October 1st, 2009. I woke up in Claire’s apartment, the alarm clock blaring at 7:00 AM. I sluggishly rolled over, silenced the alarm, and reluctantly got out of bed. I dressed in my usual attire: black pants secured with a black leather belt, a white t-shirt, and a black short-sleeve shirt over it.
Claire was already up, heading towards the bedroom door. “Morning, honey,” I greeted her. She turned around, a soft smile on her face. “Morning, Macaroni. Sleep well?” she asked. I nodded, “I slept well. We snuggled up all night, so I know you did too.”
A question had been nagging at me. “Even though we’re dating. Even though we’re not married, do I still get time off on holidays?” Claire shook her head, “Not really. If we were married or if you had children, then yes.”
I made my side of the bed as I continued our conversation. “At least you don’t have any boys, or then you would need to relocate your armory into our bedroom. Lily and Rose are going to be entering the sixth grade next year, and Margaret, Mabel, Bella, Chloe, and Charlotte are turning nine.”
Claire explained, “The only three ways you’ll be able to take time off is that A. We get married, B. You become 100% responsible for their wellbeing if I get hurt, or C. You become a mother as well.”
I had another question. “Why can’t I join you over on Squad 141?” We walked into the kitchen as she answered, “Because the department has a no-tolerance policy for firefighters who are dating or married to work within the same house and within the same district. They think that it’ll be a conflict of interest. Just be glad you’re in a SOC company. You’re on Squad 525.”
That was true. I was on a Squad Company like Lusty, but I was in the heart of the city. After breakfast, Claire’s kids had to go to school. We made scrambled eggs with bacon and sausage and coffee. The kids got orange juice. Some of Claire’s children tried to fake an illness to avoid school, but Claire, like her mother, always pulled the ‘Nice try’ card and told them to get their stuff and start heading to school after they brushed their teeth.
After breakfast, I ran a quick errand to the corner coffee store and got a large Americano coffee and a chocolate pastry before heading to Squad 525 firehouse.
***
I stepped out of my car and gazed at the Squad Co 525 firehouse. It was a striking contrast to the Squad Company 141 firehouse, where my girlfriend worked. That one had majestic Romanesque Revival architecture, with arched windows and a towering clock tower. This one was a modest red brick and limestone building, with a single apparatus bay door and a blend of Romanesque Revival and Beaux-Arts styles. It looked old, but sturdy.
I checked my badge, which had the number 198445. It reminded me of Claire, who has the number 197945. She was only five years ahead of me, but he had seen so much more. She had taught me everything I knew about firefighting, and he had encouraged me to apply for Squad 525. She said it was the best squad in the city, and that I had what it took to be part of it.
I walked inside and noticed the recent renovations. The concrete floor had a fresh coat of white paint, and the doors looked new and shiny. But the history of Squad 525 was still evident in the spiral staircase and the hayloft, which used to house the horses and the wagons. The last major renovation was in 1922 when they installed electricity and replaced the steam-powered fire wagon with a motorized one. That was also the year when Engine Company 525 became Squad Company 525, on Christmas Day.
"Um, hi," I said, as I saw a firefighter sitting on the bumper, reading a magazine. "I'm Mackenzie. I'm your new Probie on Squad 525."
The firefighter looked up and smiled. "Oh, fantastic. That's great. We've been waiting for a new Probie since our previous nozzleman retired."
"Why did he retire?" I asked.
"Old age. He was due for retirement. He joined back in 1961, the guy was born in '42. We just kept him around longer because of the earthquake back in '06, when he was supposed to retire at 65. And then the war. He was a legend, but he had to go. Well, let me show you around. You're lucky, you get a new Probie and a new rig on the same day."
"Must be a lucky day for this company then," I said, trying to sound friendly.
He chuckled. "Yeah, well, we were all expecting a male, not a female, to joke and bullshit around with. You know, locker room talk and stuff. But hey, I'm not sexist. I have two sisters who are firefighters, and all of my brothers are firefighters too."
"I can handle any jokes you throw at me," I said, confidently. "I've even gotten into fist fights with male members of my family. And I don't mean pillow fights. I mean brass knuckles and blood."
He raised his eyebrows. "Wow, you're tough. I like that. Is one of them named Linda Keehezoni Richter-Waterson? She's my sister. Name's Richter. Steven Richter."
He extended his hand and I shook it. He had a firm grip and a friendly face. He showed me around the firehouse and explained that the spiral staircase was installed to prevent the horses from going upstairs, where the firefighters cooked, ate, and slept. He introduced me to the other members of the squad, who seemed nice enough, but also curious about me.
"So, why did you join the Fire Department?" Steven asked me.
I smiled and thought of my girlfriend. "Because of her. She's over on Squad Company 141. She's cute, she's smart, she's a Lieutenant. She inspired me to become a firefighter. What about you?"
"Family tradition," Steven said. "Brothers, sisters, father, grandfather, grandmother, all the way back to the year of 1710, when the city was founded. Firefighting is in our blood."
