"A Heavenly Cause"
Chapter Two
Twenty minutes later…
Roy pulled their rescue squad up to the corner of West Salisbury and Prescott and parked.
The intersection was filled with people.
With the air temperature standing at close to 110 degrees, the neighborhood's residents were seeking relief from the heat by standing in the cool refreshing spray of a partially opened fire hydrant. Some had donned swimsuits, but most were just wearing street clothes.
A group of small children was crowded around the hydrant. The kids were splashing each other and having a high old time.
As cars passed the partyers, they flicked their wipers on and honked.
The two patrolling paramedics exchanged a couple of glum glances and reluctantly exited their fire truck.
A young man sporting bright red swim trunks and a six-pack of beer spotted the hydrant tool in the blond fireman's hand and sprang up out of his lawn chair. "Hey, man! Don't do that! Can't you see we're havin' fun?"
Roy ignored the young man's plea and continued to approach the hydrant amid 'boos' and jeers and a variety of other hurled insults.
"Give us a break, will yah?" the young man re-pleaded.
Roy attached the tool in his hands and started cranking the hydrant valve closed, terminating its refreshing shower. "We have a serious problem maintaining water press—"
"—Can't THEY just increase the pressure, or somethin'?" the protester cut in.
"The system isn't geared to handle that," Gage patiently explained. "It could damage residential pressure valv—"
"—Give us a break, will yah!" the complainer cut in again, remaining unconvinced.
Roy locked gazes with the grumpy young guy. "If you were all trapped in a burning building, and we couldn't save you…because a bunch a' people were using the water to have a little fun…and there was no pressure in the lines to supply water to our fire hoses…you might understand. You just might understand," he softly repeated and picked up the pipe wrench that was leaning against the hydrant.
The young man was now just standing there, staring thoughtfully down at the damp ground beneath his bare feet.
"We'd appreciate it if you wouldn't turn this back on when we leave," Roy solemnly requested.
The silenced young man nodded his compliance. "Don't worry. I'll watch it. I'm sorry. I guess we just weren't thinking."
The blond fireman flashed him back an appreciative smile. "Must be the heat," he reasoned lightly and passed the young fellow the pipe wrench.
The young man returned the fireman's smile but kept the tool.
"I still think the cops should be doing this," Gage griped as they began trudging back over to their truck. "I mean, they're already pretty unpopular with the public."
"Sticks and stones," Roy reminded him, following a weary roll of his eyes.
"It ain't the names I'm worried about," John assured him. "It's the pipe wrenches and empty beer bottles."
"You could always put in for hazard pay."
"The thought has crossed my mind. Or, at least, start wearing our helmets."
Roy's right eyebrow arched. "That's actually not a bad idea."
The firemen slid themselves into their seats and their helmets onto their sweaty heads and then reluctantly resumed their hydrant patrol.
Two and a half steaming, stressful hours later…
Roy backed the Squad into its parking bay and killed its hot engine.
Hank and Marco stepped out into the garage to greet them.
"How'd it go?" their Captain inquired.
"Four," Roy replied. "We ran into Chet and Mike over on Chelsea. They said they found three. What about you guys?"
"Eight," Stanley announced.
"Eight?!" John exclaimed in amazement.
Marco nodded. "And we needed police assistance to shut two of them off."
John shot his partner a 'See?' look.
"The beer was flowing as fast as the hydrants," their Captain explained and pointed to a slight tear in his front shirt pocket.
Stoker and Kelly entered the back door and came stepping up.
"We found two more," Mike informed them, "for a total of five."
The Captain acknowledged his engineer's report with a slight nod and turned back to his paramedics. "We were going west on Salisbury when we found a wet intersection and some guy sitting in a lawn chair 'guarding' a hydrant…"
Roy shrugged. "It was his idea, not ours."
"And it's a good idea, too," Kelly conceded. "Because I got a feeling those five hydrants we just shut off are back on again. How do you get through to people like that?"
"You wait until their homes burn to the ground with their loved ones inside," Roy bitterly replied. "Then it sinks in pretty easily."
The guys exchanged grim glances.
The visitor's buzzer sounded. No one moved.
Hank emitted a resigned sigh and headed off to answer it himself.
The Captain's overheated crew headed for their rec' room and some liquid refreshments.
Stanley came strolling in a few moments later. He shoved the shoe boxes aside and deposited a handful of envelopes onto their kitchen table.
