Chapter Five #2
His question reminds me there’s one more favor I need to ask. I look at the big pile of fluff passed out on my feet. “Yeah, I do, but is it okay if I leave Ellie here?”
His brows furrow. “Isn’t she supposed to be a firehouse dog?”
“Yeah, she’s supposed to be,” I mutter, reminding myself it’s one more place I’ve failed. “She won’t go inside a firehouse without,” I pause, finding it hard to say the name out loud. “Without her.” I swallow roughly, clearing my throat as if something is stuck in it.
Tom nods, understanding. “Whatever you need.” He grips my shoulder before climbing the stairs to his bedroom. “‘Night,” he calls from over the top landing.
“‘Night,” I answer, pouring myself another glass, hoping that one more might quiet the noise that keeps me up night after night enough to get some sleep. It hasn’t worked in months, but maybe tonight it will do the trick.
Though I doubt it.
“Probie!” I yell across the Bay Area, where we park the rig. “Where the hell did you learn to pull a hose like that?”
You’ve gotta’ be kidding me. I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers, trying my best not to lose my shit on this guy.
We’ve been running through drills for fire ground activities these last few weeks.
Pulling the hose and hose management is one of them, and right now, looking at the mess that the probie, Mark Bruno, has made of it, it’s a good thing.
“Sorry, Captain King.” He cringes, and for a second, I wonder if I’m being too hard on him, but realizing I’m responsible for their lives makes that concern disappear as fast as it comes.
“Don’t be sorry. Do your job, get it right. Your lives and others’ may depend on it. Let’s go.” I make a circle motion in the air with my arm. “Load up the hose, we’re going again.”
Soft groans sound throughout the bay from every direction, but I don’t care.
We’ve been at this all morning, and we’ll work through lunch if that’s what it takes to make sure we’ve got this right.
Billy charges the line as Mark flakes the hose from the bed.
Our volunteer, Maria, takes the nozzle and advances the line toward our pretend fire, all while I call out simulated hazards.
“Let’s go... Deploy quicker.... There’s a blocked door... What are you going to do? Communicate with one another!”
Finally, it starts coming together. “Nice, call out any pressure changes. Billy, keep it steady. Good stance, Maria. Mark, manage the hose line.” I watch each of their techniques, ensuring there are no bad habits I’ll have to break them out of later.
“Mark, come on, man, adjust the line. You need to keep the hose clear for Maria, assist with the corners.”
I bark out directions until even I’m tired of hearing my voice.
From what I’ve been told, Mark started volunteering after Billy officially became a part of the crew.
He’s only just finished his ride-along hours and EMT training.
There have been days over these last few weeks when I’ve wondered how either of them passed the training, but during one of the more recent calls, a house fire that sent the elderly man living there into cardiac arrest, they proved that they do, in fact, know what they’re doing.
The man survived thanks to their quick action, and it turned out to be just a quick knock down.
Minimal damage, nothing to write home about.
Turtle Bay Fire Department is smaller than my last crew, but given that we’re in the middle of the Adirondacks in a small town, it makes sense.
Back in Oregon, we were busy. Our department had several companies working together at a time, but here, it couldn’t be more different.
There are two crews assigned to a rig, and on rotation, a mixture of volunteers and full-time firefighters assigned to the department.
Our truck runs four deep. Three EMT-certified firefighters, Mark, a volunteer, and Billy the engineer.
Along with being captain, I’m also a licensed paramedic.
Chief is the other paramedic on the team, but since he’s here full time, he doesn’t always come out on the calls with us.
He usually hangs back to take care of all the important paperwork that none of us wants anything to do with.
We all have our roles, and even though I might be coming off as a hard ass, we work well together.
Finally, after what feels like our hundredth drill, everything starts running smoothly. To my relief, we run through it a few more times with the same success.
“Ay, there we go!” Billy calls out, jumping out of the rig and pulling Mark in, hands clapping before a brief, back-smacking hug.
“Not bad, right, Captain?” Mark smiles widely and expectantly at me.
My expression gives nothing away until I realize it’s not only Mark looking at me, but the whole damn crew.
