WHAT'S OUT THERE
by ardavenport
)()()()(- - PART 1 - -)()()()(
Rrrrrr-rrrr-rrrriiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiiiii-iiiiiinn-nnnn-nnnn-nggg-gggg!
Roy opened his eyes. Dark ceiling above. Where was that phone?
Rrrrrr-rrrr-rrrriiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiiiii-iiiiiinn-nnnn-nnnn-nggg-gggg!
He rolled over. And rammed his hand into a brick wall. The illusion of pillows, a large comfortable mattress and Joanne next to him vanished.
No. He was at the station. No snack leftovers on the night stand, no smell of floral scented shampooed hair. Just five other men in dormitory beds.
Rrrrrr-rrrr-rrrriiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiiiii-iiiiiinn-nnnn-nnnn-nggg-gggg!
Throwing the blanket off and sitting up, he looked all around, seeing only the big, less dark squares of the windows on one wall in the blackness. He turned, his feet automatically finding his boots on the floor by his bedside.
On the other side of the brick divider, Roy heard Captain Stanley stirring. "What . . .?"
Rrrrrr-rrrr-rrrriiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiiiii-iiiiiinn-nnnn-nnnn-nggg-gggg!
Pulling his pants and suspenders up and standing in one motion, he dove forward, his hand slapping his partner's chest in the darkness.
"Huunh?"
"Johnny! Get up! The power's out!"
Rrrrrrr-rrrr-rrriiii-iiiiiii-iiiiiii-iiii - - thunk - - ping-ping - - thup - - "Station Fifty-One, Captain Stanley speaking."
Other voices in the darkness.
"Cap?" Mike Stoker.
"Que?" Marco Lopez.
Roy stepped across the aside, his hand reaching out and finding a blanket with a leg under it.
"Chet! Get up! The power's out!"
"Whaaa?"
"All right, everyone up, right now!" A flashlight beam scanned across the room, then a second one. "Everyone in full turnout gear, oxygen tanks and masks! There's a chlorine leak at the refinery across the street! Move it! Move it!"
Stoker took the second flashlight. They scrambled into the apparatus bay, boots slapping on the concrete floor, Roy and John going around to the squad, Stanley and the others to the fire engine. Metal compartment doors banging open, equipment being hauled out.
"Roy!" Stanley's voice called out over the noise. "We're going east to the intersection at Alameda! The police are setting up a check-point there and we're meeting Station 36 and 16 there!"
"Right, Cap!"
On the far side of the squad from the engine and the wavering flashlight beams, Roy could barely see his equipment in the gloom, but he and Johnny knew where everything was. Turnout coat, air-tank, mask. He hefted the straps over his shoulders while his partner took out the other tank.
"Marco! Chet! Help me get this door open!"
One flashlight beam bounced over the closed garage door as Stanley and the others worked to pull it up manually. Roy opened the door to the squad.
"You going to be able to drive in all this?" The oxygen mask muffled Johnny's voice as they both reached for the fire helmets hanging behind the seat.
"I guess we'll find out." His words were flat and loud inside his air mask as he tugged on the helmet strap. The tank forced him to set forward on the seat so he was practically leaning on the steering wheel. Foot on the brake, he turned the key. The engine started. The headlights and reds came on just as the three firemen got the garage door up high enough.
Ssssssssssssiiiii-hhhhhaaaaaaaahhh.
His breath sound filled his mask.
The headlights shone on the pale concrete driveway of the station, but little else in the . . . .
. . . . . Fog.
It have been in the weather report during the ten o'clock news. Fog. Possibly heavy in the morning.
It didn't even look like their street. As if Station Fifty-One had been transported in the middle of the night to a dark city with low oppressive clouds, faintly glowing with the distant light of a city that still had power.
The squad rolled forward. Roy clicked on the siren and switched to high beams. He turned left, the engine right behind him in the rear view mirror. As he turned left, Roy saw the distinctive orange of a fire, a hazy glow high up on a refinery tower somewhere in the distant foggy darkness.
Ssssssssssssiiiii-hhhhhaaaaaaaahhh.
He smelled his own breath, stale coffee, the onions from Marco's dinner last night, old smoke from his SCBA. The squad sped down the street, past the usual landmarks, crazily lit in headlights before disappearing into the dark and fog.
He saw movement ahead, an arm waving. He slowed down. There was a car, an old four-door sedan, the hood up. The engine behind him fell back, slowing down as well. He braked, the squad stopping by the car and the man wearing a white jacket and holding a large wrench in his hand. The engine's bright glaring headlights illuminated the raised hood of the car.
"Roy, John, keep your air masks on. Use the oxygen masks from the squad; we'll take them with us on the engine." Captain Stanley's orders boomed from engine's loud speaker.
Clumsily sliding out from under the steering wheel in all his equipment, Roy saw Kelly climbing down from his side of the fire engine. He ran around the front of the squad to help Johnny with the oxygen tank.
"Hey!" The man with wrench shouted at a second, bigger man who came out of the driver's side of the stalled car. Three steps took him to Johnny who had a side compartment open. The man's fist shot out. Johnny went down.
"Heeey!" Roy's mask deadened his cry of outrage as the attacker reached down, grabbing at Johnny's mask and tank.
Marco and Chet grabbed him from behind but the much heavier man shook him off. He swung his arm wide. Marco ducked under it, just barely getting out of the way, but the large man pushed forward, shoving Marco to the ground.
A woman's voice shouted. "Eddie! Eddie! Stop it! Stop it!"
Kelly and Captain Stanley joined the fray, but their gear slowed them down and the man seemed crazed. Roy pulled Johnny away while the others distracted him. His partner's arms moved weakly, but he didn't try to stand.
Thunk!
Roy turned back at the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting a body.
The man who attacked Johnny, Eddie, collapsed onto the pavement. The man who had flagged them down, the wrench held high, their reds flashing on its dull silver. It slipped from his grasp clinking loudly on the darkened concrete.
"Get them on the engine, right now! Move it!"
Captain Stanley's muffled order spurred them into action. Marco and ChetT scrambled to hustle the two men and a woman who had emerged from the car back with them to the engine. Roy bent over Johnny, but Captain Stanley grabbed him under an arm and pulled him up.
"Don't waste time looking him over here. Just get him in the squad and let's get out of here!"
Hampered by their safety gear, they clumsily stuffed Johnny into the passenger seat, head first, helmet, turnout coat, air tank and all. Then they had to pull him up, face mask on the dashboard so he wasn't lying on the driver's side. They bumped helmets as they both tried to get Johnny's legs in. The Captain pulled back and slammed the door shut after Roy finished.
"Go!" Stanley ran back to the engine while Roy went to his side of the squad and climbed in, his air tank forcing him to sit forward.
Roy turned the key and the squad's engine roared on. With a glance at his unmoving partner and the side mirrors, he took the shifter out of park and into drive. Putting his foot on the gas, he clicked on the siren. The air horn of the engine blasted right behind him.
He doubted that there was more than a quarter mile of visibility in the fog, but he thought the patch of it forward looked a little brighter, not just whitened from his headlights. Was the power on up ahead?
His breath loud inside his face mask, he put his foot down hard on the accelerator.
)()()()(- - End PART 1 - -)()()()(