"An Equitable Trade"
Chapter Eight
Edward Greenbough arrived at Station 51 just as his construction company's equipment trucks were arriving on the collapse scene, with the needed building jacks and various other donated shoring materials.
Kelly escorted the billionaire business executive into their kitchen and introduced him to the rest of the crew.
"Captain, I can't tell you how grateful I am, that you have allowed me to join you and your men, here at your fire station." Edward earnestly stated, following four solemn nods and four extremely firm handshakes. "I would have gone crazy waiting alone."
Hank could relate to that. "We're glad to have you, Mister Greenbou—"
"—Edward."
"We're glad you could join us, Edward," the Captain began again. "And, we're all grateful to you, for the supplies. We just watched the trucks pulling up on the TV, there. Chet, since our guest is going to be with us for…awhile, why don't you give him the Grand Tour and help him pick out a bunk."
"Aye, aye, Cap," Kelly eagerly came back. "As you can see, Mi—er, Edward, this area is sort of the station's combination kitchen/rec' room."
Edward's red-rimmed eyes appraised the space. He had never realized just how Spartan a life firefighters were forced to live. 'They could certainly use some creature comforts,' he silently mused and mopped the sweat from his brow. 'An air conditioner, for starters.' He noted that the fire station's kitchen was devoid of 'labor-saving devices', and made a mental note to do something about that.
"Right this way, is the apparatus bay…" Kelly continued, once their guest had completed his reconnoiter of the kitchen.
Edward obligingly followed his tour guide back into the garage.
John Gage was engulfed in agony. The pain had taken his breath away and even helmet-breathing couldn't quite seem to get it back. The panting paramedic picked his hanging head up. "I seem to have…run out of… passion…E.J." he somehow managed to get out, between grimaces and gasps.
John Roderick Gage had a passion for life, itself. So, as long as her young rescuer was alive, he couldn't possibly run out of passion.
The old woman cradled the young fireman's pain-filled face in her hands. "Nonsense, dear! You just need to refocus."
John's entire body went taught and the pained look on his face was instantly replaced by one of concern.
E.J.'s hands were ice cold.
Oh, he needed to refocus, alright! He needed to get his primary patient off that damn chunk of cold concrete before she succumbed to hypothermia! Gage slapped his helmet back on his head, gritted his teeth and somehow managed to draw his left leg back up. Once he'd recovered from that move, he promptly slipped his belt off and then pulled the old woman back onto his half-a-lap. "Wrap the belt…around my wrists…in a figure 8…and then buckle it."
She did.
"There…Now…if either of us…should fall asleep…you…won't fall off."
"Good thinking. Now, tell me…What else are you passionate about?
"Uhhh…bowling."
"I love to bowl! What's your average?"
"Usually, it's in the 180's."
"That's really good! I'm right around 130."
"That's not bad, either. Do you own your own ball?"
"No."
"You really should consider getting one. A ball that fits your hand'll make it easier for you to be consistent, so you can get strikes and pick up spares. You should buy a good pair of bowling shoes, too. You'll slide easier and smoother which enables you to throw the ball better. It, uh, also minimizes wear and tear on your body."
"When we get out of here, and my ankle's all healed, you'll have to help me purchase the proper equipment."
"I'd be happy to."
"What other activities interest you?
"Photography, especially silhouette photography. Just capturing the basic forms leaves so much to the imagination, yah know. I even bought all the chemicals and equipment so I could develop my own negatives. My landlady let me turn a corner of her tool shed into a dark room. I love music, too."
"Playing it? Or listening to it?"
"Both. My album collection is incredible!"
"You have such long fingers…perfect for piano…or guitar?"
"I loved playing my guitar. Practiced every chance I had. Was getting quite good at it, too."
"Was getting?"
"I had to give it to Chet. Yah see, all that strumming causes your fingertips to become really calloused. My fingertips were becoming so calloused I couldn't palpate a patient's pulse, anymore. Worked out okay, though, cuz Chet gave me his uncle's Irish flute. Turns out, I love playing the flute even more than the guitar. Julie heard me playing and commissioned Albert Begay to make me an American Indian flute. So now, I play my flute. A flute's a lot easier to carry around than a big ole guitar, anyway."
"Do you enjoy reading?"
"Funny you should mention that, because books are a passion of mine. In fact, reading is my second favorite indoor activity. I don't generally read non-fiction. But the last two are non-fiction. I just finished Steinbeck's "Travels With Charley" and I just started a book about a guy backpacking through the Grand Canyon, 'The Man Who Walked Through Time.' Turns out, he didn't walk through the entire canyon, though. I just heard on the news that some river guide named Grua, is the first person to ever walk the entire length of the Grand Canyon. He just did it this past year."
"Has reading always been a passion of yours?"
"As far back as I can remember, it has. My parents subscribed to one of those 'Book of the Month' clubs. Our bookshelves were filled with all the literary classics. I used to love reading about King Arthur…and Camelot…and The Knights of the Round Table. I used to imagine I was one of them, and I'd go riding around rescuing all these imaginary people. My Mom, was altruistic, and she was always encouraging us to be public-spirited. One day, she handed me this book of short stories and told me to read it to her. I'll never forget the first time I read Tolstoy's 'The Three Questions'. It was a life-altering experience. 'The most important time is now, because it's the only time we have any power to act. The most important person is the one you are with at the moment, because you may never be with another human being ever again. The most important thing is to do that person good, for that is the sole purpose of man's existence'."
