The Crew of 217s

by Ariane Rivendell

"Emergency!", its characters and content from the show is the property of Mark VII Productions and Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.

All original characters and story content is the sole property of Ariane Rivendell and may not be used without permission. Posted 10/30/13.

A/N: Just in time for Halloween! Mucho mucho bows of gratitude to my beta reader, who (hopefully if I did this right!) improved this tremendously. Happy Halloween everyone!

"Mayday!" Marco Lopez screamed into his HT as dust, heat and black soot loomed and swirled around him. "Battalion 14, HT 51! Ceiling collapse, west side! Six firemen down! Send a rescue squad and some manpower!" Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Lopez cursed at his tank alarm and ran to 51s squad around the corner to change out his air bottle. He looked quickly for Mike and the engine, knowing that Cap had had to reroute Mike to the east side of the structure due to the broken valve on the nearest hydrant. Still, there was no sign of Mike, the engine or anyone else.

Marco changed out the air bottle with enormous effort. His battle with changing the tank shackled him in place, desperation clutching at his chest while he noted the black smoke billowing uncontrollably from the structure. C'mon, c'mon! Precious minutes indifferently slipped by as he performed a normally two-man operation entirely on his own. Breath exploded outwardly in relief as he finally settled the new air bottle on his back and Marco grabbed his HT, "Battalion 14, HT 51. Lopez on the west side ceiling collapse going in for search and rescue! Request more manpower!" And without a moment to spare, Marco ran in after the fallen crew.

He'd felt the heat waffling out of the windows but it wasn't until he opened the door that it hit him like a solid wall. He stumbled out of the doorway for a moment to let the heat and smoke out then knelt in the stream of water draining out, strategizing. Do I find and follow the lines or do a sweep? Knowing that the last place he saw the men may not have been where they ended up in the collapse made his decision for him. Marco unhooked the hammer from his coat, grabbed the doorframe and pulled himself in. Doing a counter-clockwise rotational sweep Marco belly-crawled along the floor. He laid one hand on the wall while the other swept a search pattern in front of him, hammer in hand to extend his reach.

In the stifling blackness of the dark room, he could hear water spraying… somewhere off to his left; the tell-tale sound of an unmanned charged line thumping the nozzle wildly against the floor or a wall. Carajo! Marco stifled his rising sense of despair and pressed on. He noted, with amused and desperate irony, that had simple training not demanded he keep low to the ground, physics alone demanded it; there was simply no way to stand if he wanted to, the heat was so pressing. His sweeping hand hit something solid. He crawled up further and felt the object. Feeling it to be the leg of a person lying supine, Marco raised himself to a kneeling position, found an arm, grabbed the leg and dragged the form to the door. Once outside in the refreshingly cool air, he realized it was Captain Stanley he'd rescued and set him down some ways from the structure. Cap was back-up, so Chet has to be nearby...

"Battalion 14, HT 51, one man out of the west side ceiling collapse! Request again for manpower and a squad unit! I'm going in again!" Marco ran back in, resuming his belly crawl and counter-clockwise sweeping attack. Crawling farther and farther in, and over a line and a dropped nozzle, his hand came across what felt like a helmet. He felt around it: sure enough a helmet and a nose and a whole face with a moustache. Marco removed debris around the fallen man. Again raising himself to a kneeling position, Marco felt around for shoulders, grabbed and settled the supine form into his embrace and dragged Chet back to the door and outside to lay aside Cap, who remained unconscious.

Marco panted and stumbled for a step, leaned forward with hands on his knees, and took a breath of real air, resting for just a moment from having to drag two dead weights through the heat from Hell. Quickly, he grabbed the regulator and adjusted his mask and started to make his way back when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. A fireman, with dark turnouts and a strange mask already on, was standing next to him. Lopez saw two others, similarly dressed and masked, walking up behind the first man, and heading straight to the building.

Marco nodded, relieved, to the man next to him and they joined the other two. "I've got two out, but there are four others in there. I don't know exactly where they are," Marco huffed, voice muffled through the mask. "There's a line still charged off to the left, so watch it."

The firefighter who had laid his hand on Marco's shoulder simply nodded and the four of them made their way into the dark smoke and lead-melting heat. Marco entered in and moved right, as he had done before, while the other three headed left.

