Warning: Description of adolescent death and epilogue contains graphic language
A/N: Be sure to read beyond the author's notes at the end as the epilogue is important to this story.
Chapter 14
Ryleigh stood still, moving only her eyes as she silently communicated with each man sitting behind the elongated table. She allowed them a few moments to ponder her presence, themselves, and the freeze-frame scene behind her depicting Los Angeles County Fire Department firefighters/paramedics on scene at a rescue. Once she was satisfied that every pair of eyes was fixed on her and that every mind was completely engaged in the moment, she began.
"A scene very similar to the one you just witnessed happened less than a week ago…but the outcome was not as positive." She spoke using a flat voice devoid of emotion as she seemed to glide before each member of the committee. "I was hovering in front of a local library when Mr. Ray Huggins arrived. You see, I knew that last Saturday was supposed to be the day he would come with me," for emphasis, she waved her free ghostly hand behind her as if indicating a portal to the Netherworld. "A library employee had already arrived to open the doors and I saw her smile as she turned the front door sign around from 'closed' to indicate the library was now open. She had seen her favorite patron turning into his usual parking spot and was happily awaiting his arrival inside the quietness of the early morning library."
Again, she hesitated briefly to allow her words to sink in, settling a skeleton-like hand across her chest. She had to say everything in just the right way so as to transport the committee back in time to the previous Saturday morning. "But he was never to step a foot inside that library again," she spoke grimly with her head bowed stepping forward and placing the telephone on the table in front of the committee chairman, Chief McConnike, making sure it was placed facing him as though he were about to make a phone call.
Beneath the robe and make-up, Ryleigh's heart was thudding inside her chest as she fought to keep her emotions in check. "A few minutes passed and when the young woman made her way back to the front door to clean the glass, I saw a look of horror overwhelm her features…and I knew she had seen him. He was slumped over the steering wheel of his car, unconscious. I watched and waited as she RIPPED the front door open SLAMMIMG it into the wall of the library foyer. Of course, I couldn't allow her to reach him so soon."
She inhaled and exhaled a cleansing breath…this was much more difficult than she had expected it to be. She allowed an evil grin to spread slowly across her face then continued, so light on her feet she appeared to be floating to and fro in front of the committee. "You see, on that day, I was determined that Mr. Huggins would be going with me." She pointed a boney index finger at her own chest. "So, as she RUSHED toward the steps, she stumbled," although she didn't say it, Ryleigh peeked a black shoe out from beneath the hem of her long flowing garment presenting the idea that perhaps the stumble was not accidental, then turned her back to the committee members for a brief moment.
On his knees, still frozen in place, Mike's heart was about to burst with pride. She was performing so well, her voice and appearance so convincing. Although he couldn't see her, he knew that the character she was portraying was laying the groundwork for the proposition he knew his captain was silently rehearsing.
"SLAM!" She clapped her skeletonized hands together as she spun around and was pleased to see a few of the committee member's jump. She had no idea that behind her, others had been jolted as well.
"The young woman slid head first across the marble and concrete injuring herself….mwahahahaha," she emphasized with a maniacal chuckle. "She tried to open the doors of his car but they were locked and so she began to POUND and POUND her blood covered hands against the windows and windshield. When she got no response, she made her way back inside to call for help." Another evil grin belied her broken heart as she pushed herself on with the story. "Once again, I blocked her efforts by covering up the emergency numbers posted beside the library telephone," she pointed at the telephone positioned in front of the Chief. "I watched her tear-streaked face as she THREW the offending books and magazines off the table and SHOVED various papers around until she finally revealed the numbers she sought. She picked up the telephone with shaky hands and in a trembling cracking voice she explained what had happened and the kind of help that was needed."
Again, Ryleigh hesitated allowing the mental images she was creating to sink into the minds of the listeners. "Seldom do I have a sense of pity," she raised a boney looking index finger, "but on this day, I decided to be gentle with her. I allowed her to return to Mr. Huggins –safely, this time - and wait for his would-be rescuers to arrive…knowing that I had successfully delayed them by several minutes; long enough to ensure that on this day, VICTORY…WAS….MINE!"
Turning, she saw that the six men behind her were remaining in position awaiting the line that would cue them to move again and resume a standing position. She knew they had no idea what she was going to do next. She stopped beside her open leather bag and retrieved a very large wall clock, gripping it tightly to her chest presenting the face toward the committee. Ryleigh momentarily lowered her head gulping back her emotions and clearing her throat. This was the part she had truly been dreading. This was the segment where she relayed the information she'd gained from Vince Howard, information about which the firefighters standing behind her were mostly unaware. Finally, she looked up breathing deeply as she locked eyes with each member of the committee for a moment, making sure she once again had their complete attention.
"Gentlemen, last Saturday was not the most recent example of my prowess." She held the clock so that the view of the committee was unobstructed. She tapped a pasty finger on the clock's face to indicate the time of the story she was about to tell. "At 10:51 just two days ago, I once again defeated the mighty forces of the Los Angeles County Fire Department."
She turned sideways giving the men still frozen in place behind her an unmistakable hand signal indicating they were to stand. From Hank's position in the scene, he and Marco were the only ones who could see her signal to them but as soon as the two of them began to move the others followed their lead. Chet was the last man to stand having to remove the oxygen mask and rise from a horizontal position. Hank and the rest of the crew tried to keep the alarm off their faces but what she was doing now was not in their original script. Complying, they each stood up assuming a formation similar to the one used for roll call. Their captain positioned himself at the head of the line awaiting his turn to explain their proposal.
Satisfied that she could continue, Ryleigh braced herself for the rest of the story she had to tell, knowing full well how painful it would be for the men standing behind her to relive the events of their last shift.
"Maria Cortez was only 17 years old but she suffered from migraine headaches. On Tuesday morning, she awoke not feeling well but decided to join her parents for breakfast anyway, happy that school was out for Spring Break. While eating a bowl of cereal, a gray dot formed in the middle of her field of vision and she knew that the excruciating pain would not be far behind. She told her parents what was happening then kissed them good-bye as they left for work. She decided to go back to bed hoping to sleep through the worst of it…but the pain of her migraine wasn't the only thing she managed to sleep through." Ryleigh floated along the row of mesmerized committee members. She dared not look behind her at the faces of the men she thought of so highly.
"An electrical fire began in the kitchen of her home and quickly found plenty of fuel to feed on as it hungrily devoured the wall between the kitchen and the stairway leading to the upstairs bedrooms. As Maria snuggled deeper into her medicated sleep, the all-consuming beast crawled up the stairs on its way to the girl's bedroom. When finally the smoke that preceded the flames began to sneak beneath her closed bedroom door, she groggily became aware of her predicament. Coughing as her young lungs fought to prevent the smoke from entering her respiratory system, she tried to leave the burning residence but found her only exit blocked; the stairs were completely engulfed by the flaming menace."
