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I looked at Joel, held up my hand with five fingers, shouting, "We got maybe five minutes to find him before the roof collapses, and we are knocking on heaven's door." Joel nodded back, then followed Firefighter Halsey into the inferno. I crawled into the black abyss behind Joel, pausing for a second, recalling Psalm 23:4, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil"--not being able to remember the rest of the psalm. The young fire lieutenant and I started our primary search in what we thought was the living room but was too thick with smoke to be sure. We were desperately searching for the five-year-old when Halsey opened up the task force tip nozzle, attacking the raging fire. The inside of the blazing dwelling became unbearable; I could feel the hot steam leaking through every crevice of my protective gear. It felt like my skin was boiling off. From my perspective, things were getting beyond sporty. I imagined the roof collapsing in on us and the three flag-draped coffins that would be placed in the hose beds of fire station 3's fire apparatus as they made their way to the cemetery. I could feel the justifiable fight-or-flight adrenaline dump getting ready to push through my veins. Earlier in my career, I had survived a backdraft, but a roof collapse with subsequent flashover would crush, then burn, the three of us alive, with no hope of rescue. I wondered, If I did survive, would they let my infant daughter visit me in the burn center?
