TWO
Redford
You’d think people would get tired of blowing off fingers and lighting their houses on fire but both have always been quite popular in Cedar Spring. But hey, it could be worse.
A million stars light up the night sky, their reflection dancing on the lake as the tiniest waves lap at the shore. I couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
The guys I trained with all scattered, flocking to the excitement of city life, where every call brings something new. Maybe they’re right, maybe I was built for something more than a simple existence in an easy town. If I was, then I’m happy to break the mold.
We roll into the station before the rest of the crew, which means it’s on us to cook supper. Who would’ve thought we’d recover four fingers quicker than they could put out a garage fire? The pinkie was blown halfway across the street, he’s lucky we didn’t run it over.
Sounds like they’re done knocking down the flames, they’re just milking it at this point, lazy bastards.
They always do this when they want me to make my famous chili.
It’s the brown sugar that puts it head and shoulders above the competition, in the chili itself and mixed into the dollop of sour cream I put on top.
With the giant kitchen window overlooking the lake, I don’t mind cooking. I could watch the faint silhouettes of mountains carving up the speckled sky all night. If there’s chili involved, even better.
Before we can slip out of our gear, another call rings throughout the firehouse. Cushing Island? That has to be a false alarm. I’m surprised the preserve hasn’t bought up the abandoned island by now. That place looked decrepit a decade ago.
“Lieutenant, you want us to wait for the rest of Squad?”
“Nah, probably kids lighting off fireworks out there. Tourist saw flames from the ferris wheel and called it in. Nice night to get out on the water. Take the old boat, just in case a real call comes in.”
“Copy that. Lieutenant, if they do chili without me, make sure they put in the brown sugar, none of you are going to like it without. Alright, boys, let’s make some waves.”
You’d think being right on a mountain lake, we’d get to take the boats out more than we do.
They come in clutch when we need to get into coves that would take longer to reach by road but boat rescues are fairly rare.
Better not to dirty up our shiny new toy for nothing, so we’ll take Old Yeller out for a spin.
“Well, she still floats,” I chuckle as we pull up to the marina, cutting the unnecessary siren.
“You sure we can’t take the Roanoke?” Davis whines, drooling over the giant beauty that dwarfs our 24 footer. “This thing belongs in a museum. I swear to god, if I have to swim back…”
He trails off when he sees the same thing Charlie and I do, a light on Cushing Island that doesn’t belong. I’ll be damned, is there really a fire out there?
“Probably someone camping,” I rationalize, picking up the pace in case this isn’t a false alarm.
“Is there even anything out there?” Davis asks, as new to the crew as he is to Cedar Spring.
“Just an old vacation cabin and a bunch of trees. It’s a tiny island, couple acres, nothing like the bigger ones further east. Rumor had it that a couple hotties summered out there.”
“Hotties you say?” That certainly puts some pep in Davis’s step. He found out quickly that most of the women in this town have already partnered up, and I can’t say he’s happy with the news.
“Easy, boy, that was a long time ago. The cabin’s been abandoned for a few years now. If we’re saving anyone, it’s gonna be birds. Maybe some turtles and frogs. Perhaps a Springy.”
“Oh fuck off.” He shoves me as we hop onto the ancient fire boat, which can’t be much older than me but compared to the Roanoke beside us, this relic very well could have been built during the Civil War. “I can’t believe I fell for that lake monster bullshit. You really had me going.”
Weird things happen out on the water, things we can’t explain, no matter how hard we try in our incident reports. If there’s some mythical creature out here, we’ll probably never know, but being on Cedar Spring Lake is always magical.
Normally I’d bust his chops while Charlie snorts behind the wheel, man of few words, but something about this call isn’t sitting right with me.
Why did the call come from the ferris wheel?
Shouldn’t whoever’s out there have called for help by now?
Even if it’s squatters, you’d expect them to call in an anonymous tip so we could save the building they’re crashing in.
