Post by Andrew Albright on Jun 16, 2009 14:01:27 GMT -5
Andrew felt a strange tickle that, for most people, would have been long preceded by vicious heat and pain. He looked down to be greeted by his boots burning, the tickle having been the inner lining catching fire. That was worth a curse, because it’d make things harder, but he couldn’t blame the boots. They were only rated up to about 600 degrees Fahrenheit, and it was easily half that again where he stood. I’ll have to ask those Atlas people if they can get me some boots of the same stuff they made the coveralls out of, he thought.
Shrugging out of the boots, he continued down the burning hallway, careful to watch where he stepped—the burning carpet underfoot might not hurt him, but impaling his foot on a carpet tack certainly would do the trick. The firefighters were back at the front of the building, trying to keep the inferno from spreading to others, but this deep in the fire devoured the place with a vengeful hunger.
But not entirely. Towards the end of the apartment tower’s hall, the fire had yet to reach, and as Andrew left the fire behind, he heard over the roar and crackle of the flames the sound of someone yelling for help. That they’d survived at all was a miracle, but that they hadn’t been found was less confusing; most of the windows in this old building had been painted shut long ago, never mind the massive safety issues. With the fire as loud as it was they would never have been heard, and even if they could have gotten the window open, jumping from six floors up was never a smart idea. He grabbed a fireproof pouch from his toolbelt and pulled his radio from it. “Chief Engstrom, we need a ladder in the alleyway, sixth floor. There’s… at least one person, maybe more, trapped in room 611.”
Shrugging out of the boots, he continued down the burning hallway, careful to watch where he stepped—the burning carpet underfoot might not hurt him, but impaling his foot on a carpet tack certainly would do the trick. The firefighters were back at the front of the building, trying to keep the inferno from spreading to others, but this deep in the fire devoured the place with a vengeful hunger.
But not entirely. Towards the end of the apartment tower’s hall, the fire had yet to reach, and as Andrew left the fire behind, he heard over the roar and crackle of the flames the sound of someone yelling for help. That they’d survived at all was a miracle, but that they hadn’t been found was less confusing; most of the windows in this old building had been painted shut long ago, never mind the massive safety issues. With the fire as loud as it was they would never have been heard, and even if they could have gotten the window open, jumping from six floors up was never a smart idea. He grabbed a fireproof pouch from his toolbelt and pulled his radio from it. “Chief Engstrom, we need a ladder in the alleyway, sixth floor. There’s… at least one person, maybe more, trapped in room 611.”