The acrid smoke stung at his eyes and ached at his lungs as he slowly regained consciousness. Johnny Gage felt a heavy weight pressing against his chest and arms. Looking down through his cracked, smudged face mask he could see the outline of a large, burnt wooden beam laying across his body. Unable to call out and unable to reach his H.T., Johnny was trapped and alone in the hallway of the crumbling old hotel.

Mustering as much strength as he had left, Johnny slowly turned to his side and used his forearms to push the smoldering wooden beam off his chest and onto the floor beside him. Without the weight crushing his chest Johnny was able to take in a full, much needed breath of fresh air from his steadily emptying air tank.

Pushing himself upright, he sat in a kneeling position in the hallway. Johnny looked around for any sign of his partner but he was alone.

Where he last saw Roy DeSoto standing was now a large hole in the center of the warped floor.

His ears were ringing and his head was throbbing. Captain Hank Stanley felt someone putting their hand on his shoulder and he could hear a muffled voice calling his name. He opened one eye and his blurry vision slowly focused on the face of Chief McConike.

"Hank? Are you alright?!" Chief McConike repeated to the downed man.

"Fine." Hank lied as he tried to get to his feet, his world still spinning. "I'm okay."

"Easy Hank, don't move." McConike insisted. "That blast knocked you back a good five feet and sent your helmet even further!"

It was then Hank realized how much his head actually hurt. He pressed the palm of his hand to the back of his head and felt that his dark hair was matted with blood. As he retracted his hand McConike noticed the blood and waved over another firefighter; Captain Stone. "We need a medic here, where's the nearest squad?"

"Squad 51 was inside the hotel when it exploded, and Brice and Bellingham are treating a smoke inhalation victim on the other side."

Hank's eyes widened. He remembered everything now. The call, the fire, the explosion... His men were all inside the building when the main gas line ruptured. He looked up at the charred, smoldering, smoke engulfed structure that was once a grand hotel. Instinctively he unhooked the H.T. from his belt and called for an update. "Station 51, Squad 51; I need an update."

Silence.

"I repeat; Station 51, Squad 51; I need an update on your location."

The radio remained silent.

"Damn it! I need to get in there."

"No you don't." McConike prevented Hank from standing up. "You're injured, let Station 8 find your men. Keep trying on the H.T., maybe the explosion is causing some kind of interference."

Hank knew that McConike was pandering to him, trying to keep him from thinking the worst, but it wasn't enough. His head hurt too much for him to move and the last thing he wanted was to collapse inside the building while his own men were already M.I.A.

Reluctantly he submitted to his Chief's order and continued to try and raise someone, anyone, on the H.T.

"Station 51, Squad 51; do you read?"

A sharp pain in his ankle was all Chet Kelley needed to feel to know that it was broken. He sat upright, pulling himself out from the burnt plaster, drywall and glass shards that littered the room he had been clearing when the explosion occurred. The blast must've sent him flying and he landed on his leg wrong.

"M-Marco?" Chet coughed as he called for his partner. "Marco? Can you hear me?"

On the other side of the room Marco Lopez was laying unconscious under a larger portion of the collapsed ceiling. He didn't hear Chet calling his name and he didn't feel the flames encroaching ever closer to his downed form.

"Marco? Where are you?" Chet managed to pull himself up and to his feet. He took off his mask and used the sleeve of his turnout to wipe away the smoky film that was obstructing his sight. It was then he caught sight of a figure laying under some debris on the other side of the room.

"Marco!"

Chet hobbled over to his downed colleague and quickly beat out the flames with his gloved hands before they could ignite Marco's clothing. He pushed away large chunks of the debris until he could see Marco's bloody face.

"Marco...?" He ungloved one hand and pressed it against Marco's neck. He found the pulse. "C'mon man! We need to get out of here!"

Mike Stoker, who had been manning the hose on the first floor of the hotel, coughed heavily as he pushed open the broken doors that lead out of the stairwell. The explosion came from the basement and up through the elevator shafts. The force of the explosion was enough to knock Mike through the doors and into the stairwell.

Mike scanned the lobby carefully, looking for any sign of victims or his crew, but found he was alone. A small trickle of blood was rolling down his face from his brow and could taste the blood on his lips. His lower back ached from landing on the hard stairs, but other than his bumps and bruises he was miraculously uninjured.

He grabbed his H.T. and tried to make contact with the outside world, but the H.T. had been badly damaged from the impact of his landing. Following the hose on the floor, Mike located the doors leading outside of the hotel and propped the large doors wide open.

Mike knew he wasn't the only one who was shaken by the blast, and he wasn't about to the leave the hotel alone.

...to be continued...