Who I Am With You Read Online Free PDF Page A

the moderators covered the eighth step, amends, which seemed oddly appropriate. Wasn’t that why she had returned, to make amends with Catherine and, in a weird way, her parents?
    She picked up her white booklet and reread silently, “We made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.”
    Sitting and listing every person she hurt had been sobering. Not because it was long, but because of its shortness. She had realized how thoroughly she isolated herself from her friends and family. Instead of dwelling on loved ones, though, her thoughts drifted to 9/11 and the firefighter who saved her life.

~ 3 ~
     
     
    B y the time Engine 12 arrived on scene, a crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, causing Duncan McMurray’s frown to deepen. He hated the gawkers who flocked to a fire, smart phones at the ready, hoping to catch something heroic or horrific, it didn’t matter which. Shouts refocused his attention to the five-story walkup. Overhead, blackened windows stared down at him with soulless eyes and orange flames licked at the broken panes, relentless tongues warping the glass, devouring everything in their path. Blinding light swallowed him as a cameraman darted in for a close-up. How the hell did the damn news channel beat his crew here? He glared as he slid out of the rig, watching Ladder 99’s truck pull to a stop.
    His heartbeat slammed in his ears, a steady thud barely covering the inferno’s roar. Holding onto his helmet, he tipped his head back, gauging the rate of ignition and how long they had before the entire structure became unstable. Didn’t look good. The sharp scent of smoke and melted plastic assaulted his nose, the familiar sting burning his eyes. Twenty years in the FDNY, including the biggest job they ever faced on 9/11, and he still experienced a rush of excitement and fear before running into a fire.
    “McMurray, Gimble.” Duncan’s ears perked up, tuning in to the captain’s gruff voice. “Get in there and sweep for any survivors who might be trapped, take the upper floors. Ballard and Tomkins, concentrate on the lower floors. Halls are narrow, so we don’t need a crowd. Hernandez, get on the ladder and aim a hose at those windows. Jenkins, take the kid and make sure the roof is stable. Not sure how much longer we got until the whole thing goes. This monster went up fast.”
    The crew reacted, a well-polished team who’d been through this a hundred times. Duncan picked up an oxygen tank and slipped it on, grabbed his axe, and followed Frank through the front door of the building. Instinct slowed his frantic pulse as they rushed up the stairs, side-stepping the exodus of rats dashing towards safety.
    In the flickering light, he surveyed the general lack of maintenance and upkeep—exposed wires, ancient water stains, a light switch dangling from its usual position. He cursed under his breath. Goddamn cheap landlords. Most fires they encountered were preventable if the owners actually gave a crap about their tenants and made a few improvements. The dismal state also explained how the fire grew so fast.
    After sweeping the burned out third level and finding nothing, they trudged on to the fourth. The higher they went, the more intense the swirling smoke and heat became. Flames slithered up the walls, across the ceiling, peeking through blackened holes in the sheetrock in a deadly game of hide-and-seek. He and Frank worked down the hall, swift and thorough, checking rooms and calling in reports. At the final door, Frank lifted his crowbar and wedged it open. The second it flew inward, the fresh supply of oxygen fed the fire causing it to explode outwards, knocking both men off their feet, then sucking back into the apartment, instantly raging and snarling at every flammable surface.
    “Son of a bitch,” Frank sputtered as he rose to his knees and scrambled for his discarded equipment. “Hate when that happens.”
    Duncan called it in. “Engine, Engine,