A House Divided – Chet's Cataclysm
Chapter 5
The alley beside the hair salon was strewn with discarded fast food bags, pieces of old newspapers and various other debris tossed aside by careless people or which blew out of the open trash cans standing sentinel at the street corners. With the exception of the assortment of rodent life, rarely did anyone venture down the darkened corridor except the occasional homeless person in search of a dark quiet place to seek refuge from the elements. The stack of cardboard boxes heaped haphazardly along the walls prevented the local patrons from seeing them as they went about their daily hustle and bustle. The light brown stacks of discarded container board also hid the small bags of garbage left behind by those unwilling to walk the half block distance to the closest city garbage can. No one heard the sizzling and popping noises at the back of the alley and no one saw the tiny orange flame that flickered to life from the transformer high atop the power pole obscured near the dead end street that ran along the back of the salon.
The heat generated by the flame began to do its damage and soon large drops, a mixture of oil and rubber, each adorned with a flame began to slowly drip down amid the litter below. The occasional wind gust swirled the debris around the alley until fate delivered a 'Missing Dog' poster to the mouth of one of the flaming black balls deposited on the broken asphalt. Hungrily, the flame ate its way through the sign, inching delicately toward the next piece of fuel that lay in its path. And no one walking past the alley entrance knew what insidious beast was growing in their midst.
E!
"Harriet! You don't mean it!"
The new redhead looked up from her perch in her beautician's chair. "Why indeed I do, Clara. I heard it from Juanita who got it from Madeline's cousin's brother in law," the brunette leaned forward, much to the exasperation of her stylist. "So you know it must be true!"
A gray haired woman in her late sixties who was leaning back with her head in the washbasin spoke up even though she had not been included in the original conversation. "I heard his wife was seeing that new pastor down at the community church."
The stylist washing her hair stopped massaging her scalp as her eyes bugged out in horror. "No…are you sure? I mean, Pastor Thomas' wife, Arlene, gets her hair done in here every Friday afternoon."
"Well now," the older lady began, clasping her hands around her rotund mid-section. "I'm not one to gossip you know…but I suppose if it's truth then it isn't gossip now is it?"
"No ma'am, I suppose not."
"Well then, all I have to say is that you probably shouldn't ever give an appointment to that floozy, Helen on a Friday afternoon when Mrs. Thomas' is coming in. Now that would just be something for all the nosey busybodies in this neighborhood to talk about." She sat upright as her stylist patted a white towel on her curly gray hair. She angled her round face to the side, lifting her nose in the air and sniffing in an exaggerated manner. "Beatrice?"
"Yes ma'am?" The young girl responded tossing the towel in the half full bin in the corner and reaching for another one.
"When did Mabel start allowing ladies to smoke in this place?"
"Oh, no ma'am…we can't allow anyone to smoke in here," the young stylist corrected. "We have a lot of chemicals and other stuff that's really flammable so…"
"Then what's that I smell?"
E!
Marco pressed his lips into a thin line, a symbolic mixture of frustration and concern for his fellow lineman. He'd watched Chet grimace when he stepped up into his jump seat and although the Irishman's mouth was partially obscured by his thick mustache, the four letter word he silently mouthed was easily recognized by the older man. Now, as they rumbled along the streets with their siren warning of their impending arrival, he couldn't help but wonder what his partner was going through. What demons had taken up residence inside his soul strangling the life out of his normally jovial partner and friend? He briefly stole a glimpse to his left but only saw the back of Chet's head. Obviously, the young man had no desire to even look in Marco's direction. Deep in his gut, he knew that Johnny had done the right thing by going to their captain even if it caused a rift between the men of Station 51. Just as Mike pulled the engine up to the hydrant, Marco decided that he too needed to talk to their captain and fill him in on what he knew. Chet's anger at having the trust between them broken was not nearly as troubling as Marco's concerns for his partner's future.
"Station 51 on scene," Hank's deep voice spoke into the radio.
