The fire had already swallowed most of the second floor by the time we got the call. A warehouse—empty, supposedly. Just a leftover shell filled with forgotten boxes and bad insulation.
Turned out, not everything inside was forgotten.
He was the first one through the smoke. Duffield—helmet #31, the guy with the mustache who never says much but always shows up. A minute passed. Then three. Just when the chief was about to call him back, he emerged—coughing, covered in soot…
…and holding the tiniest, shivering kitten under his jacket.