Eighteen Degrees Below Zero

It was, quite literally, a dark and stormy night. The storm was a blizzard, and as often happened, Firehouse 51 had quite a few visitors. Most of these were neighborhood folks from nearby apartments that had inadequate heat for one reason or another, who knew that they were always welcome to shelter in 51 if things got really bad. There were a few homeless folks here and there as well, as again was often the case.

And then there was this kid. He was perhaps nine or ten, scrawny with dark, wildly curly hair and blue eyes. He was currently seated on the floor in the common room, back to a wall, worn backpack at his side, silent and observant. It was, of course, Herrmann who first noticed that the boy did not seem to be attached to any particular family. Making his way over to the kid, he slid down and sat on the floor next to him.

"Ya hungry, kid?"

"A little."

"Well, there's food over there. Help yourself."

"I will in a few minutes. Let everybody else get fed first. I'll take whatever is left."

"C'mon," urged Herrmann. "There's plenty. We prepared for this earlier today. Trust me, we ain't gonna run out. I promise."

"In a bit," the boy replied. "Not just yet."

"Suit yourself, son. You got a name?"

"Most people do."

"True. Wanna share yours?"

"Not especially." There was nothing really rude in the boy's tone. He was just telling it like it was. He didn't care to be known.

"Okay, then," said Herrmann, getting up. "Go stuff your face whenever you feel like it."

"Thanks."

Walking over to Mouch, Herrmann said, "You see that kid over there? The one all by himself?"

"Yeah, I do. What's up with him?"

"I don't know yet, but I intend to find out if I can. Something about him is bugging me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he seems familiar, but not like I actually know him. More like he reminds me of somebody, but I can't put my finger on it."

Mouch looked at the little guy for a few minutes, and then said, "You know, I see what you mean. I get that same feeling, like he looks like somebody I know or I knew, but I can't really place it."

"Not just me then?"

"Noooo..." said Mouch thoughtfully. "Not just you."

The squad, having abandoned their table out on the frigid apparatus floor, was sitting companionably at one of the common room tables. They were cutting up with each other while frequently interacting with their guests as well. As a lone, quiet boy approached the chow line, wearing an ancient tactical backpack, Cruz glanced up and noticed him standing there, staring at the squad. "Hey. What's up?" he asked.

The boy seemed to flinch, and jerked his gaze away. "Nothing much," he muttered, suddenly fascinated by the floor at his feet.

"Pretty cold out, huh?" attempted Joe.

The boy shrugged as best he could with the heavy pack. "I guess," he said. "More about the snow, though. Hard to find a dry place to-" and he abruptly cut himself off, turning away and continuing to fill his plate. The members of squad looked at each other meaningfully. Could this little boy be out there on his own? They silently shook their heads and did not bother the boy further, but Severide looked at him for a long time. Did he know this youngster? The boy looked oddly familiar. Who did he remind Kelly of? It was weird. Like he knew the kid, but didn't know him. Strange.

Several hours later, the wind had begun to die down and the temperature to drop dramatically. As the thermometer plummeted toward zero and then below, the people inside of Firehouse 51 settled in for a long night, grateful for the warmth provided by the station. People were guided to bunks or found alternative places to sleep, some families huddling together on makeshift pallets on the floor. The little boy no one seemed to know had pulled a coat and a book from his pack, and with his head resting on the pack, was lying in nearly the same spot where he had crouched all evening long, quietly reading with the jacket tossed across his middle.

As the night wore on, a small child began to cry nearby. His mother tried unsuccessfully to comfort him, but he was frightened and confused, and he continued to sob in her arms. The mysterious boy sat up and unzipped a pocket of his backpack. Reaching in, he came out with a tiny stuffed bear, just the right size for the toddler's hand. Sliding over to the crying child, he handed the bear to him and said, "Here. You can have this. He can be your friend who makes you feel better, okay?" The little fellow nodded and reached out for the toy. The mother whispered her thanks, and the boy offered a small smile in return. Soon the tiny boy was sleeping against his mother's shoulder, and quiet descended, for the moment, on Firehouse 51

Stella and Kelly were sitting at a nearby table, and Stella commented in a whisper, "Aww. That was so sweet. Did you see that?"

"Yeah," Kelly replied. "That kid with the backpack seems to be a nice kid, but he's not very talkative."

"He's a really cute kid, too. Wanna hear something weird, though? He kind of reminds me of your dad."

Kelly started. "What?" he said, a little too loudly. The nearby toddler stirred in his sleep.

"Shhh," whispered Stella. "You'll wake up the crier. I said-"

"I heard what you said," responded Kelly, more quietly this time. "I just can't believe you said it. I've been trying all night to figure out who the kid reminds me of, and so have Herrmann and Mouch. We were talking about it a little while ago. But you're right. Except for that curly hair, he could be a little mini-Benny."

Kelly motioned Herrmann and Mouch over and shared Stella's observation. "Oh, my God, you're right," said Herrmann, at the same time that Mouch said, "That's it!"

"That's kinda weird," said Herrmann.

Mouch commented that he was sure it was just a coincidence.

Unbeknownst to any of them, the child they were discussing, still awake, heard every quiet word.

The night was calm, as firehouse nights go. There were no calls in the wee hours, and most people slept, albeit somewhat restlessly.

At around 3:00 AM, unseen and unheard, a small figure slipped out onto the apparatus floor and through the side door to the outside. The temperature was eighteen degrees below zero.

Kelly Severide, asleep with his head on the table, startled awake a little before five. Stretching stiff muscles, he rose and headed to the coffee maker to prepare the first pot of the day. He glanced in the direction of the boy from the night before, and realized he was not there. Forgetting about the coffee for the moment, he began to wander around the firehouse, looking for the child. He was nowhere to be found. By now, others were beginning to stir. Kelly started asking those who were awake if they had seen the kid, but no one had. Kelly was horrified to think of the little guy out there all alone in the cold early December predawn, but apparently he had slipped out sometime in the wee hours of the morning. Kelly himself had been awake until after two, so it was a fairly narrow window. Still, the boy could be anywhere by now. Kelly was worried.

The sun rose, bright and cold, a contrast to yesterday's heavy snow clouds, and the world was blindingly white and frozen solid. Guests began packing up, breakfast was served, and second shift ended. As Kelly and Stella left the firehouse together, his head was on a swivel. He didn't really expect to see the kid, but you never know.

No boy with a battered tactical backpack in sight.

"Hey," said Stella. "Your Messiah complex is showing."

"What?"

"You can't save everybody, Kelly. We've had this conversation before."

"Yeah. Okay. But maybe I can save that one."

"Or maybe he doesn't need saving. He looked like a pretty tough little guy to me. He probably knows how to take care of himself, even on a bitter cold night. Once the snow stopped, it was only about finding a warm place. My guess is that he knows a few."

Kelly shook his head. "He's a little kid, Stella. He shouldn't be on his own out there, no matter what the weather. He's just a little kid."

"I know," she said. "But it may be something you can't fix. Now I say we go home, take a nice hot shower, and you can build a fire. Then we can snuggle up with something warm to drink and a corny old movie. And fall asleep on the couch together, because buddy, I am BEAT."

"Sounds good," said Kelly. "But that little boy is out there somewhere in the cold."

"You don't know that, Kelly. You can't know that."

Kelly sighed. "I guess." He was still worried.