Chet and Marco dismounted the engine, Marco pulling hose while Chet hit the red and yellow hydrant with a supply line. Pain skipped about inside his body alternating between his head and his right foot but he had a job to do and he was determined to do it to the best of his ability. He blinked his eyes rapidly to clear the blurriness as he connected the supply line to the hydrant and watched for Mike's signal to open it up.
John exited the squad, pulling open the compartment holding his turnouts and quickly pulled the jacket on, adjusting his gloves as he made his way to the place where Mike and Marco stood waiting for instructions. His head swiveled around in search of smoke or flames but saw nothing except the sign above the door. His brain registered the irony of the words in gold and crimson identifying the business and he silently mouthed the name.
Hair Today, Comb Tomorrow
"If Chet doesn't make some lame comment about this place then I'll know something's the matter with him for sure," he said in a loud whisper to the group as they continued their preparations.
Marco's lips quirked up slightly as he gave Johnny a quick nod of agreement. He noted the grimace and head shake Roy gave their engineer when they exchanged knowing glances. Obviously, Roy and Mike did not agree with Johnny and Marco about their fellow shift mate.
Roy looked around at the array of women in black capes, curlers and mussed up hair; each one was in a different stage of the beautification process. On any other day, he would have expected Johnny to make a comment about them but in his present state of mind, Roy knew there would be little if any follow up conversation regarding their frightening appearance.
Hank searched for the owner of the hair salon unsure of who might fit that description. "Ma'am?" He tapped a woman on the shoulder whose hair was neatly pinned in place. "Is everyone out?"
The smeared mascara beneath the young woman's eyes made her green orbs seem to glow. "Yes, I…I just can't imagine what happened. Everything seemed fine and then we…we all smelled something burning."
"Did you see any smoke or flames?" Hank was eyeballing the surroundings as he listened for her answer.
"No…just this sickening burning smell…but we got lots of chemicals in there," she responded pointing a bright pink manicured index finger in the direction of the salon.
"Ok, where's the breaker panel?" Hank figured he knew where the source of the acrid burning smell was coming from but he knew not to take any chances with the supplies in the salon.
"Um…back wall."
No sooner had the words been spoken than Hank spun around on his heels and loped over to his crew, shouting instructions. "Listen up, men…Marco, Chet…lay an inch and half near the doorway and get into position." He turned in a half circle making eye contact with his paramedics. Knowing their skills as medics wouldn't likely be needed at this scene, he gave them a reconnaissance assignment. "Gage, DeSoto…lady here says there're no visible flames or smoke but describes an electrical burning smell…see if you can find the source…circuit breaker panel's on the back wall."
Determination anchored itself on Chet's face as he took the lead on the hose. He waited for Marco to back him up then the two of them moved in unison to position themselves to cool off the interior or knock down the flames – whichever problem presented itself. He had been in this position many times and knew exactly what to do and when to do it. He felt his shirts sticking to his back as perspiration ran down his spine. His vision blurred again as he swiped at the stinging sweat streaming down his forehead between his eyebrows and into the inside corners of his blood shot blue eyes. His ears began to ring when suddenly the hard tapping on his shoulder by his partner drew his attention back to the salon.
Inside, Roy made his way to the back of the elongated building with Johnny on his heels. The senior man removed a glove, lightly taping the metal exterior of the circuit breaker panel just to make sure it wasn't hot. Finding it cool to the touch, he quickly opened it and began shutting off the power to the rest of the salon.
Johnny's eyes scanned the interior of the salon in search of the smoldering menace every firefighter despised. He followed Roy's lead to the back of the salon and while Roy took care of shutting off the breakers, he made his way to the partially opened window. The burning scent became stronger as he got closer to the flapping curtains. His curiosity got the better of him and he stuck his head out of the window and gasped as a ball of black molten rubber seemed to drop from the sky onto the asphalt a few feet away from his head. He tilted his head, eyes squinting as he looked upwards then quickly jerked his head back inside the salon.
"Found it, Roy…transformer flaming up out here," he said nodding his head in the direction of the open window.
Roy reached inside his turnout pocket and withdrew the handy talkie. "HT 51 to engine 51."
"Engine 51, what've ya got, Roy?"