Ryleigh walked closer to Chief McConnike and tapped her wicked looking index finger against the telephone she had placed before him earlier. "She managed to make it to her parents' room where she knew there was a telephone. She dug around in the night stand searching for a phone book where she knew the emergency numbers were prominently displayed…only to discover there wasn't one. Panicked, she picked up the phone and dialed a very familiar number - the number to her best friend's house a few miles away."
Beads of sweat began to slither down from Ryleigh's temples. The robe was holding in her body heat but she was also feeling somewhat trapped between the men behind her and the fire department brass in front of her. She had to share every gruesome heart-wrenching detail to set the stage. Using an analogy Mike would have appreciated, she considered herself loading the bases for Hank, thus positioning him to hit a grand slam to close out their presentation and drive home the idea they were proposing.
"When her best friend, Paula, answered the phone, Maria explained, amid gasping coughs, that her house was on fire and she was trapped upstairs. Paula quickly hung up the phone and pulled out her phone book, dialing the number to the fire department; an act somewhat hampered by the use of a rotary telephone. At 10:51, the Los Angeles County Fire Department Dispatch toned out Station 51 where the men standing behind me now were on shift." She could only imagine the emotions Mike and the others were enduring as she told her story. Even so, she somehow mustered up the strength to finish her tale.
"As the emergency vehicles from Station 51 barreled through the streets on their way to their call, Maria found herself no longer able to breathe the acrid air that was rapidly filling the upstairs rooms. The heat and flames penetrated the door of her room and even though she could hear the wailing sirens announcing the firefighter's approach, she could no longer stay within the confines of her bedroom. Knowing that the light sensitivity induced by her migraine headache would be blindingly painful, she decided to climb out her bedroom window onto the bright metallic roof and wait for rescue. The squad and engine arrived and the drivers of those vehicles followed their training and departmental protocol in initiating their rescue." Ryleigh hung her head hugging the large clock even tighter to her chest. "While the paramedics were donning their turnouts and the linemen were removing the ladder necessary for a successful rescue, their victim shifted in her crouching position but because her eyes were tightly shut, she had lost her orientation on the roof…and subsequently lost her footing. With six well-trained and talented firefighters watching and moving into position to rescue her, Maria Cortez fell to her death, landing on her back on the concrete steps and sidewalk in front of her house. The back of her head and neck suffered the brunt of her fall and there was nothing those six men could do to save her. Her injuries were so severe that death was instantaneous. In that moment, she was gone...while six of L.A.'s finest watched in horror."
Again, she paced in front of the members of the committee. "As I said before, I again defeated the Los Angeles County Fire Department but I fear the brave men and women who make up this department are quickly closing in on me. This particular defeat of the department was only by one or two minutes…the same amount of time it took for her to search for a phone book where there wasn't one and to call her best friend for help."
Ryleigh set the clock down on the table beside the telephone then took a couple of steps back from the table holding up her hand to let Hank know it was not yet time for him to begin his final wrap-up. She lowered the hood from her robe, removed her glasses then peeled off the mask that had left her face looking haunted. She unzipped the black robe stepping out of the garment and draping it over her arms to hide the heavy grotesque make-up so that she appeared before the assembly looking more like her normal self in jeans and a red short-sleeved sweater. She quickly replaced her glasses so she could get a good look at the men she was about to address.
"Gentlemen, my name's Ryleigh Abrams and I'm the library employee described in the first story; the one who called for help for Mr. Ray Huggins. I'm a History major at UCLA and Mr. Huggins loved to share his personal knowledge of both World Wars with me. Last Saturday, I watched in awe at the valiant efforts of the entire crew now standing behind me as they tried to save him. They employed every tool available to them including their training in methods of vehicular extrication as well as paramedic training to revive him…but sadly it was not to be." She took another step backwards leaving her within an arm's length of the station crew. She stood in the center of the line with Mike, Roy and Johnny on her left and Chet, Marco and Hank on her right.
"The story of Maria Cortez is much more difficult for these men to accept. I've watched Mike and Roy beat themselves up terribly wondering if perhaps they could have driven faster to the scene; even though doing so could've jeopardized the lives of citizens driving on the streets as well as their own. I listened as Marco and Chet debated with each other how they could've gotten the ladder to her sooner while the normally talkative John seemed to shut down running over and over again in his mind how he could've stopped her from shifting on that roof. Their officer, Captain Hank Stanley, has struggled to restore the confidence of his crew while wondering himself what he could've done differently. After all, they only needed an additional one to two minutes in order to have positioned themselves to save her. The department has come a long way since horses pulled the steam engine to the scene of a fire. Advancements like the jaws of life and paramedicine have given countless victims a chance to survive when before they would have faced certain death. But gentlemen, it isn't enough…because we have yet to find a way to beat the clock." She nodded her head in the direction of the clock as she took the final step backwards to join the men in their line and allow Hank the opportunity to present their proposal.
Casting a glance to her left she saw Johnny busily working his jaw muscles as Roy lowered his eyes, blinking rapidly. Mike stood tall and confident but she could see his lips pressed thinly and his nostrils flaring as he fought to contain his emotions, remembering the sound of the girl's body landing against the concrete with a sickening thud, silencing her brief scream. To her right she could see Marco as a couple of tears coursed down his tanned face. Chet stood shuffling his weight from one foot to the other suddenly feeling very uncomfortable as he was forced to remember that horrible residential fire.
Hank's eyes registered the anticipation of the men seated before him while his heart felt the remorse of his crew with whom he stood. He took a few steps forward and with all the authority his voice could muster, he began. "Gentleman, I stand before you as a captain of what I consider to be the best crew ever assembled in a Los Angeles County Fire Station. And yet, you've just heard tales of two," he held uphis fingers as a visual aid, "code F's in just the last week." He began to pace before the assembled officers making eye contact, making sure to lock eyes with Battalion Chief McConnike. "Do these code F's somehow reflect deficiencies within this crew?"
He made his way to the far end of the line and one by one spoke of the merits of each man. "My second in command, Firefighter Specialist Mike Stoker. Engineer Stoker rose through the ranks quickly excelling in his skills and passing the Engineer's exam with a very high score. His exemplary record of service to the citizens of this county is beyond reproach. When the rest of us assemble on board our engine, we never question his ability to get us safely to and from the incident, regardless of how many calls he's already answered or how exhausting the shift might be. We count on him to keep the water flowing at the right pressure and he never fails. We trust him with our lives."