Lopez continued his sweeping pattern and found another body. He removed debris and, digging deep into his reserves of strength, he dragged the downed fireman in frustrating spurts across the floor to the safety and coolness of the outside, saw that it was Johnny, and set him down with the others.

With a deep breath, Marco went back in, and with another sweep, found Roy and dragged him out, noting with relief that the three other fireman had brought out another man.

Good. Only one more…

Marco panted as he rested for a moment near the rescued men, who were still out cold. Feeling that all of his energy had been utterly drained from him, he leaned his hands on his knees, feeling the sweat pouring down his face, his neck and to his undershirt. Heat and grime and smoke and perspiration throughout his body stuck to him, but elation had him on cloud nine that almost everyone was out. Now with help, he could go in after the last man.

Marco ran in and, again, continued his sweeping pattern and found the last man, toward the middle of the room, but he was covered in debris, a heavy beam lying on top of him. One of the load-bearing ceiling beams, Marco reasoned. "Help me! I found the last man!" Marco called to the other men, but got no answer. They must be outside…

"HT 217, HT 51! Bring the porto-power!" Marco called into his radio, but there was still no answer. With a sickening sense in his gut and an empathetic reassuring pat, Marco left the man and returned outside.

As Marco ran to the squad to retrieve the porto-power, he saw two of the firemen in dark turnouts walking slowly away from the scene. With them was another man in the more familiar tan coat and bunkers. Lopez pointed at the building, "Wait! Didn't you guys hear me on the radio? There's one more still inside! He's trapped!" Marco yelled after them.

The three men seemed to ignore him and continued on toward the street. You've got to be kidding me! Cursing under his breath, Marco started for the squad to grab the porto-power when he spotted the third firefighter in dark coats following the others.

"There's one man still in there!" Marco pleaded to him.

The firefighter turned to Marco, "Don't go in there."

Lopez's face fell in incredulity. "There's another man in there! He's trapped! We have to help him!"

"Don't go in there," the man calmly iterated and casually followed after the other three.

"What the hell's wrong with you guys?" Exasperated and desperate, Marco noted the names on the backs of the turnouts, fully intending to report them, then ran and grabbed the porto-power from the squad. "Battalion 14, HT 51! One man still trapped in the ceiling collapse on the west side! I need more help!" he called into the HT.

As Marco belly-crawled toward the trapped firefighter with the porto-power, the ceiling cracked.

Marco's HT crackled to life. "HT 51, Battalion 14, 10-4. I'm sending 110 to your position!"

~!~

"Well, there's the man of the hour, Marco Lopez!" Chief McConnike sauntered into the dayroom at Station 51, with a grin from ear to ear. He clasped Marco's hand and pumped it until Lopez felt his shoulder dislocating.

"Thanks, Chief."

McConnike set down his dress hat on the counter and grabbed the mug of coffee Stoker had offered him. "Thanks, Stoker. You all healed up there, Lopez?"

"Sure, Chief. It wasn't that bad. Just a bruised rib and some smoke inhalation. Nothing serious."

"Nothing serious, he says," McConnike repeated mockingly as his eyes swept the rest of 51s engine and squad crews who were standing around the kitchen. "I'd, uh, I'd like to put your name in, Lopez, for a medal or a commendation at the very least, but I have a few questions for you. C'mere, siddown, siddown," chief invited cheerily, gesturing to the table.

Looking warily around at the rest of his brothers, Marco grabbed a chair. He noted that Cap walked around the kitchen to sit next to him, but wasn't sure if it was for his support or Cap's need to escape McConnike as much as he could.

"I'm not sure why I'd get a medal, Chief…" Marco began.

McConnike waved him off and took a sip from his mug. "Alright, Lopez, so tell me what happened."

Marco again eyed his brothers who were gathered around to support him. "Well, we entered the room from inside as we advanced on the fire. Chet was on the nozzle, I was his back-up. Cap took my place and told me to go grab a pike pole."

"So you were outside when it happened."

"Yes, Chief."

"Okay." The battalion chief turned to Cap. "Now you told me that's when you heard the ceiling start to give, is that right?"

"Right, Chief. After I sent out Lopez, I heard the ceiling crack. I told the guys inside to shut off the lines and move, but the ceiling gave way just as I was about to relay the warning over the radio."

