Left…..The Other Left
(snippets & scenes from the Engine Cab)
Another installment in the Window In Time Series
by Clearing Sky
Extensive repairs to the plumbing system and underground fuel tank sees the entire complement of Station 51 temporarily rehoused at Station 116. This would not be a response problem if 51s and 116s weren't situated in opposing directions, which is easy to forget when you're called out at 3 am…
(published April 4, 2022 | "Emergency!" characters belong to Mark VII + Universal. Original characters are mine. Please do not use without permission)
[Because we all need a LOT of levity right about now… ]
"Engine 51, rubbish fire. 434 La Casa place. 4-3-4 La Casa Place. Cross street, Kitchner. Time out: 1:47."
Stifling a yawn, Mike boarded Big Red as Marco, Chet and Cap got in. "Remember, Stoker, we're not at 51s, so you gotta think backward," Cap reminded his engineer as he swung himself onto the Officer's Seat.
"Okay, Cap."
Stoker pulled the rig forward, looked both ways, then swung his girl wide, heading off to the right. A quick glance at his captain saw said captain pull a narrow-eyed grimace at him. "Stoker, what'd I just say?"
"La Casa's that way," Stoker pointed ahead of them as the sirens wailed down the darkened street.
"Yeah. If we were at 51s!"
Oh. Yeah. Shit. Stoker threw Stanley an apologetic look.
"Ai yai," Stanley breathed, shaking his head.
"Where the hell you goin', Stoker?" Kelly yelled over the road noise and siren.
"Hush, Kelly, or I'll make you drive," Stoker threatened.
"Oh, can I?"
"No!" came three very firm voices.
"Engine 51, overturned vehicle with fuel spill. Harbor Freeway, southbound, near the Main St. Exit. Harbor Freeway, southbound, near Main St. Exit. Time out: 2:53."
Stoker felt sluggish, pulling on his bunkers in the makeshift dorm of Station 116. It took him a second to remember what direction the door was and he followed Marco out to Big Red.
Mike donned his bunker jacket and climbed aboard as Cap Stanley did the same. With Marco and Chet aboard, Stoker pulled out of the makeshift "apparatus tent" and out onto the dark road.
Captain Stanley stared at Mike for several seconds, looked out at the pools of light and dark that dotted the road, the reflection of their emergency light bouncing off the buildings they passed, then back at Mike.
Out of the corner of his eye, Stoker saw Cap shift in his seat toward him. That was never a good sign. Shit, now what?
"Mike?"
"Yeah, Cap?" Hitch breath…..
"You, uh, you plan on driving over the median on the freeway to get to the scene?"
Stoker threw his captain a quizzical look.
"Didn't dispatch say 'southbound'?" Cap Stanley asked.
"Yeah, Cap."
"Then why're you headed toward the northbound on-ramp?"
Blink. Think. Dammit! Stoker deflated and turned onto a side road to head back the other way.
"Engine 51. Assist Engine 110 at their incident. Possible fuel leak. 862 Encito Avenue. 8-6-2 Encito. Cross street, Alcala. Time out: 08:17."
"Mike!" Cap growled in annoyance as he slapped a hand on his thigh.
Stoker realized at just the last moment that he'd pulled out of the driveway going in the wrong direction. "Sorry, Cap. Second-guessed myself." Stoker straightened up in the seat, determined not to allow this mistake to break him as he found a spot to turn around. "But really, it all depends on your perspective, Cap."
"I see. How is that, exactly?" Captain Stanley laid on the fake-intrigued voice awfully thick.
"Yeah, Cap, I'm with Stoker on this one," Chet piped up.
"In case you guys hadn't noticed, we're firemen on our way to a call. We're not on a tour of the Getty Art Museum."
"Are you suggesting we're one-dimensional, Cap? That that's all there is to us, as human beings? That that's all we have to offer?" Kelly asked with a philosophical air.
"I'm suggesting that if Stoker, here, can remember where the station is on our way back, that the both of you will be offered latrine duty on our next shift to get to know our new home, better. Does that sound 3-dimensional enough, for you?"
Kelly sighed. "Sure, Cap."
