His radio crackled.  “Gerry, I swear to god, if you don’t get your ass down here pronto I’m leaving you up there all night.  Do you have any idea what time it is?  Becki will have my skin!”

Gerry sighed.  It had been a long shift, and it wasn’t his fault that the weather had slowed everything down.  It was him up here, after all, while that idiot Jack was in the warmth of the portacabin, two hundred feet below.

He lowered the crane’s hook, setting it back into its resting position.  With a weary sigh he flicked everything to neutral, switched off the controls and started to pack up his belongings.  Heater off, thermos in his backpack, keys removed.  Jack had kept him up far longer than had been scheduled, and the fatigue was real. 

His radio crackled again.  “Gerry, I’m not fucking around anymore.  The winds are picking up. Get your ass down here right fucking now, and… mind your way.”  Jack sounded concerned.  Probably because he knew how close he’d cut it with the weather they were expecting, but nevertheless Gerry picked up his pace. 

There was a blast of cold air as he opened the cab.  He shivered as he eyed the long ladder beneath him.  Heights had never bothered him, but… ladders in the rain and the wind?  No sane person thought that was a good time.  He clipped on his harness and began the uncomfortable descent.

Gerry was a third of the way down before he remembered.  Fuck!  I am way too damn tired.  He wrapped an arm around a rung and reached for his radio.  “Boss?  Could you eyeball the boom?  I forgot to double-check the locks.”

His radio crackled in reply.  “Did you park it up, Gerry?”  Not the affirmative he was looking for.  He sighed.

“Yeah, I parked it.  But I forgot to check the safety on the lock.  Can you see it from where you are?”

“For fuck’s sake, Gerry, get your ass down here.  The weather is getting worse and I want to go home!”

Another sigh.  Jack couldn’t be bothered to get out of his warm portacabin and walk around to look at the boom: all of one minute.  Fine.  “Gonna go back up and check the safeties, boss.”

“That’ll take you…!  Okay, okay.  I’ll check.” The radio went quiet for a few seconds, before crackling again.  “It’s parked, okay?  Now if you’re not down here in ten minutes, you’ll be working a double shift this weekend.”

What an asshole.  Gerry shook his head and continued his climb down.

*

Vicki kicked open the door of her apartment, a rain-soaked, brown paper bag heavy with groceries clutched delicately in both arms.  She leant back long enough to pull her keys from the lock, carefully balancing the bag on her chest with one arm supporting it from below. 

She nursed the wet bag into the kitchen, anxious to set it down before it split and spilled three days’ worth of food over her floor.  The door swung shut behind her with the reassuring sound of the latch engaging as Vicki staggered to the counter, depositing the bag with a sigh of relief.

She slipped her work daypack from her back, lowering it carefully to the floor – it wouldn’t be good to bounce her laptop.  The bag was drenched, but she knew it was waterproof; it could wait a little longer.  She pulled off her coat, leaving it on the back of the kitchen chair to drip-dry.  She’d mop it up later.  Her long, wet hair immediately soaked the back of her sweater, but that didn’t matter as the rain had already leaked through.  Some food, and a shower… maybe not in that order.  She shivered; it was too cold to have wet hair and damp clothes.  A hot shower was exactly what she needed.

Vicki picked up the TV remote and flicked on the news channel, letting the noise wash over her as she considered her day. 

“…one of eight passengers aboard a plane that reportedly crashed on Wednesday…”

She’d finished her project three days ahead of schedule and her manager had gratefully given her the rest of the afternoon off.  It was a pleasant surprise and a helpful sign of his approval, especially when her quarterly appraisal was the following Tuesday.  She pulled her sweater off, draping it on the chair nearby.

“…the Russian Aviation Authority has confirmed…”

She could really do with a raise.  She’d worked damn hard these last two years, and maybe showing what she’d done in her project would be the incentive her manager needed to agree.

“…Reuters reports.  More on our main story later.”

Her blouse was next, button by button, and she made her way through to the bedroom.  Perhaps, with a raise, she could start to save enough for a deposit and finally get out of this shitty apartment.  Maybe move into a place where they’d actually repair things occasionally.

“…update on the weather conditions we can expect this evening and on into the night…”

She slipped the blouse off her shoulders, tossing it into her hamper before heading into her bathroom to turn the shower on full.  It always took a moment to warm up.  Returning to her bedroom Vicki unbuttoned her jeans, just as the weather reporter said something that caught her attention.

“…and it’s evident that we’re in for a bit of a wild ride…”

Chance would be a fine thing, she thought as she heard the TV.  She pushed down her jeans.  When was the last time she’d had a wild ride?  It had been too long… longer than she cared to remember.

“…significant low-pressure systems moving in from the west, bringing more torrential rain and a surge of strong winds…”

Yeah, she’d noticed the torrential rain, but thanks for the heads-up.  Shower, food, relax for a bit, bed.  She stepped free of her jeans and pulled off her bra, panties and socks, throwing them all in the hamper, and padded naked into the bathroom and her hot shower.

Behind her, the TV droned on.