"That's always been one of my favorites, too. Is that what inspired you to become a firefighter?"
"No…no-o. That was my Dad's doing…unintentional, though it was. Yah see, my Father was half Navajo and my Mother was full-blooded Aroyo. So, I grew up on the Aroyo Res'. The entire Aroyo Res' school, from K to 12, only had 275 students. Only me, Alyssa, Arty and Teak were taking college preparatory courses. When we had a final coming up, the four of us'd get together to cram. I'd just got back from fishing and was on my way over to Teak's, to study for a chemistry exam. I was sixteen. But, I'd just completed Driver's Ed and had only had my license for about a week. So I was a little hesitant to ask my Dad if I could borrow his truck keys.
He was even more reluctant to turn them over. But, he finally did toss them to me, along with the constant reminder to 'Drive responsibly, son.'
I assured him I would and headed over to pick up Alyssa. Once she was onboard, we both headed off to pick up Arty.
Between Alyssa's and Arty's, there's this hairpin turn in the road. We rounded the curve and found both lanes had been blocked off by a bad wreck. A gasoline truck and a brand new Dodge Charger had head-on'ed and both vehicles were resting on their roofs. There were flames everywhere! I jumped out and told Alyssa to go back to Mr. McCabe's place and call for help.
I wish I hadn't stayed. Gary DeBruyn, the driver of the gas truck, was dead. At least, I hoped he was dead, because the truck's entire cab was engulfed and he was still in his seat.
The driver of the Charger was still alive—and screaming for help. I couldn't kick the window in so I looked around for a rock or a tree branch—anything that I could use to help me bust that damn window out. I'd just sent Alyssa off with the truck to phone for help. If I hadn't I could a' used the tire iron behind the seat to break through.
I had the power to act, still, I'd never felt so powerless in my entire life. My one big chance to really rescue someone—and I blew it. My hands got a little burned and I managed to fracture the distal ends of both my right tibia and fibula. But I couldn't save that poor guy. I kept thinkin' 'If we'd a' gone around that curve, just a few seconds sooner, that could a' been me and Alyssa being burned alive...'
After she phoned for help, Alyssa had gone to get my Dad.
Man, the look on his face when he saw the accident scene. And then me, sitting in the back of that ambulance, with both hands wrapped and my right leg in a splint… He was so-o relieved to see me alive. You ever been bear-hugged by an ironworker?" John found it most amusing that his companion couldn't come up with an immediate answer.
"No," E.J. finally replied, right before hugging the fireman herself. It just seemed to her that the young man needed a hug right then.
The amusement immediately vanished from J.R.'s face. "I tell yah, E.J., not saving someone's life is the absolute worst feeling in the world. I couldn't eat…I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I would relive the nightmare. I could hear that guy scream in my dream and I would wake up screaming, myself.
My Father finally hauled me down to the fire station in San Jacinto, to be empowered. They showed me how to gain access to a locked vehicle. They also told me that, even if I had managed to break that window, I still wouldn't have been able to get the guy out. They said he was pinned in there so bad, it took five of them 15 minutes to get him out—and they had all their extrication tools with them. I asked them to show me around their fire station, so I could see the rest of their equipment."
J.R.'s grin put in another appearance. "Those poor guys had no idea what they were getting themselves into.
Their table was square instead of round and they wore drab, canvas coats instead of shining armor. But they were 'knights', all right. And I knew, right then, that I was gonna be joining their ranks.
I spent every free moment—for the next year-and-a-half—down at that fire station, learning everything I possibly could about the Fire Service. They tolerated all my questions and went out of their way to train me. What a great bunch a' guys!
When Julie left for college, my Dad decided I couldn't live on the Res' alone. Besides, he wanted me to apprentice under him. So, he moved the two of us to Riverside. I hated the city. But, there was another Camelot/Fire station just a few blocks from our new place. That firehouse quickly became my 'home away from home', too.
My Dad's plan was for me to spend all of my free time apprenticing under him, with any money I made going to help pay for my college tuition.
'Fathers take their sons to work day.' That was a pretty gosh darn unforgettable experience. Standing 27 stories off the ground—on just a 10-inch wide beam of steel—with twenty-five mile an hour wind gusts. I had a life-belt on and I was secured to the beam, but it still scared the cra—living daylights right outta me!
After Dad died, I had to move in with my relatives, back in San Jacinto, so I could finish my senior year.
A few weeks after graduation, I was standing on the front steps of the Los Angeles County Fire Academy."
"Guess you could say, that's when you got engaged, huh."
J.R. smiled and nodded. "My firehouse friends, back in Riverside, had helped me send in applications to several different firefighting academies. I was accepted at three. I chose L.A. County, because they were doing the most hiring, at the time. I kept the lifebelt but traded the tag lines, spud wrenches and drift pins for fire hoses, airpacs and…medical equipment."
"Obviously, a marriage made in heaven," the old woman continued to tease.
J.R.'s smile broadened. "My partner was the first one to point that out. He claims that, in a way, we both ended up marrying our childhood sweethearts.
Not saving someone's life may be the worst feeling in the world. But, saving someone's life is the best feeling in the wor—" a faint whining sound caused him to cut his comment short. He'd recognize that whine anywhere. "You hear that? That's a K-12!" he proudly pointed out, with a grin that lit the collapse void up even more than their flashlight's beam.
"That is music to my ears," E.J. quietly corrected, and then silently added another, 'Please…hurry!'
TBC