"Thanks, Chet."
"Hey, I was on your side, Mike."
"Think I prefer being alone."
"Stoker….!"
"I think he's headed home."
"Hush, Lopez, or I'll make you drive and heckle you from the jumpseat," Mike threatened.
"At least we'd get there," Marco retorted with a grimace.
Stoker glared daggers at Stanley who unsuccessfully stifled a snort. "Boy, you guys really know how to kick a guy when he's down," Mike complained.
"I'm with you, Mike," Chet offered.
"No thanks, Kelly. Not after you got me in trouble last time."
"Who me?" Kelly mock-whined.
"Stoker?"
"Yeah, Cap?"
"You, uh, you actually planning on turning around at some point so we can get to the scene sometime before lunch?"
"Chapter 12 of the Engineer's Manual. Regulations are clear. 'Operation of the vehicle shall not be hindered by back seat driver wise asses in the rig'.
"You calling your captain a wise ass, there, Stoker?" Stanley's voice was dangerously jovial.
"You're in the front. You don't count."
Stanley reached out and patted Mike on the shoulder. "Good save, there, pal."
"Thanks, Cap," Stoker inwardly sighed with relief as he ducked down a side street to turn around.
"Go left, go left!"
"It's that way, Cap!"
"No, it's not. Jefferson is back that way!"
"It's to the right, Cap. See, we're passing that burger stand. I told you."
Stoker saw a police cruiser up ahead. "You want me to stop alongside, Cap, so you can ask directions?"
"Shut up."
Stoker winced at the backhanded thwack on his arm, yet his smug smile never fully left his face.
"Michael, do you need me to drive?"
"If you're willing to give me your paycheck, Cap."
"Alright, from now on, when Stoker drives in the wrong direction, he gets to shine someone's shoes."
"Aw, c'mon, Cap…" Stoker sighed with pronounced irritation, wishing he'd remembered which stations had vacancies for an engineer.
"And we all yell shoeshine!" Chet suggested.
"Shoeshine!" the Engine crew yelled. Stoker took a deep breath and threw his captain the Evil Eye.
"Station 23, Station 110, Engine 116, Engine 51, structure fire. Tino's Lumberyard. 79 Turlock Avenue. 7-9 Turlock Avenue. Cross street, Bellinger. Time out: 23:47."
Stoker pulled Big Red forward just as 116s engineer, Paul Kettrick, similarly nudged Engine 116 onto the driveway apron, lights flashing. Stoker stopped and waited for 116s to move out.
Captain Stanley stole a glance at Stoker, who answered him with, what anyone else would have seen as, a noncommittal expression. But he knew his engineer and saw the Oh hell please no panic in his eyes. Stanley gestured to 116 to pull out first, in an outward attempt to avoid a collision. But Kettrick motioned for them to go ahead, then gestured next to him. Evidently, they were waiting on Captain Bolivar.
Stanley waved acknowledgment, then turned to Stoker with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, Mike, you're up."
Shit. Mike grimaced, waved to Kettrick, pulled forward ever slowly to give himself a second to determine a direction, then went right.
"Left, left! The other left!" Stanley growled, gesticulating madly as he pointed left.
Dammit! Stoker shot his captain a sheepish look. "Sorry, Cap."
"Ai yai…" Stanley mumbled.
"Engine 116 to 51," came the call over the radio.
"51," Stanley answered, piercing Stoker with a laser glare.
"Hank, where you guys headed?" Captain Bolivar.
"Art, we're gonna try to come in from the south."
"10-4, 51."
Stanley set the radio back in the casing. "Mike, we have got to get you oriented. You know I can't keep running interference for you. If this keeps up, those guys are gonna figure it out in no time."
"I know, Cap. Spent all of our downtime today staring at the map."
"Yeah, we even helped him," Marco gestured between himself and Chet.
"And…?" Stanley asked.
"Let's just say there's still room for improvement," Chet yelled over the road noise and siren.
"Well, keep workin' at it or we'll be the laughingstock of the entire department."
"I think we're passed that point," Marco pointed out.