“…picking up speed throughout the night, potentially reaching gusts of up to sixty miles per hour…”

*

“Fuck me, Gerry, you know we’re not allowed to run it in the dark!”

Gerry glanced casually out of the portacabin window.  It was technically twilight, so they were okay on that point. And still it was barely 5:20pm.  He’d been down by five, and it had been Jack that had kept him up there, the hypocrite.  Now he was venting. 

“I’m outta here, Gerry.” Jack was pulling on his coat, zipping it up.  “If I have to tell those guys one more time…”

Gerry tuned out Jack’s complaining; he’d heard it all before.  They hadn’t broken the rules about operating in the dark, and besides, the wind was a far worse problem.  As if to emphasise the point the windows of the portacabin shook fiercely, and rain pummelled the roof.  Gerry glanced out of the window again.  If he’d still been up there in this…

Outside there were shouts.  At first, Gerry wasn’t sure what he’d heard over Jack’s continued bitching and the howl of the wind outside, then his brow furrowed.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, interrupting Jack’s complaining, his usually calm tone carrying an edge of urgency.

“What?” asked Jack, stopping to listen.  The portacabin windows shook again, the rain adding a rapid staccato.  “You mean the wind?  Fierce, eh?”

“I thought I heard someone yell,” Gerry said, putting down his coffee and making his way to the cabin door.

“Well I’m off, so you deal with their beef, okay?”

A sound unlike any Gerry had ever heard screeched through the night, yet he knew instinctively what it signified and for a moment his hand froze in shock on the handle.  Then he’d ripped it open, racing outside.  Above him the boom whistled through the air, the steel cable whipsawing and twisting.

“…No…!” Gerry could only watch in anguish as the hook whipped past, and he knew the doom this could spell.  A moment later it smashed through the wall of the foundation core they’d finished just last week.  The hook snagged, the boom lashing back and forth like an angry cat’s tail.  “You lying cunt!” he turned to yell at Jack.  “You said you’d checked it!”  Gerry ran down the ramp, heading for the ladder to the crane.  It would take him at least twenty minutes to climb back up, and there was no guarantee he could regain control even once he was there.

“I…” behind him Jack could only stare, his eyes wide with fear.

The hook was well-caught, Gerry realised.  Perhaps that would buy him some time… but the boom was still thrashing in the wind, and suddenly the air was filled with the sound of screeching metal.  Whatever had caused the chain of events Gerry wouldn’t know until the accident report weeks later, but that didn’t stop it all playing out before him. 

The momentum of the boom combined with the abrupt pull of the snagged hook destabilised the crane.  That had been enough for the wind to take advantage, and the crane had begun to rock in its foundation.  In theory the anchors should have supported it still, but one had an undiscovered fault in its chain that first stretched then snapped with the torque of the shifting weight.  The crane’s foundations should’ve prevented that from happening, but while the foundations were solid the ground beneath had become water-logged, providing just enough give to allow for movement – and in winds this strong, that was all it took.  With the added mechanical forces from the flailing boom the stability was compromised in mere seconds, and the merciless wind took gleeful advantage.

Gerry could only watch as the crane began to topple, seeming to fall so very slowly, until gravity took a hold and it came crashing down. 

270,000 pounds of steel fell against an adjacent apartment block and to Gerry’s surprise it all but bounced off.  But the shock caused the mast of the crane to warp, applying torque to the momentum of the falling counterweight, and it swung round like a giant’s fist and smashed into the same building.  By sheer dumb luck and the randomness of all the contributing factors, the counterweight seemed to scrape through the outermost wall, shredding it in the process, but blessedly failing to penetrate into the apartments within.  Through the rain, wind and darkness, Gerry could see into the apartments as the wall was stripped away, fleeting images assailing his mind that would remain with him forever: a family cowering in each other’s arms, staring out at the devastation around them; a man seated at a table, stunned into immovability as he was revealed to the world; two women screaming as blocks of concrete fell about them.

For a long moment he could only stand and stare, paralysed by the responsibility and guilt that threatened to crush him.

It was several minutes before the sirens started, one after another after another, until even the rain and wind fell quiet before them.

*

Vicki huddled in the bottom of her shower cubicle, her arms wrapped around her head as about her the world slowly stopped shaking. 

Her breath was coming in gasps, her eyes wide with fear in the darkness.  The lights had gone out, but the shower was still on.  Yeah, silver linings - an absurd thought in the face of calamity.

There was a cold gust of wind and she peeked from under one arm.  Part of the bathroom wall had collapsed in rubble, and the door had been smashed open by falling debris.  It blocked the lower half of the doorway, but over it she could see dense, dark clouds, illuminated from below by the lights of the city.

The wall!  Where the fuck is the wall?!

Wind was whistling through the space that had once been her bedroom. 

The lights flickered on again, enough to show the ruins of her apartment and the steel girder blocking the door to her bathroom, before the bulbs inset in her ceiling all blew as one, and darkness descended once more. 

Vicki bit back a scream, pressing herself into the corner of the shower.

