"Station 77, respond to structure fire at 410 Paramount Boulevard, time-out
05:10."
The dispatcher’s voice echoed through the dark halls of the station. Then…
"I’m up!" Wick shouted, his voice muffled in the sheets as he scrambled out
of bed to change into his uniform.
CRASH!
"Oh, great."
"Just keep clear of him, Ryan, it’ll pass in a minute."
"That’s what you said last time, Bell, but your bed’s not right next to his."
"Yeah, well, close enough…I value my feet too, you know."
"Oh, sure, but how about my – OUCH!" Ryan rubbed her shin. "Wick, I swear,
you need to just slow down a little, okay?" She felt Bell’s hand on her
elbow, supporting her as she stepped into her jumpsuit. Nodding her thanks,
she muttered under her breath. "Besides, how can we help anyone if you keep
trying to break my ankles?"
She heard Bell snort, and Ryan gave him a light punch on the arm.
"Sorry," he whispered, still trying to stifle a laugh.
"Yeah, right."
"Hey, c’mon! Time to rodeo! What’re we waitin’ for folks?" Wick poked his
head back into the dormitory, his face excited. "Let’s go!"
Sighing, Ryan followed Bell out of the room, walking into the crowd of
yawning firefighters assembling near the exit pole to the garage.
"I just want to know how come the big stuff is always at the crack of dawn,
that’s all…"
"Yeah, well, maybe everyone figures that if they see that ugly, stubbled face
of yours, Manetti, the fire’ll go out on its own."
"Funny, Bridges…someone remind me to smack him when we get back."
"Yeah, okay…"
"No problem, man."
Ryan grinned as she slid down the pole, enjoying the usual firehouse banter.
She walked quickly around the R.A., grabbing her boots and jacket from their
place near the wall and listened to Bell and Wick perform a now predictable
argument.
"Can I drive?"
"No, not yet."
"Aw, c’mon, man, it’s been a month, lemme drive…"
"Nope."
"Please, man…"
"Mmmm…lemme think…no."
"Pretty please?"
"Good effort, but no."
Ryan resisted rolling her eyes and patted Wick on the back as she moved to
get in the passenger side. "Wick, it’s not gonna happen…let it go."
Wick shrugged, jumping into the back of the rig. "I just wanna know how come
he always gets to drive, that’s all…"
Bell revved up the R.A. "Ever hear of roadkill, man? I don’t make it on a
regular basis."
Ryan couldn’t help it. She laughed, holding onto the seatbelt. She could
almost see Wick’s offended expression as he responded. "Did you hear him? I
don’t think that was an extremely helpful thing for him to say to me." He
continued, his voice taking on a melodramatic tone as the R.A. pulled out
ahead of the engine. "I’m just a lowly probie, I realize, but still, I need
care, people, I need…"
"A kind touch, a gentle word?" Bell threw back with a smile.
"Hello, senior medic, ma’am? I could use some help here!" Wick stuck his hand
through the window and pointed at Ryan accusingly.
Ryan shook her head and swatted the hand away playfully. "Wick, if you drive
anything like the way you run around the station, then you will never get
behind the wheel, got it?"
"Oh, that was low, that was low, Ryan." Wick’s hand emerged again.
"That was good, Ryan, very nice." Bell commented, grinning as he turned down
the street.
Ryan nodded and let out a reflective sigh. "Yeah, well, you know, it comes
with experience, that’s all I can say."
"Oh, puh-leez!" Wick’s hand drooped.
Ryan shook her head and looked at the hand, her expression somber. "Wick,
you’re just gonna have to learn…Bell drives because he’s got an amazing sense
of direction, and I’m the senior medic because I’ve obviously got the best
zingers, and you…you…"
"Well…so what do I get to do?"
"Well, you just get to…learn…for the time being."
Another melodramatic sigh could be heard as the R.A. sped through the early
morning darkness. In the distance, the flickering light of the fire could be
seen, winding trails of smoke drifting into the sky.