Roy watched Johnny close the window and then followed him back towards the entrance of the salon. "Cap, inside is clear but there's a transformer on fire in the alley on the east side of this building."
"10-4, I'll get dispatch to contact the power company," Hank replied then began shouting orders to the remainder of his crew as he walked over to the engine and keyed up the mic. "LA, engine 51…dispatch the power company to our incident."
"10-4, 51," replied Sam Lanier.
Roy exited the glass door and jogged to his captain. "Cap, there's a lot of trash in that alley…looks like some of it's already burning."
Hank turned to his linemen, "Marco, Chet…hit the alley with some fog…got to get it damp without blasting it around…that transformer's still hot…power company's on the way."
Both men nodded their understanding and began moving the inch and a half around the corner of the building.
"Roy, Johnny…take the back side of the building and make sure there's no hot spots back there. It's windy and I don't want any surprises on the back side of this thing."
"On it, Cap."
"Got it," Johnny echoed his partner as both men headed around the back of the building using the side opposite the alley.
E!
Roy loped to the corner nearest the still smoldering transformer searching for drifting embers and using his boots to stamp out the tiny flames drifting along the back side of the building and sneaking up the deserted alley. Johnny followed suit, grateful that there was only a few such rogue flames rolling about aimlessly in the light breeze. Each man was well aware of the danger zone and remained well beyond the reach of the dripping flames. Eyes like eagles kept glancing upwards ensuring that the power lines attached to the transformer weren't being compromised. Neither man wanted to face hot power lines falling around them; especially with their linemen manning a hose less than fifty yards away.
Roy and Johnny completed their task behind the building in silence then began working their way up the alley. They managed to stay close enough to the buildings on either side of the alley so as not to endanger themselves from the flaming molten drops; both men using their boots to suffocate any smoldering tidbits before they could spread to other areas and cause real damage.
Marco and Chet rounded the corner at the other end of the alley. Johnny locked eyes with Chet as the Irishman grabbed the bell of the nozzle preparing to fog the upper end of the alley, opposite the melting transformer, to wet any trash that might serve as fuel for the burning blobs continuing to drip onto the ancient asphalt.
Chet took a step up on the curb on his way to the alley; the action tearing open the clotted off cuts from his early morning mishap at home. A surge of pain shot up to his knee causing it to buckle just enough to make him stumble forward. In an effort to right himself, he inadvertently pulled back on the bell of the nozzle blasting a straight stream of water directly into the chest of Roy DeSoto.
Marco moved with lightning speed to shut off the hose. Subsequently, he tackled his partner causing him additional pain and earning a muffled 'shit' from the shorter lineman.
Roy, who had been looking at his feet, was caught off guard and stumbled backwards crashing into his partner who quickly grabbed him around the waste and hauled him away from the painful gush of water that had propelled him towards the dying but still dangerous transformer.
"Roy? You a'right?" Johnny asked, pulling up on the hook on the back of Roy's turnout coat.
Roy grimaced as he repeatedly opened and closed his right hand, stinging sensations burning around his knuckles. "Yea…yea," he began regaining his footing and continuing to move toward their destination. "What the hell happened?"
Johnny ignored his partner's questioning eyes. He had seen exactly what had happened but now wasn't the time or the place to discuss it with his unbelieving partner; there would be time for that later.
Marco took control of the charged line while Chet struggled to get back on his feet just as their captain reached them.
"Marco, Chet? You ok?"
Chet responded with a 'sure, Cap' as Marco cut his partner an icy glare. His previous concern for Chet's welfare was quickly being replaced by frustration bordering on anger. In their profession, they had to be able to count on each other and up until a few months ago, Marco had never once questioned one of his comrades. Now, as Chet's uncharacteristic behavior seemed to be getting worse, he no longer knew if the man could be trusted. His earlier decision to talk to Hank had morphed into an outright obligation…not just for Chet but for the citizens whom they served and the rest of their crew.
"Lopez?"
Marco looked up, suddenly realizing he'd never responded to his captain's question. "Fine," he answered through gritted teeth.
