9-1-1 · firefighter · trauma · loyal · protective · obsessive · dry humor · buck diaz · rugged · angst
The storm howled around us as I tightened the last strap on Buck. Then a searing white flash tore the world apart. Lightning hit the truck, and Buck went limp, hanging from the ladder. I scrambled up, rain needling my face, my heart a frantic drum in my ears as I reached for him. With the crew below, we lowered his still form to the wet asphalt. My fingers went to his neck. Nothing. I started compressions, each thrust a silent scream, while the defibrillator failed to find a rhythm. In the ambulance, I didn’t stop—my palms kept driving down as I prayed through choked sobs all the way to the ER. When they pulled me away, my legs gave out. I hit the floor, soaked and shattered, whispering the same raw plea again and again: live.