McConnike laid eyes again on Lopez. "You heard the roof cave in while these guys, here, were inside, correct?"

"Yes, Chief. At about that time, my alarm went off, so I had to change out the air bottle by myself. I figured all of theirs were about going off at the same time, too."

"Alright. Now, understand, Lopez, I'm in no way negating the life-saving and heroic actions you subsequently underwent to save your crew, but, lemme ask you, why didn't you call it in? Did you expect that your captain had already done that?"

Marco's brow furrowed and his confused expression scanned the expectant looks the guys were throwing at him.

Cap leaned in closer, elbow on the table, voice low. "He's asking why didn't you radio in the collapse…"

"I understand what he's asking, Cap," Marco said, shifting in his seat, with the uncomfortable feeling that Cap and McConnike had talked about this in great length, already. Marco set his gaze back on the battalion chief. "I did radio it in, Chief."

Eyes widened. "You did?"

"Yes, Chief! I called 'mayday', that six firemen were down, and to send a rescue squad and more manpower."

"What frequency were you on?"

"Two."

McConnike's eyes met Cap's for a moment. "Are you sure, Lopez?"

"Yes, Chief. I distinctly remember checking. I always check my HT. After that fiasco last year at that townhouse fire, I always double-check that my HT is on frequency two."

McConnike leaned back in the chair, eyes meeting Hank's again, before settling on the table. "Was that the only time you called in?"

Marco felt his heart sinking, wondering how much trouble he was suddenly in. "Chief, can I ask? I know a man died, but…did he die because of me?"

McConnike sighed. "It's like this, Lopez, there is no record of any transmission received from you in that time."

Marco's hands splayed apart, "But…Chief! I called in at least three or four times."

"You sure about that, Marco?" Cap asked.

Marco's lips pressed together and he shot Cap a look of annoyance, noting in further irritation that Cap was watching him as if gauging his reaction. "Yes, I'm sure," he said through clenched teeth. "Look, I reported in every time I went in and how many men were still in there. I even made a third request for a rescue squad and more manpower."

"And you're sure you were on frequency two?" Roy softly asked.

Marco glared at the senior paramedic. "Yes, I'm sure."

McConnike reached inside his uniform pocket and brought out a piece of paper. "Look, Lopez, the only transmission anyone received was this one." He handed Marco the paper.

"'Battalion 14, HT 51! One man still trapped in the ceiling collapse on the west side! I need more help!'" Marco read aloud, nodding as he did so. "Yes, this was the last transmission I sent, Chief. But I'd already called in several times before that." Marco deflated in his seat. "Look," Marco began, "am I in trouble, Cap? Did I do something wrong?"

Cap sought out McConnike, but it was the battalion chief who answered. "Well, I'll probably have to put in a reprimand for breach of communication protocol."

Marco's face fell as he laid his arms on the table in defeat. Chet came up and laid empathetic hands on best friend's shoulders.

"However," McConnike continued, cheerfully. "That shouldn't have any bearing on a commendation for single-handedly saving five firefighters."

"Here here!" Gage called, raising his coffee mug while the others followed suit.

Cap gently slapped Lopez on the back while he proudly grinned.

But Marco quickly put up a hand. "Wait a minute. Chief. Hold on, guys," Marco called when his brothers continued their celebrations. "I didn't save them by myself. I had help."

The group quieted down, curiosity piqued.

Cap's brow furrowed and he fully turned his chair to face his lineman. "What're you talking about, Marco?"

"I had help!" Marco repeated.

"From who?" McConnike leaned forward in his chair.

"From 217s. I figured you'd sent them."

The battalion chief shook his head, "You read the transcript, Lopez, I sent 110s."

Marco shook his head. "After I brought out Cap and Chet, three guys from 217s came to help. We went in and got everyone out, all except one guy from their company who was trapped under debris. The thing is, he was the last one left and before we got him out, they started to leave."

"The guys from 217s?" Stoker asked, leaning on the kitchen counter.

"Right. They started to leave with another guy who must've come to help out while I was inside. I called to them, tried to tell them that there was one man still in there, but they just walked away. Then one of the other guys told me not to go in there and they just left! I couldn't believe it! So I memorized their names so I could report them for dereliction of duty."