"Well, I don't know what happened but the two of you looked like the keystone cops over here. Let's make it a little more professional next time, huh?" Hank growled.
"Yessir," Chet said remorsefully. "Guess our feet got tangled up, right Marco?"
Fury like red hot magma churned through Marco's gut burning in his veins and flaring his nostrils. How dare you try to drag me into your mistake! "Whatever you say," Marco shrugged. I'll deal with you later, Kelly.
Once their job was complete, he shut off the water flow without a word to Chet. He then turned back towards the engine where he caught the worried gaze of his engineer. He watched as Mike gave him an almost imperceptible understanding nod; the unspoken message conveyed between them that they needed to talk later about this incident.
Chet watched as Roy and Johnny made their way down the alley and back towards the engine, careful not to slip on the waterlogged trash. His chest hurt as he thought about what he'd done and he knew he needed to apologize for his error. He walked slowly toward the approaching duo doing his best to hide the limp his secret injury was causing.
"Hey, DeSoto...man, I'm sorry about that…I think mine and Marco's feet just got tangled up somehow and we fell. Uh, are…are you alright?"
Johnny narrowed his piercing eyes at his shiftmate; he had seen Chet stumble and knew that it had nothing whatsoever to do with Marco. He'd overheard Captain Stanley's admonishment of his linemen and wondered how Lopez had managed to remain calm while Chet implicated him in the mishap.
"Yea…I'm ok, Chet. Don't worry about it. These things happen; you didn't mean to do it." Roy dragged the back of his hand across his dripping face, never noticing the look Johnny gave the apologetic man.
Johnny's mind was a mixture of swirling confusion and anger along with a hint of relief that Roy was indeed unharmed. These things happen? Since when? Was his partner so blinded by his desire to stay out of other people's personal business that he couldn't even see what was happening right in front of his eyes while they were on shift? He left Roy and Chet talking on the sidewalk and followed Marco back to the engine.
By the time he caught up with Marco, Mike and Hank were talking to the power company representative and plans were being made to finish up this run and head back to the station. Johnny eased up to Marco's side, "you a'right, Lopez?"
Marco shrugged his shoulders without ever looking up at Johnny. He pulled off his gloves then reached for his canteen; his anger having parched his mouth and throat. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"C'mon, man…I saw what really happened back there…and I heard what that asshole said," Johnny ducked his head, eyes darting around making sure no one else had heard him swear.
Marco took a long draught from the canteen, swishing the water around in his mouth before swallowing. He stared at Johnny momentarily then screwed the cap back on the container before he responded. "If he'd just tripped, I'd've been ok with it. But to lie to Captain Stanley and say that the two of us got tangled up?" Marco shook his head wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand. "I don't get it, John."
Johnny leaned up against the engine peering over Marco's shoulder at Chet and Roy still conversing and smiling as though nothing had happened. He tipped his head back slightly giving Marco a nod to indicate he was about to say something about Chet. "He's over there kissin' Roy's ass now tryin' to make it up to him."
"Well, Roy isn't his only victim."
Johnny returned his gaze to Marco and saw the hurt in the older man's face. He knew all too well how Marco was feeling. True, he was mad at Roy but they could at least work together professionally. He wasn't so sure Marco and Chet could…or that they even should. "You gonna tell, Cap?"
Marco's hesitation answered Johnny's question before his words did. "You know, I think Mike saw what happened too." He knew he was avoiding answering Johnny but he also wanted the paramedic to know that maybe, just maybe, they had gained an ally in their plight. "Yea…yea, I got to….not just for Chet but for all of us."
Johnny patted Marco's shoulder reassuringly. Behind them, Mike stood with one ear listening to Hank and the power company lineman talking while also taking note of how the paramedics and linemen seemed to have aligned themselves and he didn't like the division he was seeing. Station 51's A-shift had always been a tight-knit crew; a family of six brothers. Now, it looked like the family unit might be crumbling around him. He knew that he had to talk to Marco as soon as he could about what happened with the hose. He had overheard Chet's explanation but he also knew what he'd seen…now he just needed confirmation from a couple of other men in the crew and then he'd go to Hank himself.