Ryker
I resist the urge to whistle my happiness. It still shows on my face, though. No one is this enthusiastic about being on call at night. The coffee machine is going, and the TV is on as we wait to spring into action.
This isn’t my usual night shift, which means I’m not with my normal group.
Darren sits closest to me, staring blank-faced at the TV.
Martin is in the corner with his earbuds in and his leg propped up on his thigh.
His foot twitches along to whatever he’s listening to.
Then there’s Amy, sitting a meter away from the TV, literally on the edge of her seat.
All the seats in here have hard backs to keep us from getting too comfortable.
Our comfort had been a priority once. There used to be bunks in a pitch-black room and we were encouraged to sleep while it was quiet, but our station was one of the first to rip them out and demand we’re wide awake and alert all night long.
Most night shifts I miss being able to crash in the bunks, but not tonight. I’m far too wired for sleep. I spent the day shopping for Freddie’s culinary favourites and sweet treats.
When Liam got home from work and saw the fridge, he sent me a picture of it stocked to the maximum and a text which read:
Is it the end of the world?
I responded.
No, it’s the start of it x
He called me a sappy bastard, but I felt the affection through his words.
Last night had been amazing. Sure, I’d have preferred if Freddie was at ours, but if he needs distance to adjust, then we’ll allow it . . . for one more night anyway. It’s one thing getting aroused by physical touch, and another to be turned on by visual stimulation.
Freddie liked the look of our cocks. He liked watching them be stroked, and joined in, coming after me and before Liam, in a twin sandwich.
I shift in my seat, thinking of Freddie in a sandwich, Liam underneath and me on top, and we’re whispering, rubbing, moaning, and Freddie is lost in ecstasy.
Christ, this is inappropriate.
I pinch my thigh harder than intended. “Ow!”
Darren’s head whips towards me. His brow furrows. “What is it?”
“Think something just bit me.”
He shoots an accusing glance at my thigh where I’m rubbing the sore skin through my trousers, then he yanks his jacket off the back of his chair, punches his arms into it, then zips it to his chin.
His eyes roam the room with distrust, and I’m left wondering what he thinks is crawling or flying about ready to get him.
Before I can ask, we hear the bell downstairs.
It’s not “The Bell,” it’s the other one that signals a call has been put through to us.
Zack is downstairs in the control room, manning the phone.
We tense, waiting to hear if we’re needed.
Amy crosses her fingers. Not for the call-out, but in hope it’s a false alarm.
We’re watching a series of Married at First Sight she hasn’t seen, and the adverts have teased drama at the dinner table.
Out of the four of us, I’m probably the only one who wants the call-out.
It’ll stop my inappropriate thoughts if I focus my energy on something else.
I don’t want to end up getting aroused in here, but my brain wants to relive the last few days.
The sooner this night is over, the sooner it’ll be Friday. Freddie Day.
Our bell rings, and Darren and I spring to our feet.
Martin’s mouth drops open, and he yanks out his earbuds, which continue to hiss until he silences them with his phone.
Amy is the least enthusiastic, gesturing wildly to the TV as the adverts end and the cliffhanger at the table is about to be resolved, no doubt with a lot of shouting and drinks being flung.
Darren switches off the plug.
The four of us rush downstairs and stand alert as Zack relays the information.
There’s a fire at Hunter Healthcare Manufactory.
My blood runs cold.
Freddie works there.
I push back the fear that creeps up fast. Freddie does work there, yes, but there’s no night shift—he’s not in the building, he’s safe somewhere.
I need to calm down. My heart ignores my internal coach and picks up pace, and with it the rest of my organs begin a mutiny.
My gut squirms, there’s an awful dread expanding in my stomach, and my legs—shit—they’re weak as I cross the concrete.
It’s a blur getting into the cab of the fire engine, and I yank out my phone despite Amy’s tut, and message Liam.
Fire at Hunter Healthcare.
His response is immediate.
Freddie finishes at 7.
And I knew that, but I was hoping once Liam told me the same thing I told myself, it would sink in and take the nagging feeling in my stomach with it, but rather than reassurance, my gut twists with a knot.
I turn my attention to Freddie.
Are you safe?
No reply.
It’s midnight, so there’s every chance he’s asleep and hasn’t seen my message. I stare at the screen as I’m bumped and thrown around in the cab while we race across town. Amy’s hand settles on my thigh.
She’s switched from judgmental to concerned.
“My friend works at Hunter Healthcare,” I tell her.
Describing Freddie as a friend leaves a sour taste in my mouth. He’s more, so much more to me and Liam, but it’s the easiest way to explain us right now.