"Let's try to generate a little optimism, huh, boys?' Captain Stanley answered, refusing to give in to defeat. "For the next week, Mike, I want you to do nothing but memorize that map!"
"Aye, aye, Cap."
Captain Stanley stuck his neck in to the kitchen at 116s to see his Engine crew on clean-up. "Fellas? We've got that pre-plan at that new strip mall on Veritas. Let's go."
The Engine crew dropped their cleaning supplies and clambered aboard the rig but the action seemed to have stopped, at that point. Cap Stanley twisted and turned in the Officer's Seat, checking to see that Chet and Marco were aboard. Despite the presence of his crew and the slight vibrations of the engine, he was even less clear why they hadn't moved. He stared somewhat incredulously at his engineer for a moment, then gestured toward the road. "Well?"
Stoker simply looked at his captain with a neutral look, his hands in his lap.
Eyes rolling, Stanley breathed out and leaned back against the seat. He turned slightly in thought. "Left."
Setting his hands atop the steering wheel, Mike released the brakes, pulled out toward the street, sounded the air-horn to warn any traffic, and slowly lumbered Big Red across the lane and turned left.
"Aw, dammit, it's to the right!" Stanley slapped his knee.
Stoker lanced Cap with a deadly glare and turned the rig onto his favorite side-street to turn around. "My shoes are starting to look worn, Cap," Mike said, his eyes firmly on the road.
Stanley shot a wide-eyed glance at him then Cap settled back against the seat, defeated. "Yeah…."
A pleasant smile settled on Mike's features.
Stoker hiked up into the cab as Captain Stanley did the same next to him. But Stanley did a double-take toward his engineer when he sensed Stoker had stopped moving. "What?"
Stoker nodded toward the steering wheel. Resting against the inside windshield in front of the steering wheel was a handwritten, white sign with black lettering in something resembling the handwriting of a child: " {- West | East -} "
"Did you do that?" Stanley asked.
"Kettrick."
"You think?"
"Probably."
"Wiseguy," Stanley muttered, half amused.
"What?" Chet and Marco asked in unison, craning their necks to see into the cab.
Stoker pointed.
"Oh, this is war," Chet proclaimed, rubbing his hands together.
"Now, Chet…" Stanley warned.
"Oh, I don't mean that, literally, Cap. The Phantom just didn't realize they were so ripe for the picking."
"Well, alright, but don't get too carried away. Remember, this isn't even our house. We're guests, remember?"
"Hard to forget when they pull a stunt like that," Marco commented with a grimace.
"Right on, Marco," Chet agreed.
"Well, let's go shopping. I'm hungry," Stanley ordered.
Mike fired up the engine and pulled out onto the road.
"You guys think John and Roy have this much trouble?" Marco wondered aloud.
"Doubt they'd tell us," Mike surmised.
"True," Lopez answered.
~~ Later in the kitchen, as dinner was cooking….
"Hey, Roy, uh, you guys ever get turned around when you get called out?" Marco bit into a celery stick.
Roy lowered the paper. "What do you mean?"
"Well, like get your directions mixed up when you leave the station," Stanley clarified.
"Oh, because 51s faces opposite? Well, the first week we were here, yeah, there were a couple of times we went the wrong direction out of habit, you know, but, uh, no, no we've been doing real well ever since—"
Johnny stifled a snort but kept reading his book.
Roy stared at him for a moment. "Uh, you know, uh, ever since. It's been real smooth sailing—"
Johnny choked on a guffaw and walked out.
"Scuse me," Roy rolled the paper into a tube, rose from his chair and followed after his partner, wherein an audible 'ow' was heard in the apparatus bay.
"Yup. No problems 'tall," Stanley mused to himself and turned the page of the portion of the paper he was reading.
Mike glanced with some trepidation at the entirely unamused expression on his captain's face, as he, yet again, got himself turned around. He moved Big Red onto a now-familiar side-street to head back in the other direction as he mentally rifled for an explanation. The positive side to all of this was that he was gaining more confidence in his pre-emptive sarcastic retorts to his captain. "Just seeing if you were awake, Cap."
"Uh huh. I'm more concerned that you're awake."