Reversing his steps, he walked the length of the line up until he reached the opposite end. "Firefighter Marco Lopez. A veteran with the department, Firefighter Lopez has speed, agility and strength; everything a Captain is looking for in a Senior Lineman. He can connect a supply line to a hydrant with record speed and never miss a beat. He can haul hose up ladders and stairwells and after hours of this muscle burning activity, he has just as much energy as when he started. His times on his drills are the envy of every boot in this department." Marco's dark eyes seemed to sparkle as Hank moved on past him to the shorter lineman.
"Firefighter Chester B. Kelly. Although he's the junior linemen of this crew, there is nothing inferior about the abilities of Firefighter Kelly. Chet may be the shortest member here but when it comes to climbing ladders for vertical ventilation, he's one of the fastest and most sure footed in the county. Both he and his partner, Firefighter Lopez, never hesitate to enter a burning building when there is a life at stake. Neither man shirks his duty and his responsibility to the tax- payers of our fine county. They have an innate ability to communicate non-verbally as they join forces in the attack and rest assured, gentlemen, they represent the best this department has to offer when it comes to fighting fires.
He paused long enough to see Chet gulp and knew the young man rarely ever heard his Captain's public praises. Hank thought briefly how often he had verbally reprimanded him over the years and silently vowed not to withhold public praise. He took a few steps, winking at Ryleigh as he passed her by on his way to the next man on his list.
"Firefighter/Paramedic John Gage. He's known around our station as being a bit of a daredevil but as his Captain I can honestly say that I haven't seen him take any risks the rest of us wouldn't take in his shoes. He is the lightest of my men, meaning he often is the one who is repelling off the side of a building or being the slimmest, he's the one who crawls into the carnage of twisted metal that I'm not sure even a small house cat could climb into. Yet, he does these things in order to save lives. And I dare say that he and his partner here," Hank pointed to Roy, "are probably the most successful paramedic team in all of Los Angeles County – perhaps the entire state. He began his career as a rescue man over at Station 10 but when his captain heard about a new program, he thought Firefighter Gage was perfect for it. Now, of course being so young, Firefighter Gage had other ideas; that is, until he lost a patient during a rescue, a man who had been electrocuted, and he knew that there had to be more he could do in the field to save more lives. And so he went to talk to this man."
Hank took one final step to the end of the line. "Firefighter/Paramedic Roy DeSoto. Not only does Fireman DeSoto possess the skills of an excellent firefighter but he is also a visionary. Before the Wedworth-Townsend Act was even approved by our legislature, he chose to pursue the training necessary to become a paramedic even though he wasn't allowed to function as one in the field. He's a member of a very elite group; he was in the very first class of paramedics trained out of Harbor General. He didn't wait for the approval of the legislature because in his words to Firefighter Gage…and I quote…'we're already too late.'"*
Hank turned and faced the committee locking eyes with each member. "Yes, each man in this crew stands on his own merits; each is unique in his abilities and stands out as a professional…but to see them working together is truly a sight to behold. The most intricately designed piece of machinery is nothing compared to the way this group works together and the number of lives and amount of property saved is far beyond what you might imagine. But, as you've already heard Miss Abrams say so well…'it isn't enough.'"
He took a few steps over to the place where Chief McConnike sat and picked up the large clock Ryleigh had placed before the older man. "We have yet to find a way to beat the clock," he said repeating her final words. He slowly laid the clock back down then eyed each committee member. "Or haven't we?"
Hank began to once again pace, making sure the eyes of the committee members were following him as he made his way around each prop that had been used earlier. "When I first joined Station 51 in its second year, we all made sure we canvassed our district handing out telephone stickers and magnets. Every home, every business, every phone booth and bulletin board had our contact number. And yet there were times when even that effort wasn't enough."
Roy and Johnny exchanged knowing looks as they remembered the death of their former instructor.
Hank continued,"Dr. Parson's was a popular pediatrician and lecturer for the paramedic program. He assisted in training both Roy and John. And yet, he died as a direct result of choking in a restaurant he frequented because no one there called the fire department until it was too late. Precious minutes were lost while the owner thumbed through the yellow pages trying to call for a doctor when all he had to do was call the number on the telephone sticker he'd been given a few months earlier."**
Hank squared his shoulders standing up to his full height of six feet four inches. "Members of the committee, there IS a way to beat the clock; a way to save the lives of many like perhaps Mr. Huggins or likely Dr. Parsons and most assuredly Maria Cortez. And to quote my Senior Medic…'we're already too late.' How? Because the technology has been available and in use for over a decade in this country…approximately eight years in the state of California alone. You see, a small town in the Northwest corner of Alabama was the first to implement it and on February 16, 1968 the first 9-1-1 call was made there in Haleyville. Since that time, hundreds maybe thousands of lives have been saved because of quicker response times. You all know as well as I do that every minute…in fact, every second counts in an emergency. So then I must ask you: why can't we do away with long telephone numbers our citizens must memorize or have posted near their phones? And not only full telephone numbers but different numbers for the police, sheriff and fire departments? Merced County, California has it as do counties in Texas and New York. So why don't we install the system that's been in place and operational in rural Haleyville, Alabama and Merced County, California so that the citizens of Los Angeles County will have the same benefits and protections?"
Hank gave the committee a moment to reflect on what he'd just told them. He then finished up with the proposal. "I find it ironic that the city of Los Angeles Fire Department was established in 1886, ten years after Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone. We stand here today, ten years after the first 9-1-1 call was made in our country….See? Like Roy said, we're already too late. But we've got to start somewhere so why not right here and right now?"
The lanky captain held up his hand, palm facing towards the committee as if silencing the protests he knew were beginning to bubble up in their minds. "I know what you're thinking…political lines, financial constraints, logistical nightmares…all are very valid reasons as to why 9-1-1 isn't already operational here. You've been reminded of how far we've come through our presentation today…but you've also been reminded of how far we have left to go. Let me ask you this. Are the lives of our citizens - those whose tax dollars pay our salaries which includes members of your own families – valuable enough to defeat those reasons and join forces with the other fire and law enforcement agencies in this county and push to get this system up and running?"
Hank lowered his head momentarily, "Gentlemen, we thank you for your time and consideration." He picked up the clock and telephone from the table seeing that Chief McConnike had been making notes…a lot of notes. The rest of the crew which on this day included Ryleigh, broke their formation and began gathering up the props and equipment they had used. But an echoing sound began which started out as a patter and ended as a thunderous roar. Each crew member turned around and in complete astonishment saw the entire committee rising to their feet and clapping their hands. Mike, Ryleigh, Marco, Chet, Johnny and Roy chuckled softly as Chief McConnike stepped from behind the table to shake hands with his former engineer. There were words of a congratulatory nature being spoken as the Chief slapped Captain Stanley on the back. And with their arms loaded and Mike pulling the squeaky metal car out the door they each saw what they had been hoping to see…Captain Stanley in the presence of Battalion Chief McConnike…and both men were smiling.