The three of us are best friends, that hasn’t changed, but we’ve begun something new, or I hope we have. Liam still believes Freddie might bolt at any moment.
Amy nods with understanding. “Remember what Zack said?”
I shake my head. I don’t remember. It’s very unlike me to forget. But as soon as I heard it was a fire at Freddie’s work we were heading to, my mind blanked.
Fire and Freddie should only be linked when I’m thinking of him in a sexual manner. How hot he is, how I’m burning up to be inside him, et cetera. This kind of fire, the dangerous kind . . . I don’t want Freddie anywhere near it.
“Zack said it’s a no-occupancy fire. The staff have all left for the night.” Amy squeezes my leg but I can’t get the muscles to relax. “Your friend is fine.”
I nod and shoot her a smile. She catches it as we whizz past a streetlight, and at the next one, I see her returning beam.
“I’m sorry about Married at First Sight.”
Amy rolls her eyes. “I’m sure there are clips on TikTok.”
My phone buzzes with a message from Liam.
He’s not replying to my messages or picking up his phone.
Any anxiety Amy wormed out of me reappears.
I try to be rational.
It’s midnight. Freddie’s asleep. His phone could be on silent, or off all together.
There’s no reason to panic, the job we’re heading to is a no-occupancy fire, meaning no one is present at the scene.
Freddie finishes at seven. For Zack to confidently tell us there are no potential casualties, he must’ve spoken with the site manager or the owner who would’ve confirmed no one was there.
He’s not in any danger, and yet . . . it picks away at me.
There’s something. I frown, trying to think what it is, searching my brain for the missing details.
We don’t know where Freddie’s been staying, and last night when we’d seen him, we’d been too invested in his cock to notice what else the camera told us.
I tap out a quick reply to Liam.
Keep trying him.
When we arrive on scene, I skim my gaze across the fire as an afterthought. It’s the car park that interests me and its completely empty. I ease out a breath and drop from the cab.
Now that I know Freddie isn’t here, I can concentrate.
Hunter Healthcare is roughly one hundred and fifty feet long.
It has two floors and a flat roof. The ground floor is on fire, but the blaze doesn’t appear to be furious enough to break the windows and cave the roof in.
Black smoke pours out beneath two windows at each end of the building.
The fire crackles and pops, but from what I can see it looks like we got here in good time.
“Stupid kids,” Martin says. An energy drink goes skidding across the asphalt from his boot. It glugs out pink liquid with a strong sweet smell. The ground reeks of it, and it’s tacky underfoot. When we walk, our boots make a ripping sound like a waxing strip.
Martin approaches the slightly ajar window where smoke leaks out. “They must’ve forced them open, the little shits.”
It fits the arsonist’s pattern: two fires that meet in the middle. I turn, wondering whether they’re watching close by, disappointed we came too early. We’ll have this under control in no time, but Amy points to the top of the building.
There’s more thick black smoke wafting up from behind, visible thanks to the bright lights from the building opposite.
“Shit,” Martin says, but there’s no urgency to his stride as he walks to the edge of Hunter for a look. We all wait, and at a distance he conforms the back is ablaze too.
The smoke carries a smell. Petrol.
“What kind of things does Hunter Healthcare make?” Amy asks.
“Component parts for medical equipment,” I answer, but I’m not entirely sure. Freddie’s told me he makes tubes, connectors, sheets, filters, but I translated his words to bits and bobs.
“Out of plastic?”
My shoulders sink. “Yeah . . .”
Darren, the senior officer on duty, waves Martin back. “Let’s get on with it before we’re breathing toxic fumes.”
I unfurl the hose but keep glancing at the can of energy drink. There’s a few of them, and packets of sweets too. I flick my chin out to one on the floor. “Is it empty?”
Darren huffs in my direction, but Martin rolls his foot over the packet of jellybeans. “Nope, not empty. Want one?”
“I’m good.”
“More for me,” Martin mutters. He snatches up a packet and shoves it in his pocket for later.
Amy nudges me. “You good?”
“I’m fine.”
I don’t know why the litter on the floor is bothering me. I sniff out petrol on the air again. That’s bothering me too. As far as I’m aware it’s not used in the manufacturing process, which means the kids have upped their game with an accelerant.
I shake my head and focus on the task, which is putting out these flames.
There’s film on the outside of the windows, and it’s blistering and peeling under the heat.
When it melts away, Darren shines a torch at it, and we all curse.
We’re confronted with black glass, stained by soot, and when we get close enough to the building, we feel the heat radiating from the bricks.
The film on the windows is hiding the severity of the blaze, and it’s much more advanced than we first thought.
I think of Freddie again, then check my phone to see whether either he or Liam has messaged me.
There’s nothing.