"That was never part of our training, Cap."
Stanley deflated back into the Officer's Seat and rolled his eyes. "Why me?"
"What was it last time? Left versus right?" Captain Stanley asked.
"Yup."
"Alright, back versus front, it is. Chet, Marco?"
"We say left, Cap." Marco piped up.
"Alright. Left up here, too. Go, Mike."
"Uh, Cap?"
"What is it, Chet?"
"What if we're all wrong?"
"Think positive, will ya?" Stanley pleaded.
"Shoeshi-!"
The air-horn blasted.
"Alright, every time Stoker goes the wrong way, Kelly gets cooking duty."
"Why are you punishing us, Cap?" Marco asked with defeat in his voice.
"Well, now, hold on, Marc. My cooking is a light at the end of the unhealthy tunnel that you all live in," Chet explained.
"No. Your cooking is the train that comes in to the tunnel and kills all of us. If I'm gonna die, Chet, I'd like my last meal to taste spectacular."
"Marco's got a point," Mike agreed.
"Thanks, Mike. So, again, I ask, Cap, why're you punishing the rest of us?" Marco reiterated, feeling emboldened by Mike's support.
"Because I'm the captain."
"That's it. I'm transferring to C-shift with Hookrader."
"I'm with Marco," Stoker offered.
"What about me?" Chet asked.
"You can stay with Cap and drive each other crazy," Marco offered.
"Wait a minute. You guys're gonna leave me alone with him?" Stanley whined, thumbing back toward Chet.
"Don't worry, Cap. In time, you'll learn to love each other," Marco comforted.
"I'll be dead before then."
"Aw, c'mon, Cap, we'll have a great time. We'll sing songs and regale each other with scary chief stories while I make us a delicious healthy dish of cream of cauliflower soup."
Stanley looked skyward. "Why me?"
"Engine 51, Station 116, Engine 110, third alarm assignment. Structure fire. Cecilia's Nails and Salon. 4721 Hibiscus Road. 4-7-2-1 Hibiscus. Cross street, Upton. Time out: 01:13."
51s and 116s nudged ahead toward the road. Stoker stopped, giving 116s room to move ahead.
Kettrick glanced over to 51s and, palm up, swept his hand forward in an 'after you' gesture.
Stanley gestured for them to go first.
As Kettrick eased the rig forward, he moved his hands back and forth as if steering in a "this way or that way" gesture, pointed at Stoker, flashed a comic expression and laughed before turning on the light and siren and pulled out onto the road.
Grimacing, Mike turned on the lights and siren and followed.
"Boy, that guy really gets under your skin, doesn't he?" Stanley grumbled.
"You gonna just take that, Stoker?" Chet asked, sounding a little annoyed.
Stoker kept his eyes on the road, belying the plots he was devising….
~~ Later, back in Quarters:
Heading toward the kitchen, Mike and Captain Stanley passed Kettrick muttering to himself as he vacuumed the cab of Engine 116. The vacuum whined down as Kettrick turned it off. "Hey Stoker, you guys get glitter in your rig?"
The men of 51s shuffled to a stop. "Yeah, a little," Mike answered. "Didn't take too long to clean out, though. Why?"
Kettrick waved his hand at the cab in a gesture of irritation. "We got a whole boatload of the stuff in here. Every time I vacuum, I find more of it. Stuff gets everywhere and there's no way to get rid of it."
"Well, good luck," Stoker answered.
Kettrick waved acknowledgment, hit the vacuum on again and returned to his cleaning duties.
Cap and Stoker made their way into the kitchen where Stanley saw the satisfied look on Stoker's face. Cap looked around clandestinely and leaned in toward Mike. "You, uh, you know something about that, Mike?"
Mike looked around, "Remember the mounds of glitter scattered all over the ground that we found during overhaul…?"
Stanley's eyes widened as he stifled a chuckle. "You didn't…" he said under his breath.
Mike grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table, threw Cap a knowing look and walked back out. Stanley admittedly couldn't keep the grin off his face and he shook his head as he, too, nabbed an apple and tossed it into the air.
Maybe their stint here at 116s won't be so bad, after all…