E!
Mike led the group to his pick-up truck where they all began to stow the props in the truck bed. He and Ryleigh would be spending the next few hours delivering them back to their rightful owners.
"Ryleigh…you're really good at storytelling."
She smiled at the older lineman who was placing the wooden horse and steam engine on back of Mike's truck; their captain was still inside talking to the committee. "Thank you, Marco."
"He's right but, um," Chet looked down nodding at Ryleigh's arms, "you might want to start using some lotion or something 'cause your arms are lookin' kinda dry."
Mike opened his mouth but was cut off by Ryleigh's retort.
"Hey, be nice or you might just find yourself being moisturized by a water bomb," she said with a giggle.
"Stoker! You told her? Guess there's no secrets among our crew," he said with nod of his head and a smile that let everyone know he was enjoying the light banter.
"Actually, there's still one secret," Johnny squinted his eyes in the direction of the entrance to headquarters seeing Captain Stanley walking towards them.
Hank looked at the questioning faces of his crew as he neared them. He knew they were wondering what had been discussed after they left the room.
"Whatcha think, Cap?" Johnny asked with one hand propped on his hip while the opposite elbow propped on the hood of Mike's truck; his trademark grin splashed across his face.
"I think it went quite well," he stated, pulling Ryleigh into a sideways hug. "Chief wanted me to let you all know that when you retire from the department you might have a shot at an acting career," his chuckle left them wondering if that was truly what Chief McConnike had said.
"So you think they might do it?"
"Yea, Mike…I think there's a really good chance they'll take it on."
"When will we know?" The question was Roy's.
"Yea, Cap…when will we know if you're gonna hafta tell us about that hat burnin'?"
Hank looked at Chet, opening his mouth to give him a smart aleck answer but then remembered the look on the Irishmen's face when he'd praised his work earlier and decided to simply answer the question he had been asked. "Well, no more than two weeks, I'd guess."
Johnny leaned in towards his partner and whispered, "I just hope Brice doesn't win."
"Grow up, Junior." Roy couldn't stop his eye roll as he pushed himself from his leaning position against Mike's driver's side door.
"I can't help it….I just don't like him. I mean, he…"
"Well," Hank began interrupting what was sure to be another Johnny rant. "I guess we'll know soon enough. I do want to thank each one of you for joining me in this effort. It took a lot of work and I've never been more proud of you men, uh, and lady," he smiled at Ryleigh, "than I am today." He watched the expressions on their faces and was glad he'd said the words.
"See you guys in the mornin'," Johnny tossed over his shoulder as he and Roy turned toward his Rover.
"Don't be late, Gage."
Johnny smirked at Chet's comment then splayed his open hand over his chest as he took a few steps backwards. "Hey, I wasn't the last one to get here today," he grinned winking at the only female among them.
"Yea, yea…save your energy for the latrine." Chet yelled as he opened the door of his VW van.
Ryleigh leaned up on her toes giving Mike a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm going to go on home and get cleaned up. I'll be ready when you get there," she said with a bit of a flirtatious flare.
"See you soon," he said with a blush.
"Mike, I can't begin to thank you enough for all your help…and hers too." Hank glanced at the retreating young woman.
"Oh, it was my pleasure, Cap." His grin let Hank know what part of the project had been his favorite.
"Yea, I guess even if it isn't chosen there was still one good outcome, huh?" Hank clapped his engineer on the back of the neck in a friendly squeeze.
"True, but I think it'll get picked."
"Honestly," Hank looked over at his engineer, "I think it will too."
E!
Morning chores were well underway the following morning when the station phone rang. Hank was completing paper work in his office and took the call there.
"Station 51, Captain Stanley speaking." Hank's voice was deep and professional. "Yessir…certainly. Thank you, Sir…ok, that'd be great…I'll let my men know. Thank you, Chief."
Hank returned the receiver to the cradle, steepling his hands beneath his chin. Butterflies returned to his stomach again and to calm them he pushed away from his desk and headed for the apparatus bay.
Mike was busy cleaning inside the cab of the fire engine when he heard his name being called. He looked up in response to his superior. "Yea, Cap?"
"Gather Gage and Kelly and meet me in the kitchen will ya pal?"
"Sure, Cap," Mike responded climbing down.
Hank turned and pushed his way through the kitchen door. "Lopez? DeSoto?"
Marco was cleaning out the refrigerator while Roy swept the floor. Both men looked up simultaneously at the sound of Hank's voice.
"Grab a seat," he nodded at the kitchen table just as the other three members of the crew came in.
"Somethin' wrong, Cap?"
"I…uh, don't think so, Chet." Hank stood while the others took their seats, knowing they were wondering what was going on. "Fellas, that phone call was from Chief McConnike. He, ah…he's stood us down until he has a chance to meet with us."
"A'right!"
Captain Stanley raised a hand to quickly quiet the mumbling that Johnny's outburst had created. "Not so fast. He didn't say why he was coming over so let's not jump to conclusions."
"Well then, what did he say…or can you tell us?"
Hank looked at his engineer and saw genuine concern in his crystal blue eyes. "All he said was that he was making us unavailable for an hour or so and that he was on his way over. Oh, and he said to be sure and have a pot of coffee ready when he got here."
"Uh-oh," Chet moaned crossing his arms on the table and leaning his forehead against them. "One of us must've screwed up."
Johnny's expressive face turned in Chet's direction displaying his confusion at the lineman's words. "Huh? If we'd've messed up Cap woulda told us…right, Cap?"
"Oh, yea…of course," but in the back of Hank's mind he was wondering if perhaps they had all done something inappropriate. His insecurities from his past began to resurface. Had their presentation been too forceful? But Chief McConnike had been complimentary of it. So did someone else complain about it? But, they had received a standing ovation from the committee? Perhaps the committee didn't approve of including a civilian in the presentation. But, she had added so much to the presentation and only a civilian could bring a civilian's perspective so how else could they have done it?
"EARTH TO CAP'N STANLEY?"
The sound of Johnny's raised voice jerked Hank from his musings. He looked around and realized that Roy was already wiping off the kitchen table while Marco had started returning the clean dishes from the dish drain to the cabinets and Mike was making a fresh pot of coffee. He knew then that he'd been daydreaming for several moments. Johnny and Chet stood before him with amused looks on their faces. "Oh…uh…did you say something, John?"
