Bøger af Stephen Dudeney

Dave and I crept up the stairs, the floor had burned through in places as had the floor above, the roof was gone so there was a bit of dull light. The floor was covered in rubble; tiles from the roof, burnt timber, cork and all sorts. Dave took the nozzle and we pushed forward along the floor. The smoke was tolerable, the heat was a different matter. As I breathed in it was searing my lungs, a bit like trying to breathe in over a boiling kettle, I was lying on the floor in a puddle of steaming water trying to find some cooler air. As Dave opened the nozzle we were engulfed in steam as the water cooled the superheated atmosphere above us. I buried my head a little lower and held on for dear life as Dave worked the jet around the large hallway, extinguishing the burning contents. We pushed further and tried making our way into a room on the right. I was suffering a bit now, and as if reading my mind, Dave pulled back and I pushed up to the nozzle. I opened it and aimed in the direction of the fire. I got some relief by breathing in the cool clean air that was being forced out of the nozzle with the water. Soon we had pushed a good way forward but we were taking a real beating. I could feel my skin scalding as the wet fire tunic steamed in the heat