Chapter 1

The alarm shrieked, a familiar sound that usually shot adrenaline through my veins. Today, it just felt like a headache. Station 51 was a symphony of controlled chaos, boots hitting the floor, gear being thrown on. It was our life.

"Warehouse fire, south side," Captain Duncan yelled over the noise, his voice a gravelly constant in our world. "Reports of a civilian trapped on the second floor."

As we piled onto the engine, I caught my fiancé Anthony' s eye. He gave me a quick, confident nod. We were a team, inside and outside the firehouse. He was my rock.

Then I saw her. Sabrina Chavez, the new probie, was standing frozen by the truck, her face a mask of chalky white.

"Captain," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "We can't go in. The roof... I see it. It's going to collapse."

Duncan didn't even turn around. "Get on the truck, probie. We don't have time for bad feelings."

Sabrina's eyes, wide and pleading, found mine. I just gave her a stern look. We were firefighters. We went in. That was the job.

The warehouse was a furnace, a roaring beast of smoke and heat. We followed the hose line in, the water hissing as it hit the flames. The plan was simple: find the victim, get out.

"Second floor, northeast corner!" Duncan' s voice crackled over the radio.

But Sabrina's voice, small and terrified, followed right after. "No, Captain! The roof there is the weakest point! It's going to come down!"

Duncan hesitated for a split second. A second that could cost a life.

"Molly, you hear that?" he asked.

"I hear a probie who's scared," I shot back, my voice muffled by my mask. "We're going in."

Anthony grabbed my arm. "Molly, maybe we should listen. Just for a second. Let's reassess."

"There's no time, Anthony," I snapped, pulling my arm away. "We have a victim."

We found the man unconscious, half-buried under fallen debris. It was a tough extraction, but we got him. On the way out, a loud groan echoed through the building, a sound like a dying giant.

"It's coming down!" someone screamed.

A massive section of the roof, exactly where Sabrina had pointed, collapsed in a shower of sparks and steel. We were clear, but just barely. Another team wasn't so lucky. A senior firefighter, a guy named Miller, was caught by the edge of the collapse, his leg crushed.

Back at the station, the mood was tense. Miller was on his way to the hospital, and the crew looked at Sabrina differently now. Not with respect, but with a kind of superstitious fear. They kept their distance, whispering. I ignored them, focusing on cleaning my gear. It was a coincidence. A lucky guess.

That weekend was the station's annual charity baseball game. We were all supposed to take a chartered bus. As we were about to leave, Sabrina had a full-blown panic attack.

"The bus," she gasped, clutching her chest. "Something's wrong with the bus. I feel it. A terrible dread."

The crew froze. They looked at each other, then at Duncan.

Anthony stepped forward, putting a comforting arm around her. "Hey, it's okay. We can just take the old reserve engine. It'll be a little cramped, but it's better to be safe, right?"

Duncan, against his better judgment, agreed. He didn't want a hysterical probie on his hands.

So we all piled into the stuffy, ancient reserve engine. Ten minutes into the drive, the radio dispatcher's voice cut through the static.

"All units, be advised. Major multi-car pile-up on the expressway. A chartered bus has suffered catastrophic brake failure..."

The dispatcher read out the name of the bus company. Our bus company. The bus we were supposed to be on.

Silence fell over the engine. Everyone, including Captain Duncan, turned to stare at Sabrina Chavez. She was just sitting there, crying softly into her hands.

Everyone believed her now. Everyone except me.