The lights… she thought.  To blow so violently there had to be an electrical exposure somewhere, and she was sitting in water.  Everyone knew water and electricity didn’t mix.  Should she move, and risk encountering a live cable dangling somewhere in the dark?  Or stay where she was, waiting for the water to seep across the floor, eventually encountering the electricity that would shoot back through the liquid and straight into her?  Both options were terrifying.

She drew her knees up under her chin, trembling, and sat in the darkness.

Above her, the shower sprayed on.

*

“Got it.”  Dave had been on the radio with the Incident Commander.  “Amar, how far out are we?”

“Two minutes, Cap.”

“Alright.  Listen up, lads, we’re on Rescue.  There’s four companies already on site.  IC says fires were minimal and largely under control, and evacuation is the major task.  Casualties seem blessedly light so far – it’s our job to keep them that way.” A murmur of assent met this comment.  “They’re already working through the inside of the building so we’ve been tasked with going in the external opening.”

“What does that mean, Cap?” Amar asked.

“I guess we’ll find out in a few seconds, won’t we?”

They pulled around the last corner and there were strobes and people everywhere.  In addition to the four appliances on scene there were countless cop cars and ambulances.  Joe, their chauffeur, slowed right down and edged through, leaning on his horn for emphasis where needed.  It never ceased to amaze how many people didn’t move when a fire truck was bearing down on them. 

They were waved to a space before the building, on the end of the line of appliances already in position.

“Holy fuck…!”  Michael stepped out of the cab, gazing up at the remnants of the eight-storey apartment block. The first five floors remained intact, virtually unscathed. However, where the sixth and seventh floors once stood, a gaping wound marred the building's side. Above, the top floor projected out precariously, resembling a grim balcony, its edge slightly sagging to partially bridge the void below.

“Snap to, lads!” said Dave, “Mike, on the ladder.  Amar, you’re supporting.  Joe and Miguel, join the crews working inside. Steve…”

Michael turned to jog to the rear of the fire truck, Amar heading back into the cab to deploy the outriggers.  They had been twenty minutes away when the alarm went out, and the road in each direction was a swarm of activity indicative of how much had already been done. 

Around him other emergency vehicles were still pulling up, uniformed men and women everywhere, a web of hoses across the asphalt, a constant stream of red, white, blue and yellow strobes illuminating the scene, the lights reflecting off the wet road.

On the ground, not far from where they had pulled up, Michael saw the smashed remains of the crane.  The counterweight had fallen partly across a pickup truck and a cab – both vehicles now crumpled wrecks – while the frame itself lay across the road and pointed back toward the building site like an accusing finger.  Police vehicles marked the end of the cordoned area, with several officers holding back the crowds that had gathered despite the weather.  As he watched, an ambulance left, edging forward, the crowd reluctantly parting to make way.

From the radio chatter they’d understood the casualties so far had been light – which was nothing short of a miracle.  But the incident had happened at the end of the working day and many folk hadn’t yet arrived back home.  The apartment block had been largely empty. 

It was Michael’s job to get up the building and help ensure that ‘largely empty’ became ‘completely empty’, and any survivors still trapped there didn’t become a statistic.

The rain had lessened, thank god, but what there was still came in horizontally, blown by winds harder than he could remember.  Ladders in the rain and the wind?  No sane person thought that was a good time.

His radio crackled.  “Ready here, Mike,” Amar’s voice came through.

“Mike,” Dave was behind him, looking grim, his voice raised to fight the noise of the wind and rain and the commotion around them.  “Update from the Incident Commander.  Most of the building has been evacuated right now.  Almost everyone who can walk is out.  But we’ve got a problem - we can’t shut the gas off into the building.  Access to the main valve in the basement is buried under rubble.  They’re trying to reach the utility company.”

“How long?” Michael asked.

“At least fifteen minutes.” He scowled, clearly thinking the same thing Michael was: incompetence.  “The risk of explosions is high.  We need to get anyone who is left in there out right fucking now.  The other guys are on evacuation internally, but there’s no guarantee they’ll have access to the damaged apartments.  Get up there in the cherry picker and check no one has been left behind.”

“On it, Captain.”

He clambered up into the aerial tower ladder basket, his breathing gear and fire-resistant Kevlar suit a hindrance, but a familiar weight.  It took but a moment to position himself, clip on his harness and affix the mask of his Self-Contained Breathing Apparatus (SCBA).  Michael thumbed the radio on his shoulder.  “Go, Amar.”

Slowly the ladder extended, rising up like a sea snake from the ocean bed, and Michael gripped the rail of the basket as the wind whipped around him.  It took but a minute to raise the platform up to a gap on the seventh floor.  He swivelled the spotlight mounted on the basket, its strong beam quickly cutting through the gloom.  Against the far wall was a kitchen, or what was left of it, while immediately before him were the smashed remnants of the floor that had been ripped away. 

Again he pressed the button on his radio.  “Going in.”

