Chapter 11 : Forget last night

It was wet this morning in Chicago. A gentle light without sun filtered into the living room carefully arranged by Brett. One morning like any other in itself for an autumn day in Ilinois. The apartment was quiet, empty of human activity until ...

"You're still live on CBS radio, it's 6 o'clock!" . The crackle of the radio sounded in Otis's room, generating a grunt of discontent. From under the duvet, a hand came out abruptly. Seeking the alarm clock, Otis blindly pressed the button on the small metal box. His arm fell heavily on the side of the bed.

The silence had returned, the few ray of light which reached the room lit up the place; clothes littered the floor, the drawers of the chests of drawers were removed from their place, a bottle of Imperia vodka dragged near the night table, it also stripped of its unique drawer as it was knocked down to the ground.

"... weather is always beautiful September 7 with ...". The same voice of radio presenter echoed, but this time much farther, as smothered by the walls. A weary sigh emerged from the sheets. Otis turned slowly, fully realizing the effects of the day before. He passed a hand over his face, lingering over his eyes, as if to adjust the sharpness of his sight. Lying on his back, motionless, the fireman had the impression of pitching. He stood up slightly, leaning on the second pillow he never used, just like the right half of the bed.

All these years spent in twin beds had it as formatted. Yet it had been a month since he had been forced to sleep in a double bed. When one of the joists supporting the upper bed had broken, Otis had no choice but to part with it ... reluctantly. Finally, that was the watered down version served by his roommates.

Thus, when a first bar had withdrawn from the ladder, Otis had become accustomed to spanning the missing space until the day when, pressed by time, he had forgotten this hole and had spread out full length on the floor. The young man then made the decision to use only the bottom bed, but then one of the beams supporting the top bed had broken under the weight of time. Otis then noticed it when he returned from his guard. Cruz did not understand why his friend was rushing out, while a few minutes earlier both spoke only of the joy of joining their respective beds. Otis then had a perfect timing; a one meter long board under his arm, he went into the apartment while Brett was showering and Cruz was sleeping soundly in his room. With a few efforts, the board fixed in such a way that it supports the weight of the top, the piece of furniture was then patched up for the second time. In spite of a night far enough away from the uncertainty of his procedure, Otis had relaxed his attention after a week, judging his good as new.

A few days later, however, Brett had been awakened by a deafening sound. Jumping out of bed, she grabbed her baseball bat that was taking dust in a corner. Since the burglary of her apartment a few years ago, she always made sure to have enough to defend herself at hand, despite the fact that she lives with two guys, both firefighters in addition. Prudently opening the door, she went to the rooms of Cruz and Otis where the noise came from. When she saw in the dark a male figure, the ambulance raised her bat but her movement was spotted by the shadow. She turned around leaving Cruz and Brett in a frightened and tense face to face

- What are you doing with this bat? had whispered Cruz, disconcerted by the situation

- I heard a strange noise, we never know. She replied in the same tone. Sylvie pointed to the doors in front of her roommates. "It came from this side, I'm pretty sure. If it's you, tell me now that I can go back to bed! In her blue pajamas with pandas on her pants, she looked like a little girl, a frightened and yet resolutely brave girl with her wooden bat.

- I'm not responsible ! -s'insurgea Cruz- I had just finished a Skype with Leon when I heard like a boom in the apartment.

Brett looked him in the eye, as if to make sure he was telling the truth.

"So it's from Otis's room," she murmured.

She walked over to the pine door, which was shining with an iron plate on which was written "Otis, knock before entering" with many small stars, in the line of Star Trek. Followed closely by Cruz, the young woman gently squeezed her ear to the door

- What are you playing at ?

Cruz did not understand it, it was two o'clock in the morning, he was tired, and all this tension for an unfortunate noise exasperated him to the highest point. Brett peeled off the door, looked at him for a few seconds, then repositioned herself, her ear pressed against the cold wood.

- If one falls on a part of legs in the air I prefer to prepare psychologically.

Cruz pouffa

- No, but wait, we talk about Otis there

- Or a thief who has entered through his window, knocked him out and is in the process of robbing his entire collection of Star Wars

- And why not a Russian psychopath who, bloodthirsty, has just killed him and is about to attack us once a KGB code found in his socks?

- You're joking. (white) is not it?

The fireman raised his eyes to heaven when a huge crunch was heard from the other side of the door, followed by groans vaguely resembling insults. Brett and Cruz exchanged a bewildered look. Cruz pushed Brett slightly to the side and quickly tapped, trying to open the door, but the door was locked.

- Otis ?! It's Cruz, how's it going?

A silence. Brett stared at the door before speaking in turn.

- Otis, open or break the door.

Cruz raised an eyebrow and stared at her

- It would not be the first time. Let a door open, I mean. The young woman explained

"Everything's okay, guys, go back to bed, everything's fine!

Otis's voice echoed on the other side.

- You're sure ? What was that noise?

"I would bet more on the Russian spy after reflection," Cruz said with a smirk. And it all seems to me like a real torture session

Brett was split between a furious desire to laugh and a slight anxiety. This was reinforced when, once again, a crack followed by a tumult resounded.

