The Fighting 17th

Chapter 1

The dream was back. The dream that wasn't really a dream. It was more of a replay of vivid memories that had come to him in his sleep each night for months after it had happened all those years ago.

A screaming siren. The constant beeping of the heart monitor. The paramedics' chatter as they worked in vain to save their patient. The acrid odor of stale sweat and smoke. The blood.

"Who's your brother, Brian?"

"You are, Stephen."

Seconds later, Brian McCaffrey's big brother would die in front of him, laying on a gurney in a racing ambulance.

Brian sat up in bed and took a deep breath. He was having the dream again and he knew exactly why.

XXXXXX

"Martha. Martha, wake up, dear!" Irving Green whispered to his wife.

"What is it?" his wife yawned as she lay beside him.

"I just heard a crash downstairs," he flipped on the lamp beside their bed. "I think someone's breaking in."

Martha slipped on her glasses as she sat up.

"I'll call the police," she whispered.

"Is that old baseball bat still in the closet?"

"No! Don't you go down there, Irving!"

The elderly man tossed back the covers, stepped into his slippers and cautiously made his way across the bedroom floor.

After he retrieved the old Louisville Slugger from the closet he cracked open the door.

As he peered into the hall, he saw an orange glow at the bottom of the stairs.

He dropped the bat.

"Oh God, no..."

XXXXXX

Brian sat on the edge of the bed. He wasn't going back to sleep any time soon. He took the picture frame from the nightstand and stared at it in the moonlight. It was a photograph of his brother in his Lieutenant's uniform, flashing that broad smile he had.

His wife Jennifer reached out and lightly touched his shoulder as she lay behind him.

"You're having the dream again, aren't you?"

"Go back to sleep, Jen," he whispered. "It's late."

"Brian," she rubbed his back. "talk to me."

He returned the picture frame to the nightstand and sank back into bed. She slipped an arm over him and rested her head on his chest.

"I miss him so much, Jen," he said quietly. "I miss him so damned much."

XXXXXX

Chief Wallace Boden sat in his office inside Station 51 of the Chicago Fire Department.

The lamp on his desk provided the only light in an otherwise darkened office.

Matthew Casey, Truck 81's lieutenant, leaned in through the open door.

"Everything okay, Chief? You're up kinda late."

Boden shrugged.

"Donna called," he sighed. "Baby's sick. Nothin' she can't handle, but...I guess she just needed to talk. Why are you up?"

Casey shrugged as he stepped inside the office, hands tucked into his blue sweatshirt.

"Otis's borscht," he heaved a sigh as he patted his chest. "I should've just made a sandwich..."

The dispatch tones echoed through the station and the lights switched on in the hallway and dormitory outside the office.

"Engine 51, Engine 33, Truck 81, Truck 68, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, Battalion 25," called the voice of a female dispatcher. "structure fire, 1445 Cooper, cross street Elmwood."

The chief pushed back from his desk and followed Casey down the hall as the other firefighters rushed from the dormitory.

"Oh man, I was havin' a good dream, too," Brian Zvonecek called as he jogged onto the apparatus floor. "It was just me and Julia Roberts on a beach. I was feeding her grapes..."

"Oh, spare us your teenage sex dreams, Otis," Christopher Herrmann grumbled, stepping into his turnouts before he opened a rear door on Truck 81.

Moments later, the front and rear apparatus doors rolled up and the rigs pulled out into the cold Chicago night, lights flashing and sirens screaming.

XXXXXX

"Tomorrow's the anniversary of Stephen's death," Brian said.

Jen sat up, her skin appearing milky white in the moonlight. After all these years, she was still as beautiful to Brian as when they had first met as children.

"I know," she said softly. "How's Helen doing?"

"She's putting on a brave face, but I know it's still hard for her. With Sean about to graduate, it can't be easy for her."

"We'll go by and see her tomorrow."

"It'll have to be in the afternoon. I've got a meeting at headquarters tomorrow morning with Chief Tigard."

"Is it about putting in your papers?"

Brian sat up.

"Jen..."

His wife's shoulders sank.

"You haven't even filled out your retirement papers yet, have you?"

"Honey, I still have some years left in me; I'm not dead."

He immediately knew that was a poor choice of words. He took her face in his hands.

"I'm not gonna end up like my brother. We're different. I don't take the chances that he took."

"I'm just sick to death of worrying about you, Brian. I've lived with a constant knot in my stomach since we've been together. Do you know what that's like?"

"Jen, I just..."

He paused when he heard the sirens, faint, but rapidly growing closer. He left their bed and pulled back the curtains.

Battalion 25's SUV screamed past on the empty street below, followed by Engine 51's pumper, then Truck 81. Squad 3, the heavy rescue truck and Ambulance 61 were close behind.

Brian lifted the window and inhaled the cool night air, which carried on it the unmistakable scent of smoke.

"There's a fire somewhere," he sighed.

A minute later, the contingent from 51 arrived on Cooper avenue. Chief Boden could feel the intense heat from across the street as he stepped from his vehicle and slipped on his white helmet.

Dark orange flames crackled and danced from the front windows of an old two story house in the middle of the block. Acrid black smoke billowed into the night sky and drifted out across the neighborhood.

Engine 51 pulled past the house where it stopped at the hydrant on the corner.

Lt. Kelly Severide hopped down from Squad 3 and slammed his door.

"Mask up!" he called to his crew as he hefted his air pack onto his shoulders.

"Battalion 25, to Engine 51, I want a two and a half on that front door as soon as possible," Boden called into his mic. "Squad 3, initiate a primary search; Truck 81, vent the roof."

"Truck 81, copy!" Casey called into his radio as he strapped an axe belt around his waist. "Otis, raise the stick! Herrmann, Mouch! Grab a 24'! Stella, you're hittin' the roof with me!"