He unclipped his harness, pushing open the gate to the basket and dropped down into the apartment.  Profound darkness pervaded, and the strobe lights below hindered more than helped, making the shadows appear to flicker and bounce.  Michael pulled out his torch, directing the powerful beam to the gloomy areas not illuminated by the basket’s spotlight.

The beam of his flashlight found the door to the apartment.  Immediately inside the kitchen sat a backpack, balanced precariously on the edge of the hole in the floor.  His torch picked up a bag of groceries sat on one surface, oblivious to the carnage around it, untouched, undamaged.  An incongruous image.

Someone had been here, but they weren’t here now.  Nearly everyone evacuating out through the apartment door would’ve taken the backpack with them… and they hadn’t.  The implication was grim.

“Hello?  Anyone in here?”  His voice was muffled by the mask and he had to shout over the wind. 

No response, but that meant nothing – they could simply not be able to respond.  He moved carefully through the apartment, each step deliberate and slow, checking first for hazards or instability. 

“Search and Rescue.  Make a noise if you can hear me.”  Michael swivelled his torch around, trying to make sense of the apartment layout.  It was a lot harder when every surface was covered in rubble and brick-dust.  His flashlight explored every corner and crevice where someone might cower, and there were no significant piles of debris beneath which a victim could be lying unconscious.  He thumbed his radio, “Nothing here.  Getting back in the bucket.”

He had one hand on the basket when the explosion went off, a mere two rooms along from where he was standing.  The building shook and he was thrown against the ladder, one leg swinging out over the seventy-foot drop, his body twisting around with the momentum of it and crashing back in again.  He grunted at the impact, grasping at the basket rail and hooking his arm around it.  “Ow.”

“Mike! Mike!  Come in!”

His knee smacked painfully against the platform but he was able to scrabble for purchase, even as the material of his jacket slipped against the rail.  He dropped the torch, freeing his hand, the wrist-strap causing it to dangle loose and clang against the basket, but it allowed him to grab a hold and pull himself in on his knees.  It took a moment to steady his breathing, another to fumble for the ring of his harness and hook himself on. 

His radio crackled again, “Mike, come in!”

He thumbed the button, gasping a response, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“Gas explosion.  Be careful up there, bro.”

Yeah, no shit.  “Roger.  This room is clear, Amar.  I’m going to move to the next… away from that explosion.”

“Roger.”

The ladder pulled slowly and smoothly back, the wind whipping around him.  He swivelled it slightly and directed the basket forward again, the entry here wider, the access easier.    Once more Michael’s torch cut through the shadows, illuminating the devastation.  Most of the floor was warped, bent steel cables and smashed rubble tilting precariously toward the ground far below.  A few feet of the twisted remnants of the floor jutted from the wall ahead, offering a natural target.

To his right, the destruction seemed to abruptly end, and beyond the apartment block continued on unblemished.  The angle of the scrape through the room suggested where the counterweight had pulled free and dropped to the ground.  He thumbed his radio.  “Amar, this is the last room on this floor, right?”

“Affirmative.”

There was just one problem.  He thumbed the mic button again.  “Amar, access is within the building.  I say again, basket will need to go in under that overhang.”

His radio crackled a response.  “Er… negative Mike, need to confirm with Dave before you take the basket within the building.”

“We don’t have time here, Amar.  We could get an explosion at any moment.  We need to get people out.  Beg forgiveness don’t ask for permission – I’m going in.”

There was a delay, then: “Acknowledged, you stubborn bastard.”

He aimed the basket towards the protruding floor.  If this was the same apartment as the room he’d just checked, then he knew it had been recently occupied.  It was difficult to be sure where one apartment ended and the next began when all the walls had been stripped away, but this made sense.  The previous rooms had been kitchen and (probably) living area, which would make this one the bedroom.  The bed was clearly gone, the floor on which it sat a twisted, sloping mess beneath his platform.  A large steel girder had smashed through the door and into the room beyond.  Second bedroom, perhaps?  Walk-in closet?  It was the only option left; there wasn’t enough floor out here to support a place for anyone to hide in.

If whomever had come home wasn’t in there, then… well, he’d know soon enough.

At least the gaping hole made it easy to get the platform into position.  He found he could manoeuvre it almost all the way in, the floor below now a simple step down.  The wind cut considerably as soon as the basket was inside the building, which was an added benefit.

He reached up to his radio.  “Going in.”

“Hello?” The voice was small, he almost didn’t hear it, but it came again, louder.  “Hello!  Hello?!” 

Thank fuck for that, they were alive – or she was alive; the voice was definitely feminine.

“I hear you!” he called out.  The voice came from behind the door through which the steel girder had fallen, partially blocking the doorway.  Michael took a moment to thumb his radio.  “Found one survivor, stand by,” then he called out, “I’m coming in!”

“No!”

No?

“I’m search and rescue, I’m here to help you.”

“You… you can’t come in,” she sounded desperate, scared, but her refusal was bewildering.  Why didn’t she want his help?

Michael felt his brow furrow in confusion.  “Lady, I’m here to get you out.  Are you injured?”

“No…”  Scared, unsure.

“Can you come to me?”