"Well, there it is, I guess." Bell murmured, his eyes scanning to find
someplace to park the rig.
Ryan surveyed the large structure. It was almost fully engulfed in
fast-spreading flames. "We’re gonna need all the gear for this one."
Wick leaned over and peered through the window. "You think anyone’s in there?"
Ryan shrugged. "I don’t know…there’s a lot of abandoned warehouses in this
area. Sometimes homeless people camp out here, but it’s hard to tell."
The rig came to a halt, and Ryan opened her door, stepping outside. She
watched the engines pull up behind them. Bell nudged her, holding out the
straps of her oxygen tank. Ryan put her arms through and shrugged it on,
feeling Bell tighten the straps around her shoulders. He moved to Wick, whose
arm had caught in one of the sleeves.
"Here, let me help." Bell reached over and began to disentangle Wick’s arm.
Wick shook his head, stubborn. "I got it, man."
Bell smiled. "Nothing wrong with getting a little help…here," he said
quietly, pulling Wick’s jacket through the strap and straightening it,
"always make sure these are on tight…you don’t want the tank falling off
while you’re inside, okay?" He raised an eyebrow at Wick as he pulled on his
own tank. "Happened to me once, they didn’t stop talking about it at the
station for a week."
Wick looked at him, surprised. Bell had messed up? Well, that put a new spin
on things. In his short time as a firefighter-paramedic at Station 77, Wick
had come to the conclusion that his two superiors were either infallible or
robots. They never seemed to make a mistake. Ryan could be a little demanding
at times, quizzing him on procedure and protocol, but she always knew what to
do. Always.
And Bell…now there was a guy who needed to get a little aggression therapy,
Wick thought. He never got angry, never raised his voice even at the most
ornery victim…although there was that one domestic abuse call. Bell took the
drunk husband outside, only for a minute or two, and when they returned, the
husband had become suddenly, mysteriously sober and quite apologetic.
Now, with this small confession, Wick looked at Bell a little more
closely…maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. "Has Ryan ever messed up?" he
asked, still suspicious.
Bell adjusted his helmet and started to walk to the center of activity. "Oh,
yeah…" he said with a wink. "Plenty of times."
Wick stood up straighter. Well, if Bell and Ryan could mess up, then maybe he
didn’t have to worry so much about his chances of passing his probation
period. He followed Bell, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. What a
relief, he thought.
Durfee spoke loudly into his radio. "City Base, this is 77. We are at the
scene…we’ll call this Warehouse Incident, and I will be Warehouse IC, over."
He looked at the circle of fireman and assembled equipment. "Okay, folks,
here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna approach from the west and the south
entrances, and follow the fire inside. This warehouse is old, folks, so watch
out for debris and unstable flooring, okay? Also, we’ve had reports of
indigents residing in these warehouses, so keep your eyes and ears open – we
might have one or multiple victims. Rescue 77, take the front of each
approach, I want you in the lead to watch for any possible victims. Get the
ladders up, and we’ll take it down from the top too. Let’s move!"
Nods and shouts to the affirmative followed Durfee’s orders, and the hoses
were unraveled.
"You’re with me, Wick, let’s go." Ryan tapped Wick on the arm and began
moving towards the west entrance. "Bell, we’ll see you in there…let’s do a
primary search pattern, and we’ll meet up in the middle, okay?"
Bell nodded. "You got it!" He ran to catch up with the group of firefighters
at the south entrance. Reaching the door, he watched as Bridges and Manetti
kicked the it open. Burning heat and smoke poured out, and they all stepped
back. Bell pulled his mask over his head and secured his helmet. He nodded at
Bridges and slowly walked inside, trying to see through the dark and the
smoke.
He felt Bridges and Manetti follow him, their footsteps reverberating along
the thin wood floor. Bridges touched his shoulder, and Bell moved to the side
as the water was released. A thick torrent came out of the hose, clearing a
path in front of them as they approached the fire. Moving forward, Bell felt
his foot hit something. He held his hand in front of Bridges, stopping him
before he tripped, and bent down to clear away the debris. There was less
smoke near the floor, and Bell could see more clearly. Looking around, he
spied two closed doors to the left of their position.