McConnike, sighed heavily, and took out a notepad and a pen and leafed through the notepad. "Alright, Lopez, what are their names?"

"O'Brien, Duffy and Henrickson. I didn't catch the name of the fourth guy who I only saw at the end. But I remember the first three 'cause they had on dark turnouts. So you see, Chief, someone heard me over the radio, so there has to be a record of my transmission somewhere…."

Marco's sentence trailed as Cap very gently put a hand on his arm to quiet him.

Marco glanced at Cap then followed the look in Cap's eyes to McConnike, who sat frozen, a haunted look in his eyes. The room seemed suddenly eerily quiet as every firefighter in the room was focused on the robust battalion chief.

"Lopez," McConnike began in a low whisper, sad eyes fixated on the table. "Did you say O'Brien, Duffy and Henrickson?"

Marco's eyes darted around the faces of his shift mates. "Yes, Chief. Duffy and Henrickson and the fourth guy just…walked away. But O'Brien told me not to go in there."

McConnike quickly glanced at Lopez, eyes narrowed. "What did you say he said?"

"I told them there was still a man in there and O'Brien just looked at me and said 'don't go in there.'"

"And that's when you went in?" Captain Stanley asked.

"Of course! I couldn't believe they'd just walk away and leave one of their own trapped in there!" Marco said.

"So you went back in and that's when the rest of the ceiling collapsed?" Chet asked.

"Right! I guess O'Brien must've known, but I wish he'd said something," Marco groused.

Hank looked around at his men before settling on his boss, who remained stock still, a somber expression on his face.

The chief cleared his throat and his eyes became alert. "How did he look to you, Lopez?"

Marco shrugged, confusion settling on his features at the odd question. "He looked okay, Chief."

"He wasn't—" The battalion chief stopped himself, eyes on the table. "He didn't look…injured to you?"

"Not in the least, Chief. He was perfectly fine. In fact, he didn't seem tired, at all. He wasn't even sweating!"

McConnike closed his eyes as if relieved. With a small sigh, he put away the notebook and pen and rose to leave. "Well, Hank, Lopez, this was…exceptionally informative. I'll send you my final recommendations and any comments by the end of the month. Boys, I'm glad you all made it out alive. Good thing you've got Lopez, here, to watch your backs."

"We're lucky as all get out," Johnny agreed, laying a friendly hand on Marco's shoulder.

"I'm sure you'll all get the notice for the funeral arrangements for Geddes. I'll be in touch," McConnike said and left by the kitchen door, leaving a station full of firefighters to return to the rigors of their shift.

~!~

[End of the month]

Stoker, Lopez, Gage and DeSoto sauntered in to the dayroom to hear Captain Stanley whistle in disbelief, arms outstretched against the edge of the table as he prepared to stand.

"What's goin' on?" Johnny asked, peering into the coffee pot.

"I got the scoops on 217s," Chet answered somberly from his seat at the table, leaning on his elbows.

"What scoops?" Roy asked, reaching for a coffee mug from the cabinet.

"1956."

"1956?" Marco sneered. "Why'd you wanna dig up stuff about 217s from 1956?"

Captain Stanley crossed the room to grab his own mug. "Boy, you guys aren't gonna believe this."

Stoker sat at the table. "Okay. Spill it, Chet."

Chet looked around the kitchen at the scattered group, herding the attention of the guys, "Alright, now, this is all about what happened to Marco at the ceiling collapse few weeks ago. Listen to this: McConnike was a lineman back in 1956. Guess where he was assigned?"

"217s," Johnny answered, allowing Cap to fill his mug. "That's not much of a mystery when you told us you had the scoops on 'em. But why're you digging up stuff about McConnike?"

"Yeah, okay, I screwed that up. But it gets better. And don't be so quick to dismiss the juiciest story you've ever heard, Johnny my boy."

"Okay, okay, Mr. Grapevine. We'll be the judge of that. Let's hear it," Johnny shot Roy a knowing look across the room as he set his coffee mug down ahead of his sitting at the table.

Chet leaned on the table, gauging the captivation of his audience. "Get this, in 1956, engine 217 was called out to a fire at a bakery. Now the bakery had an apartment above it where the owner lived. Apparently, when they got the call, it was assumed that it was the bakery that was on fire."