“No!”  It was odd, this time her response carried a desperate edge.

“Can you explain the issue?”

“I’m… I’m… There’s a loose electric cable around here somewhere.  The lights blew.  There’s water everywhere.  I don’t want you to get electrocuted.”

“Roger that, lady.  Stand by.”  Michael swivelled the torch to the ceiling, looking for loose wires or cables.  Nothing.  He turned the light to the walls, the floors, still unable to see a likely suspect.  Thumbed his radio.  “Amar?  Victim thinks there’s a live cable up here.  Where are we with the power?”

“It’s out, Michael.  You’re okay to proceed.”

“Thanks.” His hand dropped from his radio as he called out to her again.  “Power’s off, lady, you can come out.”

A long pause before she called out again.  “Can you… can you see my wardrobe in the bedroom?  Against the wall?”

Michael blinked in surprise.  “No wardrobe out here, lady.  No wall, either.”  He’d dealt with some odd folk in his time, but that was one of the weirdest questions… then it hit him.  A side door off the bedroom.  “Are you in the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Are you… dressed?”

There was another long pause and the answer, when it came, was reluctant.  “…No.”  

Okay then.  “We still have to get you out, lady.”

“Yes… but… can you please get me some clothes?  From the hamper?  It’s by the door.  Or… the sheet from my bed?”

Michael swung his torch over to check, but he already knew the answer.  “Lady… I’m sorry but there’s no hamper.  There’s no bed, come to that.  Don’t you have a towel?”

“No… well, yes… but it’s lying under the girder.  And I can’t… fucking get it out!” her desperation and frustration obvious.

Figures, he thought.  “Okay.  Well, I…”

Another explosion, and the building trembled.  He heard the woman scream, and the floor shook so hard he lost his balance, dropping to one knee.  It took several seconds for the tremors to stop.

“Come in, Mike, come in.”

“We’re good Amar, but fuck me that was close.  Why isn’t the gas off?”  Behind the door he could hear the girl sobbing in terror.  “It’s going to be alright, lady!  I’ll be right with you!”

“No update,” the disgust came through clearly.  “Get a move on, Mike.”

“Roger, stand by.”  He took a step toward the door, the light from his torch showing the bathroom beyond, one wall partially collapsed.  “Lady, we’ve got to get you out of here now.”  No response, only sobs.  He took a different tack.  “Can you smell gas?”

She was quiet for a moment, her sobbing stopping.  “No.  Is there a leak?  Is that what’s causing the explosions?  I… I can’t smell anything.  Can you?”

“No.  I have a mask.”

“That explains why your voice sounds strange.”

“Yeah.  Sorry about that.”

*

“Yeah.  Sorry about that,” he replied, his tone stoic.  “I’m going to come in, okay?”

“No,” Vicki replied, huddling in the corner of the shower.  The water was still on, though both the flow and the temperature had lessened.  Yet, it was still lukewarm, and that was better than nothing.

“We’re out of time, Lady.  I’m coming in whether you want me to or not.  It’s time to go, okay?”

Of all the ways to be rescued.  “Don’t you… don’t you have a blanket or something?”

There was a pause before he replied.  “Sorry, no.  It’s not equipment for this role.”

She was out of options.  He was at the doorway, climbing over the girder, the torch illuminating the room, and then he was in with her.

“Well, hello there,” his voice seemed softer, kinder, when he wasn’t yelling at her over the wind and the rain.  It was a lot quieter in here, and he’d dropped his voice accordingly.

“Um… hi.”  She couldn’t see him at all; just a dark silhouette against the night outside.  She realised the beam of light directed at the door was static, mounted on whatever apparatus had brought him here.  But he had a torch in one hand, and it was right in her face, dazzling her.  And revealing her complete, humiliating, nakedness.  As if he realised, he turned the torch away, angling the beam to the white tiles of her bathroom wall.  He then placed it carefully on the floor, freeing his hands.  That was intelligent of him, and thoughtful too.  The light reflected around the room, just enough for them to see by.

Without the light in her eyes she was able to perceive more of him, though he was a shapeless figure in all his gear.  A large, looming figure.  And she, a small, nude, vulnerable girl huddled in a corner.

He took a step closer.  “Is that water hot?”

“Um… it was.  It isn’t now.  I left it running because… it’s still lukewarm.  I thought I would get too cold if I turned it off.”

“That was smart.  Real smart.” 

And lucky, she thought.  The plumbing ran internally, so there was no reason for the pipes in her walls to be damaged, yet she could well imagine a leak anywhere would’ve drained the tanks rapidly.  She knew she’d been fortunate – though that was relative – how fortunate was it to have your apartment destroyed in some freak accident?  But at least she was alive, and the warm water had significantly diminished the risk of hypothermia.  She estimated it had barely been twenty minutes since the incident, but exposed to the elements?  Wet and naked?  She could be in a far worse state.

Yeah, worse than being completely naked before a stranger, with a crowd of people gathered below to witness it all… and the only way out… down there.  She shuddered.

“Have you been shivering?” he asked, clearly double-checking - or maybe he’d seen her shudder.