Throwing the debris to the side, he stood up and tugged on Bridges arm,
signaling for him to follow. Bridges nodded, and maneuvered the hose to face
away as they moved to the first door. Bell took off one of his gloves, felt
the doorknob. It was warm, but not hot – the fire hadn’t spread inside.
Turning the knob, he opened the door and looked inside. Empty.
Bell tugged on Bridges arm again, moving them towards the second door.
Touching the knob, he hissed and jerked his hand away. Hot. He pulled his
glove back on, and signaled for Bridges to stand back. Bracing himself, he
kicked the door open and moved quickly to the side, letting Bridges and
Manetti turn the hose into the room. Bell lifted his hand and counted off
three beats. Bridges lifted the hose, and Bell slipped inside the room.
He spotted the body almost immediately. It was a man, his clothes dirty and
torn; probably homeless, Bell thought. He was only a few steps away, and Bell
dropped to his knees, taking a glove off and feeling for a pulse. There…he
could feel it, shallow but regular. He removed his helmet and took a deep
breath before pulling off his oxygen mask. Lifting the man’s head into his
lap, Bell pressed the mask over his face, letting the cool oxygen help bring
him around.
Coughing violently in Bell’s arms, the man awakened, confused but alert. Bell
helped him to sit up, then stand, wobbling on his feet. Bell put his arm
around him, and nodded at Bridges. Time to get out. Bridges and Manetti
backed up, and Bell steered the man out of the room.
Shaking his head, Bell stopped for a moment, taking the mask and breathing in
some of the oxygen. Inhaling deeply, he gave it back to the victim and
continued back down to the entrance of the factory. Bell held his breath as
he felt the man lean most of his body weight on him. Not good, he’s too
heavy, Bell realized.
But…there! He could see the door, could see the light from outside. Not much
further, you can do it, Bell repeated to himself. There was a sudden pull on
his arm and shoulder as the man lurched forward in a panicked attempt to
escape. The floorboards gave way, and Bell could feel himself being wrenched
downward. The floor rushed up at him, and as he hit it, he felt another heavy
weight come down on top of him, knocking the remaining breath from his lungs.
Blackness clung to the edges of his vision, and Bell struggled to move.
Lifting his head, a wave of dizziness and sharp pain washed over him and the
blackness became stronger, pushing him to the brink of unconsciousness.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he could feel the victim moving off of
him, and stumbling away. He opened his eyes, feeling the sting of the smoke,
and he slowly got to his hands and knees, crawling unsteadily out of the way
of Manetti and Bridges. He tried to ignore the pain in his head while he felt
around for the oxygen mask, his dizziness engulfing him as he fought to stay
conscious without air. He grasped at a distant shape, his fingers fumbling as
he dragged the mask to his face.
He took a breath and felt himself choking on more smoke. Oh damn, he thought,
the words carrying a faint echo in his mind. He was unable to control the
fear rising from the pit of his stomach. The mask was cracked, useless, and
Bell could feel his tenuous hold on consciousness slipping away again as the
smoke overwhelmed him.
****
Manetti kept his feet at a slow pace moving backward, hoping Bell and the
victim had already gotten out. The fire had spread along the ceiling and
walls, and it was becoming too dangerous to stay inside. Bridges was pushing
back fast, spraying the water above and to the sides, trying to give them
enough time to get out. Sparing a glance backward, Manetti's eyes widened in
fear, watching the victim start to struggle out of Bell’s protective grasp.
The man stumbled and pulled Bell down, and they both fell hard to the ground,
causing a strong vibration to roll along the floor. Manetti bent his knees a
little, trying to steady his position. Looking around, he saw that Bell was
sprawled underneath the weight of the victim, unable to move.
Manetti put his hand on Bridges’ back, slowed him down as the victim got up
and ran out of the building. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bell
falter to his hands and knees, trying to move out of the way of the hose.