“Redford, you alright?” Charlie asks as we get up to a speed comparable to a six year old who hasn’t taken off the training wheels yet. If it’s blatant enough for him to speak up, he must see the concern all over my face.
“All good,” I lie, reassuring him with a halfhearted thumbs up as concrete lines my stomach.
Bad things don’t happen here. This has always been a safe haven. I know because I protect that sanctity day in and day out. My best buddy, Hollis, he’s doing it in a different uniform with a different badge, same great town.
Sometimes I lose a building in a fire. He breaks up the occasional fight between out of staters vacationing on the shore.
This is a peaceful place, so why can’t I shake this feeling of dread?
It’s the same feeling I get when we go to rescue a fallen hiker, knowing it’s too late, even with an assist from Ashwood Search & Rescue.
“Dammit,” I sigh, squinting into the night. “Those are definitely flames coming from the island. Charlie, can this thing go any faster?”
“Not if we want to get there in one piece. Still looks contained, must be that cabin out there. Didn’t you kids have a name for the girls who stayed there in the summer?”
“Mermaids.” It comes out like a sigh.
“That’s it, mermaids. I never understood, neither one had red hair.”
“They were mythological creatures who lived on the water, ya know, because of all the Springy sightings. If there’s lake monsters, why not mermaids?”
“Hundred bucks says it was a couple dudes with long hair driving you knuckleheads bonkers all summer.”
“Oh believe me, they were all woman,” I chuckle, calibrating the binoculars, still unable to see a damn thing.
“I went by the island one day with my dad, there they were on the little beach. They waved. I waved back. Dad of course said howdy and tipped his hat like a pontoon cowboy. They swung invisible lassos and I died of embarrassment right there on the spot.”
“Hey, Redford, 11:00. Is that movement on the water?”
“Oh, hilarious,” Davis snorts, waving his hands sarcastically. “My god, a lake monster, whatever will we do?”
I motion for him to pipe down like his silence will help me see better. Was Mom right, would I be able to see in the dark if I didn’t sneak my carrots to the dog? That’s gotta be an old wives’ tale, right?
“Davis, shut it,” I hiss, convinced I hear an engine other than ours, half as sickly.
Am I seeing things or is there a motorboat speeding towards us?
“Getting a little nervous here, Redford,” Charlie winces, shifting uncomfortably behind the controls as we plod along, finally close enough to see the smoke billowing from the cabin. “I’m not too keen on a fiery crash.”
“They could be trying to flag us down. Wait, I see a flickering light. Son of a bitch, what are they doing? Charlie, cut the wheel, they’re not swerving!”
He turns just in time, nearly knocking us overboard. “What the fuck is this guy’s prob-”
A blast rocks the boat, stopping Charlie midsentence as we try to remain vertical. Did they clip us? What the hell just happened?
Davis points behind our boat, clutching the rail for dear life. “The water’s on fire!”
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” I groan, grabbing the radio on my shoulder. “Lieutenant, do you copy? We’re under attack. Someone threw a Molotov cocktail.”
Prolonged silence before his voice crackles on my shoulder. “Repeat that, Redford. I didn’t copy.”
“We’ve got a motorboat out here, lights off.
We just barely avoided a collision… They’re swinging back around.
Charlie, full throttle! Lieutenant, get PD out here.
And we’re gonna need the Roanoke, the Cushing Island cabin is fully involved.
How are we supposed to fight this fire with someone trying to blow us up? ”
Another explosion sends a ring of fire swaying in our wake, dancing on the waves like lava sizzling in the ocean. The oil slicks will burn out on their own but the island is another story.
“Red, it’s Hollis, what the hell’s going on out there?”
“The island’s on fire and we’ve got someone throwing Molotov’s, probably the same person who lit up the cabin.”
“Hang tight, Redford! Take cover if you can. We’re on our way.”
Are those girlish screams coming from Davis or the island?
Oh god, someone’s inside the burning cabin. And we’re not going to reach them in time.