It was difficult to be sure.  “No… I… I don’t think so.  Trembling, I think… not shivering.” She’d done a lot of trembling.  “I’m a bit cold, but it’s not unbearable.”

“I’m impressed, lady.  That shows a level of perception and composure that is rare in an emergency situation.”  His voice sounded kind and the compliment was nice, but she couldn’t help but think he was just trying to reassure and distract her.  But of course, that was exactly his goal.  “Shall we get you out of here now?”

“I guess…”  How was this going to work?  She could think of no way of keeping her modesty and yet still be rescued.  What are the odds he’d just leave me here?  It would be a lot simpler.

Another pace closer.  “Can you stand?”

She nodded, but perhaps he couldn’t see in the poor light.  “Yes.” 

There was an expectant pause, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.  It was too embarrassing, too humiliating, and she’d been too scared for too long. 

“Lady, can you stand up please?  We need to go now.”  He was still speaking gently, almost condescendingly, and it was beginning to irritate her.  She didn’t need to be babied, she just needed to not be trapped, naked, in her own apartment.

And maybe she was being irrational.  Maybe it was a simple matter to stand up, naked, and allow this  man she didn’t know to look upon her, naked, escort her from her room, naked, to descend into the crowds of people who no doubt awaited her below, all of whom would see her naked.  But it didn’t feel simple.  “I’m… I’m naked.”

“I did notice that.”  There was sympathy in his voice.  Was he pitying her?

Her reply was both acerbic and sardonic.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Fireman, I forgot to check for impending doom before I took my shower.”

He laughed, a genuine sound even with the mask distorting it.  “That’s great, lady.  That kind of spirit is why you’re still alive, why you’re going to make it out of here just fine.  I’ll keep you safe, lady.”

“Vicki,” she muttered.  It was tough to be a ‘lady’ huddled, trembling, in the corner of her shower.

“Vicki,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.  “Nice to meet you.  I’m Michael.”

“Yeah.  Nice to meet you too, Michael.”  He actually seemed like a really nice guy.  Her rescuer.  Why did they have to meet like this?  Why couldn’t they have just got a coffee?

He took another step forward, and now he was mere feet away, the light from his torch reflecting off her white tiles, providing an ambient glow about them.  She could see his uniform, the amount of gear he was carrying, even his mask beneath his helmet.  He looked intimidating.

*

She seemed to pull back further as Michael took another step toward her, pressing against the corner of her shower.  Was he frightening her somehow?  Then it dawned on him… she was feeling understandably vulnerable and scared, and there was no humanity in his appearance with his mask on and his helmet covering much of his face.

He reached up and pulled off his mask, letting it drop on the strap around his chest, and swept his helmet off too.  Dave is going to kill me for this.  On a whim, he bowed low, sweeping his helmet across in a curve, as though he was a courtly gentleman meeting a lady for the first time.  But it felt right, like something she needed to see. “Firefighter Michael Antonio, at your service, ma’am.  Here to escort you to safety, away from this dragon’s cave before the evil beast returns.”  Cue the gas explosion for ironic timing, he thought, and mentally crossed his fingers.

She simply stared at him, her eyes wide in the reflected light of his torch, and he couldn’t help but feel slightly silly.  He’d made a fool of himself to try to reach her, and even that hadn’t worked.

Then she smiled, and he was struck with how genuine it was, how pretty it made her, even huddled, scared, in a corner.  No, she’s not just ‘pretty’, she’s beautiful… she’s gorgeous.  And he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before.

“Most gracious of you, Sir Knight,” she said, but her smile faded as quickly as it came.  “Why did I have to be naked, Michael?  Why couldn’t I just be fully clothed and… and have a broken leg or something?  Like most people?”  At least she was engaging with him now.  His ploy had worked.

“I’d prefer you uninjured, milady,” and he used the word deliberately, to extend the Knight-and-damsel metaphor, while being struck by how appropriate it was.  A Knight in shining… Kevlar.  His answer had been heartfelt.  He didn’t want to imagine this attractive, vulnerable girl lying injured, slowly bleeding out.  He shook his head to clear the image.  A thought occurred.  “Where’s the towel you said you had?”

She gestured with her chin, her arms remaining wrapped protectively around her nudity.  “Under that.  It smashed my radiator.”

Michael turned and looked, picking up the torch and swinging it around.  A large, dark green bath towel lay pinned to the floor by the corner of the steel girder.  “Yeah… that’s not coming out, is it?”

“No,” she replied, bitterly, “It’s not.”

He reached over anyway and gave it an experimental tug.  It was as trapped as it looked.

“Was there nothing in my bedroom?” 

He turned back to face her, setting the torch down to again point at the wall.  “I’m sorry to say… no,” he grimaced.  “You don’t have a bedroom anymore.”

“Fuck!” The vehemence was justified, all things considered.

His radio crackled. “Mike, status update?”