Even our relief, the crew coming in for the B shift, stalls in their places, waiting for my response, waiting for my approval.
I’m considering leaving them hanging when a glance to my right shows that the Chief is watching too, with a tight and thoughtful expression mixed with knowing and restraint.
When his jaw tightens, and his brows begin to pinch, I look up and release a breath.
“Not bad at all,” I say with forced enthusiasm.
As they celebrate, I pay another glance toward Chief.
He nods his head for me to follow him as he walks down the back hall to his office.
The whole way there, I feel like I did when I was a kid in high school on my way to the principal’s office.
Which happened a lot. Anticipation fills me with every step forward until I’m wound up tight, nerves humming under my skin like I’m bracing for impact.
The laughter of the crew fades as I shut the door behind me and take a seat.
Chief Mason watches me with sharp, assessing eyes, a thousand unspoken thoughts passing between us, before he finally leans back in his chair and settles in, appearing more relaxed.
His eyes wander to a picture of a younger version of himself on the wall next to a crew of much older men, a small smile on his face.
“I was only sixteen in that picture. The youngest volunteer this department has ever had,” he says when he sees I take notice.
“My dad was a real hard ass. He was the chief for many years here. Nothing I did ever seemed to be good enough.” He laughs, but there’s little humor in the sound of it.
“Eventually, I stopped trying to be. Instead, I latched on to the men around me. The ones who helped me grow by building me up, not tearing me down.” He shifts his attention back to me before he continues.
“That’s not to say they didn’t give me hell when I did something stupid.
They’d lay on the pressure until I got it right, celebrate my wins with me, and then make sure I kept getting it right. ”
His pointed gaze narrows on me, like he’s asking if I catch his drift.
“So what? You want me to hold their hands and give them a lollipop every time they do the bare minimum?” I snort, rolling my eyes.
The Chief blinks slowly before deflating in front of me and leaning forward in his chair.
“No, Captain King. I want you to be the example. I want you to lead these men with encouragement that will build them into the best firefighters that they can be,” he says, his tone calm but corrective.
“If you only ever point out what they’re doing wrong, then that’s all they’ll ever think they’re capable of. ”
“They need to do better,” I grind out.
“Then make them better, but give them something.”
Out of respect, I bite my tongue and keep to myself everything I’m thinking.
If they fail here, then they’ll fail out there, where it counts, where people can get hurt.
We don’t get do-overs out there. When people die, they don’t come back.
He wants me to make them better, and that’s what I’m trying to do.
I’m trying to make them better than me, because I’m the one who failed.
I should have been better for her. I should have been paying attention to my surroundings.
I should never have been that close to the wall and tree that fell.
I should have been faster when I carried her to safety.
I should have been louder when I screamed for someone to help her. But I wasn’t.
I failed.
She was better.
Krystal was better, and yet she’s still not the one here.
My jaw clenches, and heat travels up the back of my neck. My chest begins to tighten, and a surge of panic emerges from right under the surface, threatening to break through.
Damn it.
Not here. Not now.
“Levi, are you okay?” Chief asks, formalities forgotten.
“Yeah,” I force out, unconvincingly even to my own ears, but before he can question me further, the door swings open.
“Chief!” Billy hollers walking through the door.
“You ever heard of knocking, Billy?” Chief scolds, taking his attention off me and onto the bulldozer at the door.
I use the distraction to get my shit together. I’m not about to have a panic attack in the middle of my superior’s office and get sent to some psychiatrist who’ll have to clear me to work. Not a chance.
“Whoopsies,” Billy says with a smile. “We’re heading out for lunch. Wanted to know if you want to join us at the Cozy Pines Cafe?”
I internally groan and roll my eyes. I’ve gone back for my free coffee a few times these last four weeks, but only on the days when I have Ellie with me, because apparently I’m a pushover when it comes to my dog and her obsession with those stupid biscuits.
Other than that, I’ve avoided the place and Tris entirely.
Each time, without fail, she has made some type of snide remark, locked and loaded, like she gets off on the idea of getting under my skin.
Too bad for her, she’s never ready for what I dish right back out.