When the fire truck of Squad 55 made its way through crowded streets, Walsh handled the truck like he had be born just to do that. It was routine. Charlene Converse was nevertheless watching him with growing concern. Even if nobody else seemed to notice, she knew there was something wrong. Since every fireman was not only brave, but also just as stubborn, she knew there wasn't much she could do anyway. Except for keeping an eye on him.
They arrived at the scene only minutes after the alarm had woken them up. Flames had already forced windowpanes out of their frames on their quest for oxygen. There were still people coming out of the front door of the three floor building, some sooty from being close to the flames. The third floor seemed to be the origin of the fire, since flames were coming out of almost every window. Walsh stopped the truck and everyone jumped out.
"DK, Converse, Walsh, start search and rescue on the second floor! Lombardo, start a line and follow them!" Johnson delegated.
When he went back to meet with the crew of Ladder 100, who were directly behind Squad 55, he discovered Walsh leaning against the engine.
"Walsh, something wrong?" he asked.
"No, Lieu, I'm okay, " Billy said and forced himself to do his job. He couldn't let his squad down. Not now, not in the middle of a live burn.
Bosco opened his eyes. Wasn't he just laying down on the floor of the station house? There was light blinding him and he could swear he could smell the salty air of an ocean. A fog horn sounded directly behind him, jerking him around. There is was: this huge, old ship. People were already boarding it.
"Yo, Bosco!" he heard a voice from a distance. He knew that voice, but couldn't place it. With unsteady eyes he scanned the ship until he discovered a familiar face.
"Caffey?"
Bosco couldn't believe his eyes. Bobby Caffey had been killed almost a year ago, by his crack-head friend. He couldn't possibly…
Maurice felt a gentle urge to go on board of that ship. He wanted to find out what the hell was going on here. Why Bobby could be here.
On his way up the gangway, he saw some other faces that had a certain resemblance with people that were gone already. He spotted that crack-head Jason, who had died while in the holding cell. Boy, Bosco could still hear the angry voice of Swersky. But the investigation had shown that Jason died of a ruptured aneurysm. Then, there was this homeless guy, which they had found stiff as a piece of frozen meat in that dark and cold basement. They had almost lost Doc on that day.
Finally, Bosco reached Bobby Caffey and looked at him. There was no sign of a bullet wound or blood on his clothing.
"What are you doing here, man?" Caffey wanted to know.
Bosco shook his head.
"I don't know…where am I? Am I…?" He couldn't say it. It was almost as if it would come final if he would say the magic word.
"Dead?" Bobby laughed. "Well, not yet…see this?" He pulled a badge from Bosco's uniform. It was marked "V".
"This is a visitors card. So you still can go back."
"Visitors card? What the hell?" Bosco asked confused. Then he got down on his knees, pain jolting through his body like electroshocks.
"Bobby? What's going…?"
Before Bosco could finish the sentence, he felt two arms grabbing him under his and dragging him off board. The scene around him started to spin and move. It was like going through a tunnel with 100 miles an hour.
"I got a rhythm!" Doc almost yelled. After another 3 shocks, Bosco seemed to have decided to stay with them. Faith was crying, part because of the fear of loosing her partner, part because of she was relieved that his heart was pounding on its own again.
"It's looking good, so let's get him out of here!" Doc added and prepared Bosco's unconscious body to be moved onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.
"You can come with us, Faith," Parker said. He knew how much Bosco meant to her.
Yokas got in at the passenger's side and turned to see her partner. His face was pale and red from the blood. The band aid was soaked with blood as well. It didn't look good, but at least he was alive.
After Boscorelli had been stabilised, Lieutenant Swersky remembered something. He looked for the crew of 55-John and found Officer Gusler sitting on a wooden bench on the floor, his body still trembling. Steven still couldn't believe what he had done several minutes ago – he had killed someone.
Gently, Swersky let a hand rest on Gusler's shoulder. He knew he had to take care of the young officer. No one would have ever imagined that he would be capable of something like this. No one would have ever imagined Gusler being a cop this long. He just seemed too fragile to be a cop. But he had proved them wrong today.
"That was a good shooting if there ever was one," Swersky told him.
Gusler looked up to his superior.
"Will there be an investigation?" he asked with a shaky voice.
"Of course, there always is. It's standard procedure. You will be suspended for two days, but you won't have to worry about anything."
Steven returned his stare to the spot where the body of the shooter had been laying till only moments ago.
"Except that I killed a man today…nothing standard about that…"
Swersky let his breath out audibly and remained silent for a moment until he remembered why he wanted to talk to Gusler and his partner.
"Why were you here? You were supposed to check on Christine Thomas."
"There was nobody home," Officer Greene explained, just coming back from the vendor machines downstairs. She handed her partner a soda can and took a sip of her coffee.
"We tried several times, even had dispatch call her – nothing. And we didn't have probable cause to force entry."
The Lieutenant thought for a moment and felt his concern grow inside of him.
"I want you to go back, take Davis and Sullivan with you."
"What do you want us to do there?" Greene asked suspiciously.
"Get creative," Swersky simply said and turned to go.
"You really care for her, don't you Boss?" Greene asked with an understanding look on her face.
"I've got to get to the hospital."