He thumbed the mic button.  “With victim.  Stand by, please.”  He released the button and met her eyes.  “It really is time to go, but…”  He pushed himself to his feet and began to pull off his gloves.  She watched him, her eyes wide in the light.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking my gear off,” he said, pulling the mask over his head and working the buckles of his SCBA straps, unclipping the belt that held not only the SCBA tank, but the carabiner for his harness.  He knew it was an inexcusable risk.  Dave really is going to kill me.

“Why?”

“To give you my jacket, milady.”  He lowered the tank to the floor with a dull thunk.

“But… your gear.  Won’t you need it?” 

“Not between here and the ground.”  Hopefully.

“Won’t you… won’t you get in trouble for abandoning it?”  Lady, you have no idea.  Dave was going to be seriously pissed.  He might even dock it from his wages – after he finished reaming him a new one for being a soft touch.  But it was a surprise she’d even asked, that despite her vulnerability she was thinking of him over herself.

“It’ll be fine.”

Her chin came up.  “That wasn’t very convincing, Sir Knight.”

He chuckled.  “Don’t worry about it.”  He began to unzip his jacket.

“No, wait…”

His fingers paused as he looked at her, puzzled.

She seemed to take a steadying breath, then to his surprise she lowered her arms, pushed herself to one knee, and stood.

He noticed her breasts first, but only because they caught the light.  Or so he told himself.  Yet, his eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to them: their perfect shape, her nipples erect, even as the water continued to fall, bouncing off them.  His eyes travelled down despite himself, over her smooth belly, her thighs, the triangle of her womanhood hinted at but hidden in shadow. 

Michael hadn’t intended to stare, to run his gaze so blatantly over her, but the way she had risen – the abrupt decision to reveal her nakedness – it had caught him by surprise.  He’d reacted not with his training, but as a man presented with the vision of a beautiful woman.  Fuck, she’s gorgeous...  She wasn’t even making an attempt to cover herself – a reflection on the futility of such an action, perhaps – and it was an effort to lift his eyes to her face.

“I can’t have my rescuer inconvenience himself for me.” She sounded resigned.  “Put your gear back on, please, Sir Knight.”

His fingers resumed, pulling down the zip of his jacket.  “I appreciate the sentiment, milady, but…” he slipped the coat from his shoulders, “it is a little cold outside the dragon’s cave.”

She seemed to sway slightly in response to his words, and her determined stance became a more hunched posture.  “Yes… yes, I’d noticed.”  She reached back and turned off the water, and her body angled in the light as she did so, revealing more of her to his eyes.  “The water is cold now, too.” The sound of her voice distracted him, and he realised he’d been staring at her.  He cleared his throat, looking away.  

“Michael, I…” her voice was suddenly a whisper and he glanced back to see her begin to waver.  He exclaimed, dropping his jacket to the floor and jumping forward to catch her even as she crumpled, and she fell into his arms as her legs gave way.  He dropped to one knee, lowering her carefully as he did so.  He was kneeling in water but he hardly noticed; his hands were on her body, her skin beneath his palms, and in that moment the feel of her stole all his attention.

She’d fainted, he realised, and kicked himself for not predicting that.  Ages sitting on the floor, cold, scared, stressed – and then standing abruptly.  Reduced blood flow to the brain, exacerbated by the circumstances. 

Her skin was cool to the touch, and wet from the shower too.  That wasn’t helping, and it would only get worse as they went outside.  He needed to get the excess water off her, but had nothing with which to help.  He slid one hand down each arm as he held her with his other, brushing what he could off her skin.  As he did so, she came round.

“I’m sorry,” her voice was so quiet he had to lean down to hear her.  “I’m not usually so pathetic.”

“Milady, you merely fainted.  It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  Quite understandable – even expected.  It’s my fault for not warning you when you stood.  I was…”

“…Distracted?” she smiled up at him, even as she lay in his arms, and he could only shake his head in admiration.  Who could show so much spirit in such a situation?  He wasn’t sure he would, were the situations reversed.  She was formidable. She was showing remarkable character strength in the face of adversity, and, given the extreme circumstances, it was no detriment to her that she had fainted.  That was mere physiology. 

“Very distracted, milady,” he answered honestly, then was struck by how inappropriate the comment was. “I... er… I’m very sorry for… er… looking,” he trailed off weakly.

“I am naked, Sir Knight,” she pointed out, her voice sounding stronger with each passing second.  “I think I would’ve been offended if you hadn’t.  Surely the damsel wishes her Knight to find her attractive?”

“I do,” he admitted.  “You’re beautiful.”

*

“You’re beautiful.”

Vicki closed her eyes and smiled.  “Well, that’s alright then.”  She knew, objectively, that she was attractive.  But for some reason it was important that he found her so.  Her rescuer.  Her Knight. 

The whole situation was so surreal it was impossible to keep perspective.  He’d only been in here – what – two minutes perhaps?  And he’d seen her naked and now she was in his arms.  That beat her personal best with any man prior by… well, days.

She was in his arms, naked… the thought seemed difficult to accept, despite its evidence.  He’d seen all of her… before I stupidly fainted.  Yet she wouldn’t have been in his arms if she hadn’t fainted, and it was… nice.  She became aware that he was stroking her arms with his hands.  That was nice too.  Comforting.

