CHAPTER 4
There was that nagging feeling. Persistent, unrelenting. It had rushed back to the forefront of his mind as he ambled into the rec room a few minutes earlier. From the way the men glanced at him, he'd felt like an intruder. He'd joined into the conversation, but kept his distance, reading their faces for any sign of discontent. In every pair of eyes belonging to A-shift, he noted the same lack of expression. Internal warning bells began to chime, his gaze shifting from man to man. Marco to Chet, Chet to Roy, Roy to… Fred Nottingham?
Where's Gage? He'd glanced around the room, counting the bodies, pairing each of his crew to their B-Shift counterpart.
Stanley, Mancuso. Kelly, Haines. Mullen, Lopez. DeSoto, Dwyer. Gage…No Gage. Stoker….
Now, standing in the bay, the eyes of his linemen and B-Shift engineer Abbott looking at him, a concerning fact beckoned his attention. Mike Stoker was late. With the station steeped in silence, tension climbed the walls, its hands grinding against the bricks.
"Roll call in five."
"Yessir," they men replied chorally, but Hank didn't hear, his thudding heart screaming into his ears as he forced himself to walk—not sprint—to the office.
If any of the three men before him had x-ray vision, they would have seen fear seizing him from the inside out, its cold grip steadily creeping up his throat until he couldn't talk anymore.
There were exactly three reasons why Hank Stanley shut his office door. The first was that he needed to have a private conversation with one of his men. The second was that he had to attend to private department business. The third reason was that he was angry. Typically, when a man was late, Hank would comment on the fact in front of the crew, cueing them to his disdain. Today, he'd said nothing. He didn't know what to say. If it had been Chet or Johnny who was late, he would have given them a stern lecture and latrine duty. But he also would have yielded to his compassion, giving the men a chance to explain why he was late. Life happened, something Hank knew all too well. If Roy or Marco was late, he would still have given them the stern lecture, perhaps with more understanding. Afterall, he was a father like Roy, and though Marco was single without children, he had a large family with plenty of nieces and nephews to care for. But Mike? It the five years Mike had been on his crew, the man we never less than ten minutes early.
"I know that look on Cap's face." Chet thought Hank was safely out of earshot in the office.
"I know you do Chet. Because you're the one whose usually late." The heart-felt attempt at humor fell to the floor.
"Hey, it's not just me. Gage too."
"You know, maybe he had a flat tire" Abbott suggested before leaving the two men alone, heading toward the latrine to start cleaning it. Though Hank hadn't said it, Mike would be getting latrine duty. Besides, Abbott couldn't face his fellow firemen, not right now. The secret he'd been carrying had almost forced its way out.
Unaware that Hank had stopped just beyond the doorframe and was listening, Chet rested a hand on Marco's shoulder, his voice hushed to a loud whisper.
"I'm serious Marco. If he doesn't get here soon, Cap'll kill him! Remember when I thought he was going to kill me for being late when all I wanted to do was help my poor old neighbor?" This time it was Chet who resorted to humor, but seriousness overpowered any effect it might have had.
The nagging within him multiplied, overcoming his body. Weakly, he leaned against the doorframe for support. Just breathe. His attempt at self-consolation was futile.
One of my men thought I would kill him for being late?
The memory came rushing back and he couldn't force it down.
"KELLY!" His voiced boomed across the station.
"Yes Cap?"
"You're late."
"It wasn't my fault Cap, honest! I was on my way here when I saw an old lady carrying a few bags to her car. They looked kinda heavy so I stopped to see if she needed help."
"Then maybe you should be responsible and leave for work earlier if you want to help little old ladies with their groceries. Tardiness is unacceptable Kelly."
His hands shook with regret as he replayed the moment. Kelly had deserved the reprimand. What he hadn't deserved was an entire 48-hour shift with a cold-shouldered captain who never called him to the office for a check-in.
"Kelly, just be grateful the McConnicke hasn't come yet. Don't you remember that he's due for a visit today? The very least you could do is have respect for the rest of this crew who all arrived early."
Stumbling to his desk, he fell into his chair. Guilt consumed him, knowing that he didn't have the right to lash out on Kelly because of his own insecurity.
I got angry because I was scared of my chief coming to visit the station. If I can't control myself in my own station, how can I trust myself as a captain, let alone a chief?
It wasn't until a few weeks later, when she stopped by the station with cookies, that he'd learned that this lady was Gladys, Chet's downstairs neighbor. She'd lost her husband to a heart attack a few months earlier. Roy and Johnny had been assigned to that call. Hank himself had been the one to reply to dispatch when the call came in.
How could I not have recognized that address? The guilt ate at him. He hadn't recognized his friend's address, and therefore dismissed Kelly's anxiety as an act of desperation to get out of latrine duty.
Chucking the clipboard into the drawer, he came face to face with John Mancuso's stack of paperwork.
I've failed my men again.
Withdrawn to his desk, Hank didn't hear the rest of the conversation.
"You had that coming Chet. It was one thing to help her with her groceries. It was another to buy her a cup of coffee at that bakery. So, I guess that in a way, you chose to be late. I know you did it out of kindness, but you knew that you were responsible for getting to work on time."
"Yeah, but she's my neighbor and I couldn't leave her alone. She was just so sad that day. It would have been his 76th birthday…" his voice trailed into quiet admission. "You're right Marco. I disregarded my responsibility, even though I had good intentions. Cap was right. If the chief had been here already, it would have reflected poorly on everyone else. I guess I take Cap for granted. His honesty, compassion. He lets me get away with so much because he knows I can do my job. In return, I guess I do disrespect that."
I'm sure Mike has a perfectly reasonable explanation. After all, this is an uncharacteristic occurrence. He's always punctual at worst.
For a few seconds, this honest logic put Hank at ease. A rational man, he could always count on observations and facts to aid him when making judgement calls. The fact was that Mike was never late. Logic would then suggest that if Mike was late, then there must have been an emergency.
Don't panic. Emergencies aren't always bad things; sometimes they are just unexpected events.
He picked up the phone. Even if Mike wasn't there, maybe his wife Hannah would be. He was about to dial the number, but a sense of relief washed over him as a pick-up truck whipped past the window as it drove to the parking lot.