Something was wrong, Manetti realized, his fear growing. Bell didn’t have
his mask on...why didn't he have his mask on?
Get your mask on, kid, Manetti felt himself saying. Get some air, it’s been
too long! C’mon! Squinting, he watched Bell find his mask and bring it to his
face. Bell shook his head and started coughing, the mask dropping from his
hands. No, no, no, Manetti thought, his eyes trained on Bell, something is
really wrong here.
The smoke was thick, and Manetti was having trouble seeing. He saw Bell
collapse on the ground, then nothing but the swirling blackness. Manetti
shouted inside his mask, knowing it was useless, no one could hear him. He
slapped Bridges’ back twice, signaling they had a man down, and he shuffled
backwards carefully, with the desperate hope that he would hit Bell’s body on
the way out.
His foot bumped into something, and Manetti reached down, relieved when he
grabbed onto the thick material of Bell’s jacket. He nudged Bridges with his
elbow, letting him know that he had found Bell. Manetti hefted Bell over his
shoulder, his mind registering a brief moment of worry when he encountered no
resistance from the younger man. Damn, too much smoke, Manetti thought, and
with one hand holding onto Bell, Manetti used his other hand to grasp the
hose and pull backward. Bridges began moving again, faster as they neared the
door.
Manetti felt a rush of cooler air hit him, and he let go of the hose as they
stepped outside. He felt someone else grab it, helping Bridges keep the water
going on the raging fire. Using both hands, he held onto Bell, and broke into
a heavy jog away from the hot zone. He could see Durfee and a couple other
firefighters running towards them. Reaching the sidewalk, Manetti sat Bell
gently on the ground, leaning him against his chest for a moment as he
removed his own mask.
"What the hell happened?" Durfee asked, skidding to a stop. He kneeled beside
Manetti and Bell, and started to pull at the straps of Bell’s tank, hurrying
to remove it. He noted the cracked mask…it looked like someone had stepped on
it.
Manetti shook his head, out of breath. He held Bell’s head up, pressing the
oxygen mask over his face. "Did you get the victim? He ran out a minute ago…"
Durfee tugged at the tank, carefully pulling Bell’s arms through the straps.
The tank finally came off, and he pushed it aside. "Okay…get him down on the
ground…c’mon, all the way down." He began working at the collar of the
jacket, ripping it open to feel for Bell’s pulse. "Some guy came tearin’
outta there, we tried to stop him, but he’s half way to Fullerton by now…"
Manetti nodded. "That’s him…found him in one of the rooms in there. Bell was
helpin’ him out, and I think he made a run for it, took both of ‘em down." He
continued to hold the mask over Bell’s face. "He took in a lot of smoke."
Durfee nodded back. "Okay…pulse is strong, and he’s breathing. Schroeder, go
get Ryan and Lobo." One of the firefighters standing by broke into a run
towards the west entrance.
"Hey, Bell…c’mon, Michael, open your eyes!" Durfee said loudly, his hands on
either side of Bell’s face.
Almost as if on cue, Bell took a gasping breath and began to cough, his eyes
fluttering open.
***
Ryan pulled at Wick’s sleeve, wiggling her eyebrows at him. Time to get out,
she communicated without words as she felt another blast of heat from the
nearing flames. Moving behind Sanchez and O’Neil, she shoved him towards the
door, out into the open air.
Wick removed his mask with a sigh. They’d barely even got inside the door
when the fire flared up. Ryan took off her mask, trying not to smile at
Wick’s disappointment. She patted him on the back. "Maybe next time, okay?"
Wick shrugged and looked back at the building. "I wonder if anyone was in
there."
Ryan swallowed and brushed the hair from her face. "Well, if there was, let’s
hope Bell found them. C’mon, go get some axes and let’s help clear the
debris."
Wick nodded, and jogged over to one of the engines. Someone started shouting,
and he looked up, watching as a man ran down the street away from the burning
warehouse, his clothes worn and tattered. "Hey!" Wick shouted. "Hey, stop!"
