Concrete dug into your skin from beneath, the feeling of awkward silence hanging in the air as if to remind you this was simply a drill for firefighters. Among other volunteers was your near and dear friend, Milly Thompson. The moment you had picked up the phone, and been told you two were going to be doing something exciting, this was not quite what you imagined. Fun was a subjective word, and in the moment, you questioned Milly’s reasoning behind thinking volunteering to be hurled around by firefighters was ‘exciting’ and ‘fun’.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t see into her mind. The air conditioning let out a low purr across the large room. The silence was enough to tempt you to sleep, to lure you into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness. You were suddenly startled out of your drowsy state with the sounds of heavy footsteps echoed across the plain, concrete room as the firefighters jogged through the doorway. Instructions were barked out towards the team, as if it were an actual emergency with multiple injured civilians rather than an act.

From your peripheral vision, you could see Milly turn and look at you. Through the window curtains, pale moonlight lit the night sky. It wasn’t long until a man kneeled beside you, his dark eyes staring at the card on your chest. Picking the piece of plastic up between his fingers, he stared quietly. You could see his eyes scanning each word carefully, before he glanced to you. “Quite the unfortunate situation yer in,” The raven-haired man rasped out. He wore a tight black shirt, with the fire stations logo over his right pec. Traditional out of uniform firefighter attire.

As his arms wrapped around your waist, you noticed the dog tags that hung around his neck with a cross necklace. He carefully slung you over his shoulder, a low grunt ripping from his throat. “Let’s get ya out of here, angel.” His hand pressed against the small of your back as he walked carefully carried you over to a tarp laid out where ‘saved’ civilians would be placed.