"Don't worry, Cap. Whatever it is, it'll be ok. We'll apologize and say we won't ever to it again and whatever else we have to do to make things right. Besides, maybe we're getting commendations," he cut a sideways grin in Roy's direction. "Real ones this time."***
The men returned to their chores with a sense of hurriedness in their step. They each wanted the station to look perfect for their visitor, more for Hank's sake than their own. Half an hour after the phone call, Chief McConnike was welcomed into the station by his former engineer.
"Nice to see you again, Chief."
"Likewise," the older man said extending a box of fresh pastries to Captain Stanley. "I thought your men might want to enjoy a break while you and I speak privately for a few minutes."
"Oh sure, sure…they'll like that. Um, how about a cup of coffee while we talk?" Hank could hear the nervousness in his voice and fought hard to control it.
"Sounds good to me," Chief McConnike said with a smile as he headed toward the kitchen; he knew his way around nearly every station in the county.
Mike made eye contact with Hank and caught the subtle nod of his superior's head in the direction of the kitchen. Immediately, he began rounding up the rest of the crew.
"Hey," he called out to Chet who was finishing up mopping the floor of the latrine, "Chief's here. Cap wants us all in the kitchen." He repeated the call to Johnny and Roy who were straightening up the dorm. He knew that Marco was already in the kitchen ensuring its readiness for the impromptu inspection.
"Good morning," the guest said as the crew gathered around the table.
A chorus of greetings responded back to him.
"Hank and I have some business to discuss for a few moments so you men take a break and enjoy some fresh donuts," he said accepting the proffered cup of coffee Hank extended. "We'll be back in a few minutes to go over a few things."
Five silent firefighters watched as the two officers left the kitchen heading for the captain's office.
"What the hell?"
"Chet," Johnny groaned through clinched teeth, "don't let'im hear you!"
"Well?" The question still lingered on the lineman's lips. "He didn't come over just to bring us donuts."
"Nope," Roy chimed in, "but let's make sure he knows we appreciate the gesture." He opened the pink box pulling out a large chocolate covered eclaire.
"First Ryleigh brings us cookies and then the Chief brings us donuts…we must be good." Marco poured his own cup of coffee then sat down with the others to enjoy their morning break.
Fifteen minutes later the two officers walked back into the kitchen, both men smiling proudly. The immediate sense of relief was obvious on the faces of the crew.
"How're the pastries?"
Chet grinned at the chief, patting his stomach in reply as Mike offered a more audible response.
"Oh they're great chief, thank you."
Hank poured both men a warmer then leaned against the kitchen counter gesturing to Chief McConnike to take the only available chair at the table. "Have a seat."
"And a donut," Marco offered pushing the mostly empty pink box in the chief's direction.
"I believe I will," he took the napkin Hank offered using it to reach inside the box and withdraw a lemon filled donut. "Hank has something he wants to share with you men," his quick glance at the captain did not go unseen by the crew; hope and excitement beginning to swell inside their chests.
Hank stood tall raising his cup in salute to his crewmen, "We did it! Our project was the one chosen."
Rounds of cheers, clapping and handshakes made their way around the energized room.
"Woohoo!"
"Alright!"
That's great!"
"Way to go, Cap!"
"We beat Brice," Johnny whispered, leaning close to Roy's ear so the chief wouldn't hear his remark.
"Tell them the rest, Hank," Chief McConnike prodded.
Hank's blush was pronounced as he bashfully glimpsed in his former captain's direction then returned his smiling gaze to his men. "Chief just asked me to head up the project."
"It's going to require quite a bit of politicking to bring all the affected agencies together but after what we saw yesterday, the committee had no doubt that your captain was the right man for the job," the chief added. "And, I just wanted to let you men know that your presentation was so impressive that you left us very little to discuss. You probably hadn't even gotten out of the parking lot when we voted."
"This is great, Chief. So many lives will be saved because of it."
"Well, Mike, it certainly won't happen overnight. There'll be a lot of work to be done writing grants to secure funding. But I, and the rest of the committee, know that it'll be well worth the time and effort." He looked around at the men staring back at him and thought of how heart-broken and frustrated they each must have felt after the events of the last week. His heart swelled with thankfulness, happy that he could at least add a feeling of jubilation and hope to what they had endured.
Chief stood up, again shaking hands with Hank and then with the other men; his congratulations gratefully accepted by the 'A' shift. "You know, we all were well aware of how 9-1-1 changed emergency services in other places throughout this great state and the entire nation; but when you all brought it to life before our eyes and pointed out in graphic detail how the lack of the service impacts our citizens – and the department – you left us with no other choice." He walked over to the sink and poured out the remnants of his lukewarm coffee, setting the empty cup in the basin. "We couldn't approve the idea fast enough. Like you said, DeSoto," he turned to lock eyes with the red haired paramedic, "we're already too late."
Roy allowed a slight smile to settle on his face as he looked back down at the table, his mind taking him back to the days before the Wedworth-Townsend Act had passed. Chief McConnike's voice brought him back to the present.
"You know fellas…your presentation also generated quite a bit of discussion among the committee members about something else as well; a discussion that you probably didn't intend to drum up." The chief looked around at the questioning faces staring back at him, including Hank's. "I didn't even mention this to your captain so he's hearing this for the first time as well. You brought to life a very large part of our past; our history is slowly fading away before our eyes and we've got to do something to stop its demise."
"Like what, Chief?" Chet gave voice to the question on everyone's mind.
"For instance," the older man crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the cabinet in front of the sink where he had been standing, "that little replica of the Nott Steam Engine got me thinking…I know where one of those is right this minute and it's just rusting away. Mike, when you brought up those early models of fire engines, one of the committee members says he knows where a couple of them are…in a junk yard. How disgusting is that?"
Johnny leaned one hand on the back of a chair, the other propped on his hip. He sighed as he stared downward, "yea…I know what ya mean." He looked over at his partner knowing that the red haired medic was remembering their old engine they too had purchased from a junkyard and restored.
"We've decided to begin work on a museum for our department; a place where old equipment, signs and even old uniforms can have a place of honor and respect. A place where future generations can learn from our past and perhaps even a few of us old timers can meet up to reminiscence someday."
Mike could feel the adrenaline beginning to jumpstart his brain. Now wasn't the time, but he would make sure that the name of Ryleigh Abrams was included in discussions later on. He knew what an asset she would be to such an undertaking and she obviously knew how important emergency services were to the county. "That's a wonderful idea," said the engineer with a broad smile and a twinkle in his eye.
"I'm glad you think so, Stoker. It'll take a lot of fund raising and hard work but I think with a few dedicated people, we could get it started pretty soon. And, you men will all be recognized for the pivotal role you played in the idea." Chief McConnike once again shook hands with the stunned crew before turning to Hank. "Guess I better let you fellas get back to work."
