Combustible (A Boone Childress Novel) Read Online Free
Author: CC Abbott
Captain." Like a ship, on a job the captain was god and you had to do what he said, period, or somebody would get hurt.
As he started pulling hose, Boone felt a strong sense of déjà vu. The situation seemed so familiar. A farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, a fire that burned so quickly that the firefighters who responded could do nothing but contain the fire. Last weekend, the men at the Frisco station house had talked about another fire. There was something about it in the newspaper, too. An empty house. A hot, fast fire. It could have been kids playing, or a lightning strike, or spontaneous combustion.
T he similarities were too striking to disregard.
What if there was a serial arsonist at work?
An hour later, the fire was almost under control. Otto and Julia had soaked down the roof and worked around to the back of the house to the kitchen. Lamar ordered Boone to back them up, as Julia was dealing with the line. Boone tied a clove hitch knot to secure a reel of unused hose, then went to help Julia.
He pulled on the thick blitz line hose. The charged hose was as hard as concrete and equally as heavy. He held onto it, supporting Julia as he opened the chrome nozzle, and the battering ram of water broke free. The line fought Boone as much as he did fought it, and his facemask was immediately soaked with backwash from the nozzles.
"Sit tight!" Julia ordered Boone, then turned her attention to the structure. "I'm taking the hooligan to it."
With one deft swing, Julia knocked open the back door.
Fueled by fresh oxygen, the fire came alive, and flames danced out. They seemed to be suspended in air, a ballet dancer in the midst of a grand jeté, and then hit the ground with a roaring ovation of sound and heat.
Julia fell back onto the porch, her arm thrown across her face to cover the shield. Otto hit the fire with a jet from the house, and Boone ran around to help Julia to her feet. She was as solid as an engine block, but a backdraft could throw her around like a rag doll.
"I’m fine." Julia said as she yanked away from Boone. "Lucky I landed on my ass."
"Yeah, it's got the best padding," Otto shouted .
"Look who's talking," Julia said and walked off the porch holding her back. She pulled the helmet from her smoke-encrusted face and took a deep breath of air. "Hold down the fort, boys. I’ve got to have a cigarette."
She wandered several yards away and pulled a pack of Marlboros out of a pocket. A lot of firefighters smoked. Every time Boone had to define ironic, he thought of firefighters with charred face lighting up a cancer stick. But Julia’s smoking wasn’t ironic. It was stupid and tragic.
Then Boone heard it—a scream from inside the house.
" Julia!" he shouted. "Somebody's in there!"
Julia cupped a hand to her ear. "What?"
"Inside! There's somebody inside the house! I just heard a scream."
"The house is empty," Julia called back. She dropped the cigarette and reached for her helmet.
"I heard it—yes! There it is again. From the back of the house."
Boone peered into the smoke-filled corridor. Julia had cut the flames down, and the way was clear.
"Hold on , rookie! Don't you do it!"
Before Julia could stop him, Boone bounded inside. He dropped his face shield into place.
The corridor from the back door was shrouded in thick smoke. It clung to the ceiling like a smoky curtain. Below that, the smoke was lighter, thinner, a roiling cloud that Boone ducked under as he crunched over the debris on the floor, stomping his heavy boots to make sure the footing was solid. He sloshed through standing water. Sometimes, it could get so hot, it boiled around your boots and steamed your toes inside.
He turned right at the first doorway and entered a small bedroom. The windows in the room were heavily smoked. They were so dark, n o light could reach inside. He clicked his head beam on and began turning in a tight circle. He scanned the area, noting the burned-out box mattress in the corner, an open closet,
As he started pulling hose, Boone felt a strong sense of déjà vu. The situation seemed so familiar. A farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, a fire that burned so quickly that the firefighters who responded could do nothing but contain the fire. Last weekend, the men at the Frisco station house had talked about another fire. There was something about it in the newspaper, too. An empty house. A hot, fast fire. It could have been kids playing, or a lightning strike, or spontaneous combustion.
T he similarities were too striking to disregard.
What if there was a serial arsonist at work?
An hour later, the fire was almost under control. Otto and Julia had soaked down the roof and worked around to the back of the house to the kitchen. Lamar ordered Boone to back them up, as Julia was dealing with the line. Boone tied a clove hitch knot to secure a reel of unused hose, then went to help Julia.
He pulled on the thick blitz line hose. The charged hose was as hard as concrete and equally as heavy. He held onto it, supporting Julia as he opened the chrome nozzle, and the battering ram of water broke free. The line fought Boone as much as he did fought it, and his facemask was immediately soaked with backwash from the nozzles.
"Sit tight!" Julia ordered Boone, then turned her attention to the structure. "I'm taking the hooligan to it."
With one deft swing, Julia knocked open the back door.
Fueled by fresh oxygen, the fire came alive, and flames danced out. They seemed to be suspended in air, a ballet dancer in the midst of a grand jeté, and then hit the ground with a roaring ovation of sound and heat.
Julia fell back onto the porch, her arm thrown across her face to cover the shield. Otto hit the fire with a jet from the house, and Boone ran around to help Julia to her feet. She was as solid as an engine block, but a backdraft could throw her around like a rag doll.
"I’m fine." Julia said as she yanked away from Boone. "Lucky I landed on my ass."
"Yeah, it's got the best padding," Otto shouted .
"Look who's talking," Julia said and walked off the porch holding her back. She pulled the helmet from her smoke-encrusted face and took a deep breath of air. "Hold down the fort, boys. I’ve got to have a cigarette."
She wandered several yards away and pulled a pack of Marlboros out of a pocket. A lot of firefighters smoked. Every time Boone had to define ironic, he thought of firefighters with charred face lighting up a cancer stick. But Julia’s smoking wasn’t ironic. It was stupid and tragic.
Then Boone heard it—a scream from inside the house.
" Julia!" he shouted. "Somebody's in there!"
Julia cupped a hand to her ear. "What?"
"Inside! There's somebody inside the house! I just heard a scream."
"The house is empty," Julia called back. She dropped the cigarette and reached for her helmet.
"I heard it—yes! There it is again. From the back of the house."
Boone peered into the smoke-filled corridor. Julia had cut the flames down, and the way was clear.
"Hold on , rookie! Don't you do it!"
Before Julia could stop him, Boone bounded inside. He dropped his face shield into place.
The corridor from the back door was shrouded in thick smoke. It clung to the ceiling like a smoky curtain. Below that, the smoke was lighter, thinner, a roiling cloud that Boone ducked under as he crunched over the debris on the floor, stomping his heavy boots to make sure the footing was solid. He sloshed through standing water. Sometimes, it could get so hot, it boiled around your boots and steamed your toes inside.
He turned right at the first doorway and entered a small bedroom. The windows in the room were heavily smoked. They were so dark, n o light could reach inside. He clicked his head beam on and began turning in a tight circle. He scanned the area, noting the burned-out box mattress in the corner, an open closet,
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