“Man, you’re gonna drink yourself into an ulcer with that sludge,” he teased, pointing at my cup.

“It’s caffeine. It works. Don’t ask for miracles,” I shot back, grinning.

Joe sat down, flipping through a magazine. Outside, the streets were quiet, the kind of eerie calm that keeps firefighters on edge. That’s when we heard a faint cry, barely audible over the wind.

Joe raised an eyebrow. “You hear that?”

“Yeah,” I said, already on my feet.

We stepped out into the cold, the wind biting through our jackets. The sound was coming from near the station’s front door. Joe spotted a basket tucked in the shadows.

“No way,” he muttered, rushing ahead.

Inside