Hank walked the chief to his car, a final handshake rejoining the former captain and engineer in a symbol of agreement to work together again for as long as necessary to ensure the implementation of the program that would give the citizens of Los Angeles County a chance to survive their worst days and the Los Angeles city and county emergency services the opportunity to beat the clock.
Inside, Chet and Johnny were a million miles away; caught up in a dream world of their own making.
"Well, I think the squad should be in the museum…I mean, she is one o' the first paramedic squads in the whole state."
"Aww, Gage…it ain't just about the squad, ya know. Big Red should be in there too; she's perfection on wheels," Chet mused, his open hand waved before him as though he were unveiling a priceless sculpture. "Generations of future firefighters will want to admire her beauty and maybe even have their picture taken with her."
"You two are a couple of nuts," Roy deadpanned as he began running hot water in the sink to wash up the coffee cups.
"Roy…it could happen, it could really happen. Just think about it…a large warehouse with old engines in it, maybe some turnout gear, some of our equipment…hey, maybe even our biophone when we retire it for a newer model."
Roy shook his head in dismay at his partner's wild imagination. "Well, I'm way more interested in what Cap has to say about burning McConnike's hat," he said plunging his hands into the sudsy water.
"Oh yea…hey, I've got an idea," Chet stated with a crisp snap of his finger, pulling the men together to share what he wanted to do in the next few minutes.
When Hank walked back into the station, his mind was still spinning with the news. He rounded the corner into the apparatus bay and was stunned to see his five men, all standing shoulder to shoulder with their feet firmly planted and their arms crossed over their chests - each man sporting a Cheshire cat grin. A loud chuckle escaped from the captain's mouth as he completely understood the meaning of their formation and their faces.
"Ok…I'll tell you. But not right now; we've been stood back up." He waited a moment to see if there would be any protest. When no one moved or spoke, he continued. "It's a long story and I don't want any interruptions, alright?"
"No problem, Cap." Johnny laughed, "But you aren't gonna get outta this one, ya know?"
"I know, John," he responded, mimicking the stance of his men. "Besides, you all deserve to know…it'll make you better captains one day," he smiled locking eyes with each man knowing that each one had what it took to lead a crew at some point in the future.
"Why don't we meet at Cinders tomorrow night for a round of drinks…on me?" Hank thought the favorite bar of firefighters would be the most appropriate place for them to meet. He'd make sure to call ahead and reserve one of their private meeting rooms for the event. He knew the night might cost him a small fortune but in his mind, it was going to be well worth it and he was determined to let his men know how much he appreciated them and how proud he was to be their leader. "Oh, and Mike?"
"Yea, Cap?"
"Please share our news with Ryleigh. She'll be very happy to hear about all her hard work paying off…but, uh, I'm afraid she isn't invited tomorrow night…the story isn't exactly appropriate for mixed company."
The men chuckled loudly at that comment then quickly jumped in agreeing to meet at eight o'clock. This would give them plenty of time to rest if they had a difficult night. And finally, the mystery that had plagued the Station 51 'A' shift for over six years would soon be solved.
E!
*"Emergency!," World Premier Movie, episode 0.1
**"Drivers," Emergency! Season 2 episode 2.13
***"Above and Beyond – Nearly" Emergency! Season 5 episode 5.20
A/N: According to my research, 911 was placed in service throughout the entire county of Los Angeles in 1984, sixteen years after the first 911 call was made in the United States on February 16, 1968 in Haleyville, Alabama.
Also, the County of Los Angeles Fire Department Museum was founded in the mid-'70's by two L.A. County Firefighters. For more information please visit: .org.
E!
Epilogue
The following night, Hank walked through the door of Cinders looking for his favorite waitress, Glenda.
"Hiya, Cap."
He recognized the voice immediately and gave her a quick hug. Glenda was the widow of one of Los Angeles County's former Captains who had died years earlier from injuries sustained in a motor vehicle accident while off duty. She had begun working at Cinders shortly after his death both for a source of income and as a way of staying in touch with the brotherhood to which her husband had dedicated his life's work. She was very grateful to be so accepted by the men who frequented the establishment and even more grateful for their more than generous tips. They all knew that she would look out for them and never allow one of them to drive home after a night of overindulgence. She carried a small notebook in her purse with the names and telephone numbers of every captain of every shift for every station in the county. She was determined to do what she could to prevent another firefighter's wife from experiencing the heartbreak she had suffered; every man would make it home safely on her watch. And every captain knew that when she called for help, the life of one of their own was in jeopardy.
"Hey there, Glenda," he said, turning in the direction of her voice. "You got a room ready for us?"
"Sure do…I've already got some bowls of snacks in there so as soon as everyone arrives, I'll start the drinks flowing….just follow me."
Her smile seemed a little over eager to Hank but she was such a jovial person that he simply dismissed the thought and followed behind her to a side room where she opened the door for him. When he walked in, he nearly stumbled over his own chin. The dimly lit room was adorned with a banner that read 'CONGRATULATIONS' and beneath it, sitting around a large round table were all five members of his crew.
Hank looked back down at his watch then back up at the snickering men. "You're early."
"Whoa…write that down Chet, Johnny…you'll never hear him say that about the two of you again," Marco laughed, reaching towards one of the two platters of Nachos on the table.
"You can say that again," Roy chimed in, reaching for his own loaded nacho chip.
"Have a seat, Cap…we just thought we'd surprise you," Mike said, pulling out the only vacant chair at the table.
"You fellas do know that you've just proven to me that you can get to work on time without making me wonder where you are every morning, right?"
"Told ya, Gage," Chet said elbowing the dark haired paramedic.
Johnny took a long sip of his draft beer. "Well, I think Cap gets latrine duty tonight…seein' how's he's the last one here," Johnny laughed, returning his tall glass back to the table, grabbing a handful of peanuts then leaning back in his seat smugly.
"Funny you should mention latrines, Gage…"
"Whatcha drinking, Cap?" Glenda interrupted.
"Oh, bring me whatever their drinking," he said with a smile and waited for her to leave the room closing the door behind her. "Latrines are actually involved in my story."
"Haha," Johnny clapped his hands together,"I can't wait to hear this."
"Not until I get my beer," Hank commented, stalling for a few more minutes. He knew he would need the liquid courage or else he might not tell them the entire story; a story he knew they deserved to hear him tell.
Glenda was well aware of their need for privacy so she filled up two pitchers of draft beer and included an icy glass full for Hank as well then returned to the closed off room as quickly as she could. "Alright, fellas…I saw a few glasses starting to empty so I figured you might want a couple of pitchers to keep you going for a while." She leaned into the table placing Hank's glass in front of him and leaving the two pitchers sitting in the middle. "Need more nachos or snacks?"