"The mail?" Marco questioned. "This late?"
The Captain dropped into a chair to begin sorting through their late mail. "He said the regular postman collapsed in this heat and that he's sorry he's so late but he doesn't know the route. Marco…"
Lopez snatched the letter from his boss' raised right hand.
"John, two for you, pal…"
Gage grabbed his correspondence and collapsed onto the chair beside his Captain.
"Chet…"
Kelly latched onto his letter and noted the Marquette, Michigan postmark. "Vicki!" he gleefully exclaimed and kissed the envelope.
Gage glanced up from his letter. "She still writing you?"
"Twice a week!" Kelly replied with a smug smile. "I'm going back there when my next vacation comes up."
John's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious!"
Chet's smug smile broadened. "You wanna come with?"
"No!" John assured him.
Marco was equally mystified by his friend's choice of vacation spots. "Why would you ever want to go back to that god-forsaken place?"
Mike glanced up from his mail. "Maybe he just has a thing for snow?"
"Yah mean, maybe he just has a thing for Vicki," John corrected and watched Chet's cheeks redden.
Kelly turned to Stoker. "When I go back this time, there won't be any snow."
Mike looked incredulous. "According to Newcomb, there is always snow in Upper Michigan. He claims they have nine months of winter and three months of bad snowmobiling."
His shiftmates exchanged grins.
The Captain gathered up the remaining envelopes and then headed for his air-conditioned office, to open his mail and place their fire station back in service.
Kelly remained undeterred. "Yeah? Well, what's wrong with snow? It's a nice change of scenery..and weather. I'll bet they don't get droughts and heat waves up there. Man! I still get a chill just thinking about the cold. Vicki and I went for a walk along the Lake Superior shoreline. You should have seen the incredible ice sculptures the waves made when they hit and froze. We were so cold, we had to hold each other for warmth…and when we kissed, our lips were blue and our teeth were chatter—"
"—And your brains were frostbitten," Mike summed up, before their love-sick crewmate's comments could get any more explicit.
His chums were forced to chuckle.
"No," Kelly quickly came back. "But we did have frost on our eyelashes…and the snowflakes tickled our noses," he shivered. "Man! I really do get cold just thinking about it."
"If thinking about Michigan would make me cool off," Marco chimed in, "I'd be thinking about Michi—"
The remainder of the lineman's comment was drowned out by the claxons.
The guys guzzled down the remainder of their cool, refreshing beverages and began trotting toward the garage and their trucks.
"Station 12, Station 51, Battalion 10, Truck 123…Structure fire…1422 West Gaylord…One-four-two-two West Gaylord…Cross-streets: Otis and Aliverra…Ambulances responding…Time out: 15:33."
Hank had just placed them back in service so he was still standing at the call station when the tones sounded. He gave the mic's send button another click and acknowledged the call. "Station 51, KMG-365." He handed his senior paramedic a copy of the call slip and then joined his engine crew.
Both trucks exited the station and went wailing off in the direction of their structure fire call with their warning lights flashing.
Less than five minutes later, and fewer than three blocks from the fire scene, 51's crew came upon Ladder 123. The truck was stalled right in the middle of the roadway.
The Captain motioned for Big Red's driver to pull up beside the stationary rig.
"What's wrong?" Hank called out to the ladder truck's engineer.
The driver shrugged. "Must be electrical, cuz everything just died. Tow truck's on the way."
Stanley nodded and motioned for Stoker to get going again.
Sixty seconds later, Station 51 arrived on scene.
Billowing black smoke and flames were visible from the B side of the red-brick building's third floor.
Steady streams of occupants were exiting its two main entrances.
Stanley snatched up their dash-mounted radio's mic' and thumbed its call button. "L.A., Station 51. You can show us on scene," he informed the dispatcher.
"10-4, Station 51."
Before stepping down, 51's Captain took a few moments to survey the structure on fire.
Judging by the conjoined rooflines and the overhead skywalk, someone had apparently turned a couple of old hotels into an apartment complex.
The fire officer frowned.
If the structural renovation hadn't been done right, the whole place could turn into one big death-trap.
Hank saw arriving companies' crews carrying hotel packs into the building and exhaled an audible sigh of relief.
The hoses meant they had water.
They may have lost their ladder truck, but at least they still had water…for now.
Stanley finally dropped to the ground and went trotting up to Battalion 10's Chief to receive their station's assignment.
TBC