- Damn it!

- Otis? Open or I swear I do not hesitate to break this door!

Cruz and Brett looked at each other, again the fireman turned around as a key was inserted into the lock. The door opened on an annoyed Otis. The picture behind him was pitiful, yet he did not understand the relief on the faces of his friends.

- You're okay ?

Brett hastened to check that his friend had nothing. Apart from a scratch on the temple, Otis looked healthy. His check finished, Brett glanced quickly behind his colleague without actually paying attention.

- What was all this raffut? asked Cruz

Otis seemed embarrassed. Passing a hand on his neck, he sighed while shifting, allowing the extent of the damage to be seen.

It had been the last night he had spent in that bed. Brett and Cruz had failed to choke as they laughed at the sight of this wooden sandwich. Otis remembered it as if it were yesterday. When a new beam had given way, the one it had replaced had not held up long. So it was that in the middle of the night he had almost been crushed by the top bed, had only time to get out and try to hold it until the board yielded and the two beds come together like two magnets. After this incident, Brett and Cruz had been clear, it was necessary at all costs that their roommate bought a new bed. Yet Otis had told them: he wanted to have it repaired whatever it cost him. Brett and Cruz had put this on the account of finance. Thus, in addition to the taunts of these comrades at the barracks (which Cruz had naturally made known to him), Otis had been surprised when he returned one evening to his room to see a double bed instead of the " former. His colleagues had paid to buy it and, although the gesture made him very happy, the facts were no more pleasing: the last memory he had literally had to go to smoke.

"One more," he thought. It was while thinking of all this that the young fireman awoke, still groggy. Otis leaned heavily on the pillows behind him. One drummed at his door but the noise amplified his headache.

"You're going to be like a marmot!" Joe roared from the corridor

Otis turned his head towards his awakening: 7:37. Dreaming drew his time in silence, plunging him into an apnea of memories from which he always emerged in lack of air. That was not what he wanted his life to look like. His gaze was lost on the poster in front of him: a poster of Hatch and Benedict who seemed to fix it. "I know, I have to go ..." he replied inside.

Ten minutes later, showered, changed, and ready, he grabbed an apple from the kitchen floor and stepped out of the apartment. He realized that the cars of Cruz and Brett had already left.

He reached the barracks on the razor's edge, entered the locker room and quickly changed. 8:01 am: it was rather good.

Most of the 51 members were in the common room at the beginning of the guard. Dawson and Herrman were chatting at the end of a coffee table while Cruz and Mouch watched a replay of a Chicago Fire match on the couch. The squad team was already in the hangar at their table, and Brett was loading the ambulance.

- We should redo a theme party! exclaimed Herrmann, drinking a sip of coffee

- We totally agree with Herrmann but ...

- But?

- We have already organized all the possible evenings and imaginable, do not you think that it is enough?

Herrmann stared at her partner in the same way as if she had slapped him. The evenings at Molly's were her business, her baby. He held the bar like no one, even though there were three of them at the controls, the one we remembered at the counter was always Christopher Herrmann.

- Gabby, Gabby, Gabby ... -Herrmann shook his head- We did not try Mexican evenings when-

"Yes, and it was in July if I remember correctly."

Casey had just entered the room, took one of the chairs near his wife and sat down

- As a Brazilian, French, Thai, Canadian, Italian evening ... I continue?

Gabby smiles to the ears

- You see ? We have already tried everything

"I'll find something else," Herrmann grumbled. And at worst, it will have nothing geographical!

"He would be able to find us a country that nobody knows but to make his theme party," Matt joked.

Gabby and Casey laughed heartily as Herrmann sat on Mouch's armrest, completely absorbed by the images that were parading.

"By the way, did anyone see Kidd and Otis?" The guard is officially started.

Everyone shook their heads at the question of their lieutenant.

"Otis should be late, wake-up call this morning, I think," Cruz replied.

Casey nodded.

Kidd rushed back into the locker room as Otis closed his locker.

- Hey!

- Hi, wake-up call? asked Otis

"Rather hangover after the party at Molly's, you know what it is, besides, we did not see you last night," she answered, unlocking her cupboard.

- No service that night

- Nothing prevented you from having a drink

- I had other projects

- Oh ! And you ? This projects made you late?

Otis gave her an intrigued look

- If you're still in the locker room when I get here you're late

- Ah

- So ?

Otis smiled half as Stella put on her T-shirt

- Nothing very original

"Let me guess," she said, slamming the door of her locker, shaking Otis's headache, wincing. Oh I see !

Stella fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a pellet of Paracetamol

"I would not tell Herrmann that you're tricking the Molly," she said as she passed the pill

- It would be nice

Suddenly, the siren sounds " TRUCK 81, AMBULANCE 61, SQUAD 3, STRUCTURE FIRE AT 387 NEAR NORTH SIDE".

can you give me your opinion (positive or negative)

This is the adaptation in English of "Souviens-toi" written in French

PLease review ! Thank you

Next chapter tomorrow :)