Chapter 5
With a guttural heave, Vance wrenched the warped piece of corrugated steel aside, tossing it clattering into the darkness. Beneath it lay a charred turnout coat, the yellow stripes melted into black blisters, bearing the stenciled name MILLER across the shoulder yoke.
Vance’s breath caught in his throat. He reached down, his gloved fingers trembling as he grabbed the collar of the coat and hauled it upward.
It was empty.
No body. No trapped firefighter. Just the shredded husk of personal protective equipment left behind in the mud and ash of a floor that had partially given way into the basement crawlspace below. Vance clicked on his heavy-duty flashlight, sweeping the narrow beam down into the dark, water-filled void beneath the floorboards. The water was knee-deep, reflecting the erratic amber glow of distant flames, but there was no sign of a man, no movement, no trail of blood or discarded boots.
“Command, this is Vance,” he spoke into his radio, his voice strained and ragged. “I’ve located sector three collapse. I have Captain Miller’s coat and primary gear, but… negative on personnel. Repeat, negative on personnel.”
“Vance, get out of there now!” Harrelson’s voice barked back instantly, laced with panic. “Thermal imaging shows a secondary collapse signature moving directly toward your position from the east wall. Get out!”
Before Vance could turn to retrace his steps, a heavy roar shook the foundations of the mill. A towering stack of wooden pallets fifty feet away groaned, leaned, and came crashing down across his primary exit route, burying the doorway beneath tons of burning debris.
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Vance swore loudly, his mind racing through survival training protocols. He pivoted, sweeping his light along the charred brick wall until he spotted a narrow, iron-barred window high up near the ceiling, leading out into a blind alleyway between the mill and an adjoining storage shed.
Without a second thought, Vance holstered his flashlight, jammed his boots into a crevice in the brickwork, and hauled his fifty-year-old frame upward, using every ounce of remaining adrenaline to smash his shoulder through the rusted iron frame. Glass and rotten wood exploded outward into the cool, rain-washed air of the alley. Vance scrambled through the opening, tumbling headfirst onto the wet pavement below just as the entire eastern wall of the textile mill imploded behind him in a towering wall of orange fire and black smoke.