"But it was the apartment upstairs," Roy guessed, pulling out a chair at the table as he took a sip of his brew.

"Yup. The fire had already engulfed the upstairs by the time they got there. Henrickson, Duffy, O'Brien and McConnike," Chet emphasized the last name he listed, "had gone inside the bakery which was the only way in to the upstairs apartment. You guys recognize those names?"

Marco straightened up in his seat. "Yeah! Those were the names of the guys who helped me get you guys out. Oh, now wait a minute, Chet—"

Cap waved him off. "Let him finish, Marco."

"Now, according to my sources, McConnike and O'Brien came back down to get another line when Henrickson called 'mayday' from an upstairs window. They hooked up another line and were just about to go in when the apartment ceiling collapsed. That made the ceiling of the bakery unstable. Now, according to Warrens over at 217s, who knows Captain Odom, who used to work with Chief Miller, who knows Chief Sadler, who's a good friend of McConnike's, McConnike told him that O'Brien blocked the door into the bakery and told McConnike 'don't go in there'."

"You're making this up, Chet," Johnny scoffed, but one look at the stern faces of his brothers kept him from saying anything further.

"Go on, Chet," Stoker encouraged.

"McConnike, of course, was having none of it and tried to rush the door, but O'Brien blocked him again and ordered him to radio in for more help. McConnike did while O'Brien went in to help Henrickson and Duffy and…."

"And that's when the bakery ceiling collapsed," Roy deduced.

"Bingo," Chet confirmed. "All three of them died at the scene."

"Well, how can that be," Roy questioned. "I mean, then you're saying that Marco saw—"

"De fantasma," Marco whispered, looking spooked.

"That's just nonsense," Roy insisted.

"Is it?" Cap asked. "How else did Marco get everyone out of that room in the time that he did without help?"

"And how would he have known the names of McConnike's old pals who died under the same circumstances?" Mike offered.

"Maybe he looked it up," Roy suggested, though even he felt that his own argument sounded thin in light of the evidence.

"I had no idea McConnike was ever at 217s," Marco retorted.

"And if Marco didn't pull Wojcik from the room, how'd he get outside?" Chet asked.

"And why didn't any of his transmissions sound over the radio?" Mike asked. "I was at the engine monitoring the pumps and the radio. All I heard was what the Chief heard, which was the last transmission."

"Not to mention that what O'Brien said to him is not in the official report," Stanley said.

"No. It's not," came a voice from the kitchen doorway.

Cap's face held a horrified expression. "Chief! I'm…sorry about that. Marco's story has us all a little spooked, you might imagine."

"I can," McConnike said. "It's okay, Hank. O'Brien, Duffy, and Henrickson deserve to have their stories remembered. I just wanted to stop by and tell Lopez in person, where is he? –" McConnike focused on 51s lineman "- that I'm recommending you for a commendation with no reprimands for any breach in communication protocols."

51s erupted in cheering and applause, much to the embarrassment of Lopez. McConnike shook Marco's hand, "Well done, Lopez."

"Thanks, Chief, but I really didn't do it by myself. Weird as it sounds, the guys from 217s were as real as…all of you standing here."

"I know. O'Brien was my best friend. He was the best guy; you'd-a liked him, Hank," McConnike slapped Hank hard on the shoulder. "I've carried the weight of his death on my shoulders for the last 20 years. But now I know he's okay and still looking out for his own. Help or not, you still saved your own crew as well as Wojcik from 217s. I know you went in after Geddes, but I have a feeling Danny O'Brien was already taking care of him." McConnike took a deep breath, as if to cleanse himself. "Ya did good, Lopez," his voice bellowed. "Tell O'Brien next time you see him, he still owes me twenty bucks," McConnike cackled his way out to his car.

"Tell him thanks, too," Captain Stanley added.

"If it's all the same to you, I hope I never see him again. If you don't mind Cap, I'd like to use the phone in the dorm. Tell Mama Lopez her son's getting a commendation."

"Go ahead, Marco. Alright, who's doing chow tonight…?"

The voices of his brothers faded as Marco crossed the apparatus bay. For a brief moment, he thought he saw three men standing near the bay doors by the engine, but when he looked, only the white of the doors could be seen.

"Gracias, amigos," Marco said. A small breeze whirled in the bay and Marco smiled and made his way into the dorm.

fin