Chapter 3- This Means Serious Trouble

Celeste had a sprained ankle; minor burns and a mild concussion. We were all relieved, knowing that it could've been much worse. She had to stay at Tim's for the night just to be safe, but she seemed to be just like her old self.

"Full name?" Tim tested her memory one more time.

"Celeste Amelia Wright", she recited in a bored tone. "Date of birth: November fourth 1995. Parents' names: Edward and Rebecca. Year: 2016."

Tim chuckled. "Well, obviously, you're feeling better."

When she was officially discharged, I helped her home. She was hobbling on crutches with both of her arms bandaged and a cloth attached to her forehead (Tim would have given her a Band-Aid, but Celeste is allergic to Band-Aids).

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine", she insisted, looking and sounding annoyed.

"Just checking." I raised my hands defensively. "You're hurt and I heard you get told off by Dottie and your mom." Both she and Dusty had been reprimanded for their reckless actions the night before. Though, it was clear that both of them felt bad enough as it was, so they got off lightly.

Celeste shrugged. "I'm used to it, I guess."

"I don't think I could ever get used to it", I voiced my opinion, remembering how awful it feels to feel like a disappointment, a failure.

Someone else who felt like a disappointment and failure was Mayday. I felt helpless watching as some officials set up cones and tape around the Fill 'N' Fly and stood before him, not looking very happy. Poor Mayday looked very nervous and much older than I had ever seen him look. Tim was nearby, waiting to answer any questions that they might have. His wife, Marge, had her head in her hands and looked like she was about to cry.

We- Dusty, Chug, Skipper, Sparky, Dottie, Celeste, Rebecca, Emma, Mom and I- watched anxiously. We all wished that there was something that we could do for Mayday, but we knew that the best thing we could do was keep our mouths shut and hope for the best.

"TMST?" Chug read the letters on the officials' side uncertainly.

"This Means Serious Trouble": Sparky murmured.

"Transportation Management Safety Team", Dottie clarified.

"I'm sure that this is all routine", Mom explained. I hadn't been sure what happened next, so I was sure that she was right about that; emergencies almost never happened in Propwash Junction. The last one was twenty-three years ago, when a tornado came through town and my dad died. "Everything will be just fine."

I prayed that she wasn't wrong. She never has been about things like that.

"Mr. Mayday", the official- Ryker, according to his badge- began seriously. "Were you at the specified point of attack and applying an extinguishing agent within three minutes of the time of alarm?"

"Well, I didn't have time to look at a clock.", Mayday replied nervously, very aware of the forklift scribbling on a clipboard. "Is... is that guy writing down everything I say?"

"Yes."

"Well, I..." Mayday stuttered. "So he just wrote that down?"

"Yes."

"And that?"

"Yes."

"And that?"

"Yes."

The poor old fire truck sighed.

"Dr. Jankovski." Ryker beckoned him forward. "I understand that a civilian was injured."

"That's correct", Mayday confirmed, unable to meet the TMST agent's eyes.

"Dr. Jankovski, can you elaborate?"

Tim consulted his clipboard. "Twenty-year-old human female. Minor burns and mild concussion. She also suffered a sprained ankle from the crash that caused the fire. I have the records here if you-"

"That won't be necessary", Ryker stated simply. "Thank you, Dr. Jankovski. No more questions" He shifted his glare back to Mayday as Tim left. "Can you provide me with your self-inspection records and emergency procedure plans?"

"Oh, look, now, we don't have many emergencies around here", Mayday explained with a weak laugh. "Besides, we did get the fire out."

"Is that your contingency plan, Mr. Mayday?" Ryker countered, not sounding the slightest bit impressed. "Every time there's an incident you topple a water tower? Did it ever occur to you that the victim could've been seriously injured by this method?"

"There was no other way to get the fire out." Mayday's voice was just above a whisper now.

"Was there a problem with your hose?"

Well, this didn't sound good.

I guess that's why Dusty felt the need to speak up. "This is my fault. I clipped the tower. I flew out last night because I…" He sighed and slumped down. "I never meant to start the fire. I never meant for Celeste to get hurt. And I never meant to get Mayday into trouble either."

Celeste hobbled over and patted his wing comfortingly. "Dust, I was out there with you, remember? We both knew you weren't supposed to be racing. I'm as much to blame as you are."

"Kids, it was an accident.", Mayday began, only to be interrupted by Ryker clearing his throat.

"It's clear this airport has no plans for an emergency and equipment from last century. So, unless Mr. Mayday gets refurbished and acquires a second firefighter, in accordance with CFR title fourteen, volume three, chapter one, section one-three-nine, sub-paragraph B, I am pulling this airport's Certificate of Operation for noncompliance of rescue and firefighting regulations!"

I felt my heart sink into my shoes.

"Oh, Chevy", Mayday murmured.

And the forklift jotted that down.