"Johnny widened his eyes at the group and received a few nods. "Nope, I think we're good for a while," he said with a wink.
"Well, if you need anything just come and get me. I'll check back later on," she pulled the large tray underneath her arm and quietly exited the room.
The men chatted for several minutes, drinking and enjoying each other's company. It had been a while since the entire group had gotten together for an outing and they certainly had plenty to celebrate. They finished off both platters of nachos and most of the beer before Hank decided he'd delayed the inevitable long enough. He was just beginning to feel a slight buzz and didn't know whether it was from the alcohol or the events they were here to celebrate.
"Anybody want more food before I get started?" When no one responded, he began.
"Alright, I need each of you to swear that what I'm about to tell you will never leave this room." He locked eyes with each member of his crew, not breaking eye contact until the other man agreed to keep the story confidential. "Now, don't interrupt me…or I might just change my mind, ok?"
The guys all nodded their agreement, fighting back their desires to grin at their superior and his obvious struggle.
"Well," he gazed into the flickering flame of the candle light as his mind drifted back to his first assignment as an engineer.
Captain McConnike walked into his office, opening the personnel folder of his newest employee. "Engineer Henry 'Hank' Stanley," he mused to himself, slamming the folder closed with a grimace. He had been struggling to pull his rag tag crew together into a functional unit over the last three months. The last thing he needed was some hotshot engineer trying to undermine his authority. A knock on his door broke his attention away from his personnel problems.
"Uh, Captain McConnike?" A tall thin dark haired man stood nervously in the open doorway wringing his hands together.
"Yes?"
"I'm Hank Stanley…your new engineer," the nervous young man stated.
The Captain looked down at his watch and briefly raised an eyebrow. The lanky man did have one thing going for him; he was punctual. It was only 0730 and no one else from his shift had arrived yet. He scoffed at the thought. It was a good day when his crew arrived on time for roll call. He looked back up at the man still standing in the doorway and knew he needed to make him feel welcome.
"Nice to meet you, Hank. Follow me and I'll show you to your locker….I'm sure you can figure out which bunk is yours." His tone was more sarcastic than he'd intended it to be. When he stood up he was a bit taken aback at the height of his new second in command. Between his tall frame and his deep baritone voice, the younger man had a commanding presence. Perhaps, his new engineer would be the key to bringing the group of juvenile delinquents known as 'C' shift together. And that thought, over a few shifts, began to take root and grow stronger.
Hank couldn't figure out his knew captain. The man seemed to have two personalities; professional and commanding on scene but frustrating and hateful when in quarters. Of course, the other members of the crew didn't make the man's job any easier; something Hank readily admitted. The linemen seemed inept at times as they battled for supremacy on the lines. The two rescue men seemed to spend more time arguing over procedural differences rather than rescuing victims. Then if a scene required the four of them to work together there was sure to be a butt chewing when they returned to quarters. The four men seemed unable to work together with the skill and competence that each man possessed alone; something unheard of in a cohesive departmental unit.
By the third week, Hank was beginning to think he'd made a terrible mistake in accepting the promotion to engineer. Captain McConnike seemed to be picking on him unmercifully. He berated him in front of the others, pointing out his errors which in Hank's mind weren't really errors at all. Just when he thought he might talk with his superior privately, the older man began to do the same thing to the others on the shift. This behavior seemed unbecoming of a man in his position and after only six weeks, Hank began to consider a transfer request. But before he had the opportunity to make the request, something happened that caused him to make a decision he'd regret for the rest of his life.
The 'C' shift was in the process of being relieved from duty at a particularly nasty and deadly warehouse fire. The blaze began in the early morning hours while a skeleton crew was assembled inside and before it was discovered, it had gotten out of control. The station was called in as part of a second alarm assignment and fought with everything they had. As usual, the men did not perform as well as Captain McConnike had expected nor did they perform as well as the other crews seemed to perform. At one point during the disaster, Captain McConnike began shouting at his two linemen for some misdeed, although Hank, who was manning the controls of the engine, had no idea exactly what the two had done. The fatigue of a night fire and the pressure of knowing that life had already been lost in the turmoil brought out the worst in each man. As Captain McConnike turned away to storm off, one of the linemen yanked on his hose raising it just enough to cause the angry captain to trip over the charged line. The resulting fall caused him to need stitches in a very large gash above his forehead having landed against the bumper of the rescue truck.
"Damn it!" He groaned trying to determine the guilty party but neither man was looking at him; neither knew that they had just injured his captain. By the time his crew had been released from the scene, his eye was beginning to swell shut and he was ordered to go to the hospital before returning to his station. He got a ride to Harbor General in the back of an ambulance.
The men were driven back to quarters by their engineer who suddenly found himself in command of the haggard group. He looked around the locker room, having already been told that the station was being stood down until 'A' shift came on duty which was only an hour away.
His frustration was growing with each shift he worked but now he was in charge of the group swearing inside the locker room, although he was a reluctant leader. He pushed open the locker room door and stomped angry feet toward his own locker as phrases directed at their captain hovered in the sticky stuffy air of the steamy room.
"That sonofabitch," one of the linemen proclaimed.
"I know…I hate him," a shirtless rescue man replied.
"He must be wanting to climb the company ladder. Why else would he treat us like shit?" The rhetorical question had been posed by the second lineman.
"Yea…well, I'd like to get him halfway up that ladder and tip his ass over," the other rescue man admitted.
Hank jumped into the conversation with both feet as the group considered various ways to let Captain McConnike know their displeasure with HIS performance, since he was so good at pointing out their own. Hank was the one who thought of the idea but the others joined in rather quickly.
"Hey fellas…he was sent straight to the hospital so he won't be coming by here for a while," the engineer began and then he unleashed his plan to an astonished but more than willing crew. Before the members of 'A' shift arrived, Hank sneaked into the captain's office. As the leader of the shift by default, the incoming captain wouldn't question Hank's presence in the office even if he was caught. He carefully searched the office, pulling open desk drawers and filing cabinets until he found what he was looking for – Captain McConnike's white dress hat. No one knew why he kept it there but on this day, they were glad he did.
He turned it over, noting the 'McC' written inside the band then put it behind his back as he walked away from the office whistling a tune he'd heard on his radio during his commute to work the previous day. He looked around quickly to see if he saw any members of the next shift already arriving but seeing none, he quickly stepped backwards into the locker room and held up his trophy.
"Got it!" He held up the spotless hat as evidence.
"You're crazy but…let's do it!"
"Yea…I'm in…old bastard deserves it for the hell he puts us through every day," another man said.
