Chapter 22 #3
“Yes, it is, so be careful. Stay on the grass whenever you can,” Flash advised. They had to cross a slick section of walkway to get to the front door. Flash pounded. “Fire department!”
A partially bald man in a sweat suit answered the door. “Thank goodness! That tree hit our house, and now nothing that runs on gas will work.” He stepped back to let them enter.
Flash glanced around at all the lit candles and tensed.
Any spark—a pilot light, an electrical spark, a static discharge, or even a furnace cycling on—could ignite the escaping gas.
It would immediately become a jet fire, a roaring torch shooting from the broken meter pipe that could catch the massive oak limb, the house, or even the neighborhood on fire.
“Everyone, remain calm,” Flash said in a steady tone.
“The tree branch broke your gas line and meter on the side of your house. My guy is calling to have the gas shut off right now, but, to be safe, I need you to carefully extinguish all those candles and anything else you have burning and exit the residence with Firefighter Flores and me. Is there anyone else in the house?”
Flash looked around and saw the man, a woman of a similar age, and two children.
“It’s just us,” the woman said, tugging the smallest child to her side. The older boy went about quickly blowing out candles.
“The power is out too,” the man said. “That’s why we had the candles lit. Sheila was in the middle of cooking breakfast when the gas on the stove just poofed out.”
“Right after the big bang,” the younger child said as she squeezed her mother’s waist. “It shook the whole house.”
“Candles out,” announced the boy who looked to be around twelve.
“Good,” Flash said. “Now grab your coats and follow Firefighter Flores outside, please.” The family moved as directed, wiggling into coats and tugging on caps as they exited. Flash took another look around, making sure the stove was turned off and all candles out.
Waylon rushed up to her with a wrench in his hand, looking flustered. “I can’t get the nozzle cap open. It’s frozen shut.”
“I’m having trouble getting through to the gas company,” Woods reported. “I keep getting a busy signal.”
“That’s OK,” Flash told him. “Keep trying. Eventually, you’ll get through.”
She glanced over at the enormous limb taking up all the space between this house and the neighbor’s and crunched through the snow for a better view of the broken pipe, the meter half buried under oak and snow.
The mercaptan odor grew stronger, and the escaping gas hissed louder.
They might need the water line if the gas didn’t get turned off soon.
“Waylon, there’s a spray bottle of antifreeze in one of the small compartments on the driver’s side.
Douse the cap and the operating nut, and try again,” Flash said.
Glancing up at the family huddled only six feet from the front door, she called, “Flores, take them across the street until the gas gets shut off.”
Flash navigated the frozen, branch-littered yard to stand closer to the spewing pipe. Smoke rose from the neighbor’s chimney. Her jaw tightened. Until the gas was off, any ignition source posed a threat.
“Adams, got that cap off yet?” she threw over her shoulder.
“Yep,” he replied. “Hooking up now.”
Flash watched the escaping gas spin snowflakes into a mini whirlwind. A gust whipped down the corridor between the houses, sending snow and dead leaves swirling. Waylon tromped up with the charged line. “Ready, and I’ll know to bring the antifreeze to the next one.”
Flash took the nozzle, her hand on the valve. She could feel the pressure’s power filling the hose. It made her feel secure.
“I got through!” Woods hollered. “It’s ringing!”
Flash glanced over her shoulder to see him talking on his cell phone. Then he waved, a smile filling his face. He trotted over, his footing secure. “Any minute.”
The snowflake tornado petered out, and the hissing stopped.
It would take the odor time to dissipate, but Flash felt confident that the danger had passed.
“It’s off!” she called and handed the nozzle to Waylon.
“Put her away,” she said, then laughed. “Wait till I tell everyone at Eight that the mighty Waylon Adams couldn’t pry open a nozzle cap. ”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” he protested as she ducked her face and strode across the yard to talk to the family.
“The gas has been turned off,” she told the bald man.
“I’ll make one more sweep of the house, and then it’ll be safe for you to go back inside.
If you need to use propane or charcoal to cook, make sure you do it outside.
Candles are fine, but don’t try to relight gas appliances until the gas company gives you the all-clear.
I suspect it could be days before they have a repair crew out, so you might want to consider staying somewhere else. ”
He nodded, and the shivering kids cheered.
No sooner had Flash reported Engine Eight available than another call came through.
“Possible carbon monoxide poisoning. Ambulance Eight has also been dispatched.”
This was going to be a long day.