he scanned the room. IV lines dripped fluids from several bags into the thick veins of his right arm. Shooting pain radiated from every part of his body when he tried to move. His best friends and fellow firefighters Nick and Anthony were at his bedside, but he could not talk because of the tube inserted down his throat.

  They were both quick to inform him doctors were optimistic about his recovery and the tube down his throat was only temporary. The incident marked the first he’d been hurt in the line of duty in his ten-years as a firefighter.

  Shaking his head to clear the images of that night, he ran a bandaged hand through his wavy chestnut hair desperately wanting to take in a deep breath. He didn’t because of the painful coughing that would follow. It had only been a few days since the tube had been removed and he was allowed to get out of bed for short periods of time. He pretty much followed doctor’s orders and limited his time on his feet, since he didn’t want to do anything that would extend his hospital stay.

  Jonathan scratched the stubby beard that filled his normally clean-shaven face.

  Unknown hazel brown eyes stared back at him from the mirror. The white of his eyes remained red from the irritants of the smoke, giving him an eerie appearance.

  “Mr. DeMinico? Are you here?”

  Surprised, Jonathan turned his head to make sure it was his name being called softly from the other side of the door. Millie’s voice was gruff and far from friendly.

  He answered, “I’ll be out in a second.” Recapping the toothpaste and pulling a comb from the po
cket of his robe, stands of singed hair fell into the basin of the white sink.

  The nurse was not able to wash all the char from his hair with a washcloth. He checked his reflection one last time before leaving the bathroom. He felt like shit and looked exactly how he felt.

  “Okay, I’m with Respiratory therapy and here to administer your breathing treatment.”

  He came from the bathroom closing the door behind him. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m not moving too fast and working with two bandaged hands is becoming a bit of a challenge,” he said holding up his hands.

  The woman had her back to him assembling tubing to the oxygen flow valve on the wall. “Take your time and get comfortable. I have to finish setting up my equipment and get your information before we do anything.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed just as the nurse returned with his medication.

  “Here you go, Mr. DeMinico. After your treatment, I’ll be back to get your vitals and give you a sponge bath, if you want.”

  “Nurse Naomi, just point me in the direction of the shower; I don’t need to be sponge bathed anymore.”

  She pointed a long thin finger at him. “If I was a pretty young nurse you wouldn’t be fretting about getting that sponge bath; but I’m not offended you don’t want me to bathe you anymore. Oh, for a bit of good news, I heard you might be leaving soon.”

  His spirits lifted slightly. “Really—when?”

  “Maybe in a day or two,” she said shrugging her frail shoulders under the thick white sweater. “The doctor will talk you to about it.”

  “A day or two; I’m ready to go now,” he protested.

  She patted Jonathan on the shoulder directing her attention to the therapist busy doing her own thing. “Gabrielle, good luck with this antsy man; he’s a handful. If you need anything just hit the call button.”

  His eyes traveled in the direction of the woman now stooping down behind a cart. The long white lab coat and the way she was positioned hid her from his view.

  “Naomi, I don’t give you a hard time,” he said angling his head for a better view.

  Gabrielle’s voice was soft when she spoke to the nurse. “I’m sure we’ll be okay, Naomi.”