Her eyes flicked open.  Comforting?  Why was she responding to him like this?  She hardly knew him.  She didn’t know him.  And yet… maybe it was the intensity of the situation, the life-and-death nature of it, the fear she’d felt for so long, huddled in the corner of her shower, expecting the floor to give way… or the roof to crumble down… or the water to trickle toward a live cable somewhere. 

Then she was trembling violently in his arms as the adrenaline coursed once more through her body.

“Easy now, easy…” His voice was calm, but it made no difference.  She couldn’t stop trembling.  “Easy, milady.”

And he wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest.

She pressed against him, clutching at him, feeling the solid warmth of his body beneath the soft clothing he wore under his coat.  The tears came and she sobbed into the crook of his neck, burying her face against him. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe, it’s okay.”  He was stroking her hair, holding her against him, his voice calm and gentle and reassuring.  It helped, but it wasn’t enough.

She wrapped an arm tightly around his neck and clung to him, and it was a long moment before her trembling slowed, before she could regain control over her sobbing.  She became aware of his hands on the skin of her back, rubbing gently as he held her to him.  He hadn’t protested, hadn’t pushed her away.  He’d given her what she needed without complaint. 

Vicki pulled back slightly to look up at him, his handsome face poorly illuminated by the reflected light, much of it in shadow.  But he is handsome, she decided.  Very much so.  Okay, so maybe there was a bias of circumstance in that appraisal – but he was her Knight, and she was allowed to find him handsome.

Her arm was still around his neck, her face angled up toward his, her breasts pushed against his chest.  He was looking down at her, his eyes so very close, and it seemed natural to do what she did.  She pulled him down to her, opening her mouth to him, and kissed him.

She’d kissed him and for a moment he tensed beneath her touch, her lips, but then his mouth opened to her and he was kissing her too.  It was just a few seconds; the feel of his lips against hers, their tongues dancing… then he was pulling back, gently, considerately.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” but his eyes searched her face even as he apologised. 

“You didn’t; I did,” she whispered to him.  “I should be the one to apologise.” She lowered her eyes in embarrassment.  “I’m sorry.”  He was tense against her.  She’d clearly made him uncomfortable, and it was all her fault.  What a way to repay her saviour.  “You’re married, aren’t you?”  Of course he would be.  All the best ones were.  Oh… what a fool she was! 

“No, actually…” she was aware of his gaze still upon her face, his expression intense.  “But… I shouldn’t have encouraged you.  You’re probably in shock.  My training… I… that was irresponsible of me.”

He was so awkward, so uncertain all of a sudden.  And just from one kiss.  She didn’t like to see him like this, and she had caused it.  Yet, too, it was endearing, and suddenly she saw the ridiculousness of it all.  She laughed, a mirthless, self-loathing sound.

“What’s so funny?” he asked slowly, taken aback but not offended.

“Oh… everything and nothing!” And it was all so absurd she laughed again, hearing the slightly hysterical note.  “This whole freakish accident… being trapped, completely naked… being rescued by my handsome Knight… and now,” her tone turned bitter, “he’s too gallant to kiss me because I’m a ‘vulnerable civilian’ and his training says he’d be taking advantage!”

*

“…my handsome Knight…” and though he’d heard all she’d said, it was that upon which he focused.

Michael stared at her for a long moment, then he was lowering his lips, drawing her more tightly into his arms, the delicious feel of her soft breasts pushed against his body, and his mouth was on hers once more.  He kissed dominantly, pushing his tongue into her mouth, and she opened to him, whimpering in response.  Her other arm snaked up around his neck and she pulled herself into a sitting position even as she kissed him in return.  He felt her fingers push into his thick hair, holding him against her.  

His hands were caressing the smooth skin of her back and she felt cool beneath his touch, but not so much as to concern him.  Yes, he needed to get her safe and warm, but… they had a moment to finish their kiss. 

Somehow she wriggled even closer to him, pressing herself firmly against him, and their tongues battled as if with desperate need from both of them.  As they kissed he let one hand push down her back, spreading over the top of her bare ass.  She whimpered, pressing against him, and…

His radio crackled. “Mike, status update. What the hell is going on up there?”

He broke the kiss reluctantly, freeing one hand from her to reach for his radio.  His other hand slid down her back, replacing the first at the curve of her bottom, holding her to him with the full length of his arm.

His thumb was on the mic button.  “I’m coming down, one survivor.”  He dropped the button and whispered to her, “You were alone in here, right?”

“Yes.”

He nodded, pushing the button again.  “She’s uninjured but cold and…” he glanced at her, his expression in shadow, “…traumatised.  Have EMS ready.”

“Acknowledged.”

***

Author's note:

Thank you for choosing to read my story. :)

This story has been broken into three parts to comply with Lush's 10k word limit - two more parts to come.

While I'll get them out as fast as the publishing queue will allow, some positive comments would go a long way to letting me know y'all want to read on ;)