Hank carefully stuffed it down in his duffle bag while the men surrounding him all agreed on a place and time to meet that very night. They wanted to salute their captain in a most memorable way.
Later that evening, the five crew members sat in a circle around a fire they'd built in a local camping ground. Each man had brought some item to consume and the group enjoyed a couple of hours of drinking beer and eating freshly grilled hotdogs. Time passed by quickly until the fire had burned down to just glowing embers but there was still one thing left to do. Hank removed Captain McConnike's hat setting it on the ground then each man took his hotdog roasting stick and together they raked five pieces of orange hot coals into the dress hat. As soon as the task was accomplished, they stood around it in a circle, unzipping their pants and preparing to use their own personal hoses and water supply to douse this particular fire.
But, they couldn't do it. There they stood, shoulder to shoulder, unified by one goal…the same goal their captain had been trying to instill in them by his harshness. They were actually working together to put out a fire.
Hank looked around at the red eyed faces of the others and he could tell they were thinking the same thing he was thinking at that very moment. Quickly, he covered the smoldering hat with dirt preventing further burning but the damage had already been done. The men quickly rezipped their pants and sat back down; they had to come up with a plausible explanation as to what had happened to their captain's hat. Midnight came and went and still the small assembly couldn't come up with a believable lie.
Finally, Hank spoke up. "Maybe we can just tell him the truth?"
"Are you stupid or something?"
"No…but Cap's a smart man and he isn't going to believe anything short of the truth." Hank was just as nervous as the others but he really felt he had no other choice but to come clean and accept the reprimand he knew was coming; he just hoped the punishment wasn't something worse than a reprimand. After all, he was a young husband and father who needed a job to support his growing family. It took a lot of convincing but eventually, Hank got the agreement from the others. They would all arrive early for their next shift and wait for their captain in the parking lot of their station.
An hour before shift change, the group met in the parking lot to the side of their station. The current shift was out on a run giving the group privacy in which to confess their horrible act to their superior. Captain McConnike was early, as usual, for their next shift and was shocked to see his crew waiting in the parking lot when he arrived; their faces somber.
He stepped out of his car and made his way to the group of men who seemed to be struggling to look at him. He approached them cautiously, wondering what they might be up to. "Men, what's going on here?"
The group began to shift from one foot to the other while looking at each other; they suddenly realized they hadn't chosen a spokesman for the group. Finally, Hank decided that since the idea was his, he needed to accept the responsibility.
He stepped forward slightly then in a shivering voice, he began. "Um, Cap…we, uh…that is to say, I…well,"
"Spit it out, Stanley; I haven't got all day."
"Yessir, well see…," Hank sighed and then decided to simply hold out the remains of the hat in his trembling hand.
The captain looked at what was left of his hat which was now basically just a ring with a bill; the soft inner lining having been eaten away by the burning coals. He reached a tentative hand out to take it away from his engineer, gripping what was left of the rim he recognized.
"What the hell's this supposed to be?" He looked long and hard into the eyes of Engineer Stanley seeing fear and yet respect in the hazel orbs.
Hank cleared his throat, wondering if this was the last day of his career. "Uh, sir…it's your hat."
"Yea, well I can see that but what did you twits do to it?" The older man's heart was thudding inside his chest causing the area around his stitches to throb slightly. But deeper inside, in the place where his soul seemed to reside, another sensation was beginning to develop.
"We, uh…well, we burned it." Hank's voice sounded hollow to his ears.
"Mmm-Hmm," he pulled the ring up to eye level to take a longer gaze at it, "And I assume this was just a very unfortunate accident?"
Hank felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as none of the other men in the group spoke up leaving him feeling very lonely. "Ah, no…no sir…it wasn't an accident," he said hanging his head.
"Ok, Stanley…in my office NOW!" He turned to his side to point in the direction of the station then turned back around to face what was left of his crew. "The rest of you, get your assess in uniform and get ready to protect the citizens of this county."
He waited a few moments but when no one moved, he repeated himself again but with more authority in his voice.
"Cap," one of the rescue men called out to him. "I did it too," he said, his shoulders slumping.
One by one the other three agreed and accepted their share of the blame for the hat burning. Slowly, he sent them one by one into the captain's office. What he wanted to say to them would be said to the group. As the last man made his way to the office as slowly as if he were being led to the gallows, the captain exhaled a long breath that blew out his cheeks. He recognized the behavior and was glad he'd finally seen it in the group.
Once he stepped into the crowded office, he made each man look at him before he began. He noted the child-like fear in each man's haunted face and knew they were wondering if they were going to be fired. He allowed them to sweat it out for several long minutes before he began to address the issue at hand.
"Men, I know I'm a hard-ass. I also know that you hate me and believe it or not, I'm ok with that. Because, what I've been trying to do for months now, has finally been accomplished. You've pulled together to face a common enemy and in so doing you have formed a true cohesive team. I've never seen you all work together before like I have this morning and for the first time…I see that you've got each other's backs. If you didn't, then you'd have let Stanley take the punishment alone but you didn't. That's important in our line of work and it's something I've been concerned about for this shift. Now, don't get me wrong, there will be punishment…but, I won't reprimand you. We'll just keep this in house. Because you didn't have to bring back…uh," he held up the ring of his charred hat, "the evidence. But since you did and you accepted the blame for it, together I might add, I'm going to consider it a, uh…casualty of a drill."
Hank allowed his eyes to refocus on the candle that had burned down significantly since he'd begun telling his story of the hat burning incident. He looked at the reflection of the dancing light on the walls around them, decorated with various metal tools of their trade. "So…anyway…that's the story."
"You never told him you guys were gonna piss on his hat?"
Hank looked at his Irish lineman with a sarcastic smile. "Nope…and you won't either, will you?"
"Oh, of course not."
"Well, now we understand why he asked you to head up the project for them…you're good at bringing groups together for a common goal," Roy's sincerity was written all over his face.
"So what did he do to punish you?"
Hank snickered at Johnny's question. "Well, if you really want to know then just burn my hat," he raised his empty glass in a silent toast before emptying one of the pitchers of its contents. He appreciated the chorus of laughter that made its way around the table.
"No, actually…he gave each one of us an entire month of latrine duty but he also made us run through our team drills until our tongues were hanging out." He took a big drink from his glass. "He turned us into the best damn shift in the whole county for many years," he said with a smile.
"So who finally knocked you guys off the top spot?"
"Ahh…well, Mike," he began with the biggest smile his men had ever seen, "there was this group on 'A' shift at a new station in Carson a few years back…"
E!
A/N: I know this was a long and drawn out story but I really appreciate you for following it and especially those who took the time to review. I truly thank you.