"Cruz, you and me on search," said Severide buckling his harness.

"Got it, Lieutenant," replied Joe Cruz as he retrieved a halligan bar from the squad.

A fireball erupted from one of the house's front windows, forcing the firefighters to duck for cover as ash and burning embers rained down on them.

"Casey! We're not getting' through the front!" Severide shouted to his fellow Lieutenant.

Casey nodded.

"Mouch! Herrmann! Hurry up with that 24'! Ladder that top window on the west exposure!"

"Battalion 25 to Main," Boden called into his radio as sirens filled the air in all directions. "We're eastbound on Cooper. Two story, single family dwelling, heavy smoke and fire from the first floor. Give me a still and a box assignment and get PD out here to start shutting down traffic."

A young woman in a pink bathrobe ran from the house next door.

"The Greens! I think they're still inside!" she cried. "They're an elderly couple! They live alone!"

"We'll get 'em," Severide assured her as they pushed through the front gate. "I just need you to stay back for me, okay?"

Herrmann and Mouch carried the 24-foot ladder alongside the house and quickly propped it against the west side of the structure, just below the window. Severide and Cruz slipped on their masks and helmets, then ascended the ladder as 81's men held it in place.

Severide attempted to lift the window which was open just a crack, but it refused to budge. He pulled the halligan from his belt and used the flat end to smash in the glass. He knocked out any loose shards with his gloved hand, then pulled himself inside.

He dropped to his knees and began to crawl across the floor, sweeping the halligan across the carpet before him.

"Fire Department! Call out! Is there anybody in here?!"

Cruz dropped down into the bedroom and crawled behind his lieutenant.

Meanwhile below, Engine 51's crew had stretched a two and a half inch hose line across the front lawn and onto the front steps.

The other half of Squad 3, Capp and Tony, prepared to force open the front door. Capp wedged the flat end of a halligan bar into the front door jamb.

"Hit!" he called.

Tony swung a flat head axe and struck the end of the halligan driving it further into the jamb and splintering the wood.

"Hit!" Capp called again.

Again, Tony slammed the axe against the halligan. Capp gripped the bar with both hands and leaned hard against it until the door broke open.

He and Tony were forced to drop to their knees as flames jumped out from the doorway and rolled up under the awning.

One of the engine's men opened the nozzle and unleashed a powerful stream of water into the heart of the flames, creating a hissing cloud of steam.

"I got one!" Severide called through his mask as his hand brushed against a lifeless body. "I'm taking 'em out!"

He slipped his hands under the arms of Irving Green and dragged him back across the carpet.

Cruz bumped against the bed. He stood and found the motionless form of Martha Green.

"I've got another one, Lieutenant!"

"Squad 3 to Truck 81!" Severide called into his radio. "We're gonna need the

aerial at the front window, second floor! We've got two victims!"

By now, Truck 81's aerial ladder had been raised and extended to the roof, enabling Casey and Stella Kidd to begin the ventilation work.

Casey swung his axe into the roof, chopping open a hole that immediately seeped black smoke.

"Truck 81, copy that, Squad 3," he replied, keying the mic on his chest. "Otis, you copy that?"

"On it, Lieutenant," Otis replied as he operated the controls on the turntable at the base of the ladder.

He lowered the ladder several feet to the second floor bedroom window facing the street. Two firefighters from Truck 68 made their way up the aerial as Severide punched out the glass.

Severide and Cruz lifted their victims through the window to the waiting firefighters who quickly carried them back down the aerial.

Seconds later, Gabby Dawson and Sylvie Brett, Ambulance 61's paramedics, were on the sidewalk, performing CPR on Mr. Green while a few feet away, two firefighters from Engine 33 worked on his wife.

Severide and Cruz climbed down from Truck 81 and pulled off their masks.

"Nice work," Chief Boden said as he stood behind them.

Severide stared at the elderly couple laying on the sidewalk, fighting for their lives.

"Not if they don't make it," he sighed.

XXXXXX

An hour and a half later, the house was a charred, smoking shell of the home that it once was.

Captain Lynette Cartwright from the CFD's Office of Fire Investigation opened the trunk of her red sedan and retrieved a large case which she sat on the ground. She then pulled on her black and yellow striped turnout coat, slipped on her helmet and closed the trunk.

She picked up the case and stepped onto the sidewalk where Severide and Casey stood sipping water with several of the other firefighters. Their faces were stained black with soot.

"Captain," Severide nodded when he caught her eye.

"Lieutenant," replied Cartwright. "Since you're here, do they even need me?"

Severide bit his lip and stared at the ground.

Cartwright cocked her head.

"Hey, come on, Kelly," she smirked. "You know I always have to give you a hard time."

Casey cleared his throat.

"We just heard from Med," he said quietly. "The two victims that the squad pulled out...they didn't make it."

"Oh...I'm...I'm sorry guys. Truly."

She caught Severide's eye again. He shrugged and walked off.

"Cartwright!" Chief Boden called from the porch.

She squeezed Casey's shoulder, then made her way up to the house.

"What've ya got for me, Chief?"

"It's pretty obvious," he said, leading her inside the house.

"Damn, this place reeks of gasoline," she said.

"Uh-huh," Boden swept the bright white beam of his lantern along the floor. "Take a look at this."

She knelt and scrutinized the discolored marks on the floor.

"Pour patterns," she said grimly. "Son of a bitch. Another one."

"Another one?" asked the Chief.

Cartwright nodded as she stood.

"We had a similar fire tonight over in 48's district. Occupied dwelling, pour pattern, gasoline stench. 48 was first in and made the grab. Saved three people."

"So we've got a serial arsonist?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"Looks like it," she replied. "Except now, he's also a murderer."

To be continued...