Sorry for yet another short chapter. I figured after being quiet for the last couple of days I'd better submit everything I have written. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer.

Susanne

"Home sweet home," Chet muttered to himself.

Spencer had been right. There was a building two blocks from where they'd been. It was even reasonably intact. It had all four walls and a complete roof. It wasn't even a strip mall. What it was didn't really seem to calm anyone's nerves. Captain Stanley took in the building with a glance. It was certainly better than sleeping under the stars.

"Look, I know it's a pool house but it's better than nothing," Hank said. The building was barely twenty feet across by ten feet wide. The glass door was shattered but still in place. Carefully, Hank pulled the door open. He was surprised when it came open effortlessly and when the glass stayed within its frame.

Inside the pool house was dark. The door threw a rectangle of light that showed about half of the room. Pool utensils and shelving were sprawled across the cement floor. Hank had to pick up the pool skimmer and move it out of the way before he could enter the building.

Within moments he was back. He had some of the tools clutched in his hands. There was going to be just barely enough room for all of them without the clutter. "It'll work. We just need to empty it," he informed the others.

Nodding their heads, Chet, Johnny, Chris and Spencer slipped by the senior fireman and began pulling stuff out. The pool had been completely obliterated by the earthquake and subsequent fires. What they could see of the pool had huge cracks in the walls. Whatever what it had once held had long since drained away. They figured the homeowners weren't going to need their tools any time soon. It still felt wrong somehow.

Once all the tools were neatly piled beside the pool house, the group made their way inside its confines. Chris wasn't looking forward to spending the night in such close quarters with the group of men. But then, sleeping outside was even less appetizing. She tried to set herself up as close to the door as she could but Captain Stanley steered her toward the back of the building. If anyone entered the pool house he didn't want the first person they found to be the woman.

Swearing under her breath, Chris took up a position between Roy and Johnny. She sat down on the ground between them and began to rummage in her back pack. C Rations weren't going to taste too good but it was better than starving. In the gloom of the back of the building, Chris wasn't sure what she was pulling out of the bag but it didn't much matter. They were all hungry enough to eat several horses.

"Here," she said, handing the two paramedics each a foil wrapped package. Spencer was doing the same from his own back pack. Between the two of them they made sure that everyone had their own package. "Bon appétit."



All Chris knew about C Rations was that they were used during the Second World War. Munching on whatever she'd wound up with, she wondered if these rations were leftovers from the war. The hunk she was chewing on had the consistency and flavour of sawdust. Half way through the thing she had to pause and take a swig from the canteen. Otherwise she would have started choking on the stupid thing.

Wordlessly, she handed the canteen over to Roy. He seemed to be having similar problems with his own bar. Chris decided it was probably a good thing that it was dark, that way she couldn't see what she was eating. She also decided that the Allied Forces were lucky to have won the war when they fuelled their troops with this crap.

"Delicious," Johnny stated. In the dark the sarcasm of his voice was very obvious. Clearly the paramedic wasn't enjoying his meal either.

"Well, Johnny, you could have saved your portion for someone who'd appreciate it," Captain Stanley replied. "Chet's bar sure didn't last long."

"When I'm hungry, I'll eat just about anything, Cap," Chet voice said from the darkness. Chris thought by the sound of the man's voice that he'd pulled the spot closest to the door.

"Well," Marco began from his place beside Mike. "That would explain your cooking."