Nate
Sitting in the firehouse bay on the edge of the storm, watching as it passed over our town, knowing lives and homes were in danger, had been a grueling exercise in patience.
We’d been listening to radio traffic, ready to move, ready to do something, anything, just waiting on the storm to pass.
The crackle of the radio was a constant hum as I pulled the engine out of the safety of the Station Four bay and hit the button to close the big red sliding door behind us.
“Which way are we headed, LT?” Cal Johnson, lead firefighter in the jump-seat next to me, asked in a strong, sure voice.
Cal and I had worked together for a few years.
He was filling in at our station for Big Mo, who was out on medical leave.
His normally goofy attitude was on the shelf, and he was all business.
Like the rest of us, he was ready for action.
“I don’t know, but I’m done sitting here waiting.
We can at least head toward where we know it hit.
” Sitting by with confirmed reports of a tornado in downtown had been excruciating for the entire crew.
Knowing that people needed us and being unable to act had gone against everything I was as a person.
“911 to NFD.” The radio operator’s voice cracked with tension.
“NFD, go ahead 911.” Captain Mac Collins’s gruff voice floated through speakers. I checked the rearview to make sure he was following the engine in the pickup truck.
I took a left out of the station and headed toward town. Knowing that we were at least rolling eased the helplessness churning in my gut.
“We have several calls and our CAD system is down. How would you like to proceed?” Looked like we were going old school without the benefit of having a computer mapping system.
Cal stared wide-eyed out the front window. “Oh shit, Nate. This is bad.”
He’d never worked without a computer system in the truck and looked scared to death.
“We’ll take down the addresses when you are ready, 911,” Collins answered.
I glanced at Cal. “Grab a pen and start taking notes.”
The 911 operator began, “Respond to the area of 2900 Lagrange Street. Caller advises collapsed roof with entrapment.”
“10-4, go ahead with your next address.” Captain Collins was all business.
“Respond to the area of 5 Colonial Drive. We have multiple calls of trees on houses. The caller states a tree is on every home.”
I glanced at Cal. “Let’s get ready to rock and roll, boys.”
The streets through the quaint downtown area were quiet, littered with debris.
Where there were normally white twinkle lights shining over sidewalks, even in early spring, now limbs and leaves were scattered across the dark, wet pavement.
The streetlights were dark and the engine’s headlights cut a beam through the inky black of the night.
We crested the hill at the courthouse square and looked beyond.
The landscape was unrecognizable in the moonlight.
The downtown area of Newman included a series of two-lane, one-way streets around a historic copper-domed courthouse.
Around the square, brick buildings housing everything from boutique shops to coffee shops, even a brewery and a butcher, were part of a years-long revitalization project that had been successful.
On any given night, the streets were filled with citizens out enjoying the local art, or having a picnic, listening to local musicians camped on street corners, sharing their gift to all.
Tonight the idyllic scene was disturbing. What lay on the other side of town? What tragedy had happened? It looked all wrong. This landscape that I knew, even in the dead of night, was now foreign to me. Where the downtown area had been spared, three blocks away had taken a direct hit.
The awed voices of my crew filtered around the cab. “God damn, where are the trees?”
“It looks like a war zone.”
This was the single worst thing I’d ever seen in my career, and we weren’t even at ground zero yet. Trepidation at what we might find when we hit the scene weighed heavily.
Ahead of us, huge hundred-year-old trees had fallen across the road, blocking our way. Their branches spread out across two lanes and into the neighboring yards. Their massive trunks had crushed vehicles parked along the street.
We stopped next to the rescue truck, and I got out to meet with the other lieutenant on shift.
“We can’t get through? How are we supposed to get to these people?” He blinked wide eyes at me, his voice high and tight with panic.
“You got a jump bag? And an air tank?” I barked, frustrated at his flailing leadership. He’d been promoted ahead of guys with more seniority and skill. His lack of experience in crisis management was crystal clear, and it looked like I was going to have to lead for him.
“Yeah.” He swallowed, and I bit my tongue to keep from tearing into him more. Now wasn’t the time to deal with his bullshit.
I pointed to the guys on his truck and called, “One of you take the jump bag, and the other take an air tank and hit the road on foot.”
“The address is two miles away!” the fucking new guy called. This was not the time for his bullshit either.
I leveled my glare on him. “You better get to humping then, Rook.”
Rook was the nickname of our newest hire. So new, I didn’t know his name. And calling him Fucking New Guy didn’t sit well with the higher-ups, so Rook it was.
I looked back to the LT. “I’ll take my crew to the other side of town and approach from that direction.” I climbed back into my engine and set off. A long half-hour later, I finally made it to the other side of town. I got as close as I could to the devastation and stopped the truck.
“Okay guys, we’re going the rest of the way on foot.”
Picking our way through a mountain of rubble and debris, I paused where I thought the intersection of Lagrange Street and Colonial Street should be. There were no street signs. Landmarks and homes I’d seen my entire life were destroyed.
I pulled out my phone and hit my Google Earth app to confirm my location. All around us, residents were exploring the exterior of their trashed homes. Live power lines lay everywhere. If we didn’t get electrocuted, it’d be a fucking miracle.
A woman carrying a puppy caught my attention, shuffling my way with a frantic look on her face.
“My neighbor, I haven’t seen her yet. I heard her calling earlier, but I couldn’t get to her.”
“Which house is hers, ma’am?” I’d add it to the list of ones to search.
She pointed toward the end of the block. In the moonlight, all I could see was the downed tree.
I turned back to her. “We’ll check it out.”
Cal was helping an elderly woman into a pickup, so I grabbed my jump bag from the bed of the truck and called to them, “I’m headed to that house at the end of the block. Possible entrapment. One of you come help me when you get finished here.”
It took another thirty minutes of navigating debris and picking my way around downed power lines to finally get close enough to really see the house, which was mostly buried under a massive tree.
Fuck .
The tree had collapsed most of the exterior wall, and most of the roof was torn off. If anyone was alive in there, it would be a miracle.
“Hello!” I called, then waited.
“Hello! Is anyone in here?” I stepped onto the porch, testing the boards as I inched forward. The tree groaned and popped. The building shuddered under my feet. I paused to assess which route to take, realization dawning that this house was about to fully collapse.
“Hello!” I shouted a last time, then listened intently.