He turned to find Durfee, but stopped when he heard more shouting. Turning
around, he felt a stab of panic as he saw one of the firefighters being
carried out of the building, his body hanging limp over the shoulder of
another ‘fighter.
As the unconscious firefighter was set on the ground, Wick caught sight of
the big black letters on the back of his jacket…B-E-L-L. Oh, damn, Wick
thought, his panic growing.
"Ryan!" He shouted, starting to run to the R.A. "Ryan, get over here!"
Reaching the R.A., he flung open the doors and began gathering equipment.
Okay, Wick, he thought to himself, oxygen tank, backboard, get the headset,
what else? Think! The nervous energy was making his heart pound in his head,
and Wick struggled to clear his mind. He had to help Bell. Wick jumped from
the back of the R.A, arms full of equipment, and was relieved when he saw
Ryan break into a run towards Durfee and the others.
***
"Whoa…whoa, just take it easy, Bell." Manetti put his hands on Bell’s
shoulders, hoping to keep the younger man on the ground. Why was he trying to
get up? Manetti tried to follow Bell’s glazed but rather frantic gaze, and
quickly found out. Ryan. Well, Manetti thought, his hands easing just a bit,
Bell is in for it now. Poor guy.
Coughing loud and hard, Bell tried to shove Manetti’s hands away. If one
thought was clear in his mind, it was that he had to sit up and try to look
just a little normal before Ryan came running up.
Still coughing, Bell worked against Manetti and Durfee, lifting his head.
Damn! He could see her already. Not good, not good, he thought, becoming more
lucid. He had to get up or Ryan would have him strapped to a backboard faster
than he could say…faster than he could say…Bell shook his head, trying to get
rid of the remaining dizziness. Well, faster than he could say…something.
With a final, massive effort, he pulled himself up, despite the protests of
Manetti and Durfee.
It only made him cough harder, and exhausted, Bell let his head hang down,
his shoulders heaving with each breath. He lifted his hands to his face,
wiping at the soot and the smoke-stung tears streaming from his eyes. Bell
could hear Durfee scolding him for trying to move.
"What the hell do ya think you’re doin’? You think no one was gonna notice
Manetti hauling your butt out here?" Durfee reprimanded, his voice soft. "You
might as well just lay back down and take it like the rest of us."
Bell glared at him, his eyes still burning. "I’m fine," he gasped.
Durfee had the audacity to laugh. "Son, you got a bump on the back o’ your
head bigger than Mt. Baldy, and you’re suckin’ in air like my grandaddy…you
are NOT fine."
Desperate, Bell turned to Manetti. The older man shook his head and shrugged.
"Hey, don’t look at me. I got you out of the building, but…I can’t get you
out of this. Sorry."
Bell let out a wheezing sigh. Great, his own fellow firefighters weren’t even
going to try to help him! Some friends…his eyes darted around, spotting Wick
behind Ryan. Oh, even better, now the probie was going to get in on the
action. He’d probably enjoy it…poking around for a vein, trying to find a
good place to stab him with the I.V. needle. Bell nearly threw his hands up
in frustration. The little weasel.
Okay, Bell thought, maybe if I can just stand up, maybe then they’ll leave me
alone. Drawing his legs up, he started to stand, barely hearing Durfee’s
orders to stay down. The dizziness returned full force and then some…and Bell
sank back to the ground, nausea washing over him.
Ryan was almost there, and Bell shook his head. Lesser of two evils,
really…escape Ryan and throw up on Durfee or…or…oh yeah, he remembered,
shaking his head again, sit down and accept his unfortunate fate. He let out
another sigh between coughs as she reached them. Fate it was. Durfee shrugged
his shoulders and smiled, pushing him to lay down again.
"What happened?" Ryan kneeled next to him.
Bell opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was more coughing. Damn
smoke, he cursed to himself. Half-gasping, half-groaning, he could only close
his eyes and try to catch his breath.