I nodded. "That's impressive. So, what kind of house is this? Is it a busy house? A peaceful house? Or somewhere in between? What are the majority of calls we run? Is it fires or EMS calls? I only ask because I was here once for my fire science class. I spent 24 hours in three different firehouses: Firehouse Sixteen, Firehouse Thirty-Three, and this one. I want to know what to expect because then I was only 22 and was mostly thinking about going out to party…"
Steven then took me to the locker room and showed me the locker I'll be using and I was given a strip of masking tape and a sharpie where I wrote in capital words I wrote “MACARONI” on it.
“Macaroni?” Asked Steven.
I replied, “It's a nickname my girlfriend gave me because I love macaroni.”
I then opened the locker and put my duffle bag in it. I also put my shoes into the locker where I put on my turnout Trousers with suspenders and the trousers are black with yellow and white striping. But I took my turnout jacket which is also black with yellow and white reflective striping and black helmet onto my spot.
Descending the station’s steps, the mechanical hum and rhythmic beeping of equipment testing filled my ears. I followed the sound to its source - Lieutenant Valkyrie, meticulously checking her gear.
“Probie, check your gear too. Ensure it’s all in working order,” Lieutenant Valkyrie instructed, her gaze never leaving her task. “You don’t want to respond to a call only to find your BA’s respirator or gauge malfunctioning. You need to know if you’re running out of air.”
“Understood, Lieutenant,” I responded, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my stomach. My two-year active duty enlistment in the Navy aboard a Ticonderoga class-guided missile cruiser in the Aegean Sea had prepared me for pressure, but this was a different beast. With a four-year active drilling navy reserve commitment looming, the pressure was only set to increase.
“Scared, Probie?” Lieutenant Valkyrie asked, finally looking up.
“Honestly? Yes,” I admitted. “Every human instinct screams at us not to run into a burning building. It’s madness, even with all this training. This isn’t a video game where you learn from dying and respawning.”
Lieutenant Valkyrie looked puzzled. “What the hell is a video game?”
I paused, struggling to explain a concept so foreign to someone living in a country where video games were still considered science fiction.
“Do you mean one of those arcade games with raster or vector graphics, standard resolution between 262.5 and 315 vertical lines, depending on the refresh rate usually between 50 and 60 Hz?” Lieutenant Valkyrie asked, her brow furrowed.
I shook my head. “No, not an arcade machine. A video game is an electronic game that involves interaction with a user interface or input device like a joystick, controller, keyboard, or motion-sensing device. It generates visual feedback on a display device, most commonly a television set, computer monitor, flat-panel display or touchscreen on handheld devices.”
That’s how I could describe a video game. But Lieutenant Valkyrie looked at me in confusion.
“I just know what an Arcade game is,” Lt Valkyrie said. “That’s how I put myself through advanced classes in the fire academy by taking a part-time job working nights to go into an arcade of them having an arcade game in a store that has people come in during business hours to play arcade games.”
I then just tested my breathing apparatus.
“You’re welcome that I was able to get you over here,” Lt Valkyrie said.
I replied, “Yes I know because I helped out after the Earthquake. You even came to my girlfriend’s apartment and gave me an advanced copy of the 2009-2010 course schedule and told me that if I want to be a part of an elite unit then I want to take HAZMAT Tech A, Vertical Rescue and Building Collapse One. I went home back to the States then from ‘07-early 09 I was in the Navy then came back and took the Spring of ‘09 class.
Then I met the Chauffeur-Engineer Schmit, and the other two Pengelle and Carter but Steven told me not to bother them because they always play cards just to pass the time. I was about to ask where the other one was but Steven told me that he called out sick so it’ll be a six man company not seven as normal.
***
We were in the midst of the organized chaos of a hardware store when Lieutenant Valkyrie announced our next stop. “Alright, after this place, we’re stopping by the grocery store,” she said, her eyes scanning the shelves.
“Why are we going to the grocery store after the hardware store?” I asked, curiosity piqued.
Steven chimed in from behind a stack of paint cans, “Do you like Barbecue?”
“Barbecue?” I echoed, a smile spreading across my face at the memory. “A Waterson never turns down a BBQ, be it smoked or grilled. Every Spring and Summer break, my dad would take me to our extended family’s bi-monthly BBQ. The mouthwatering, savory BBQ was a highlight, even though there were a few fistfights here and there for one reason or another. So yes, I like BBQs. And the only time we got away from my mother for a reason I’m not going to talk about.”
Steven chuckled, “I’m not even going to ask why your family would have fistfights at these BBQs.”
“Well, when adults drink and someone takes an unmarked beer can, it can lead to disagreements,” I explained. “But in my family, we treat each other as siblings, even cousins. The fights are more like sibling squabbles, providing entertainment more than anything else. By the way, do false alarms count towards my first run? Over on Squad 141, they count false alarms as a first run.”
Lieutenant Valkyrie shook her head. “Nope. It depends on the house, but 90% of them don’t count false alarms. Now, where’s the 4FT 0-20 PSI Adjustable Propane Regulator?”
I reached over and picked it up, “Right in front of you, Lieutenant.”
She laughed, “Guess my eyesight is deteriorating from old age. But I’ve been doing this job for 20 years.”
“You were a Probie when I entered Kindergarten,” I said, with a note of respect in my voice.
With a nod, Lieutenant Valkyrie announced, “Alright Squad, let’s get out of here. This piece is already five bucks and we still have to hit the store. And Probie, you’re buying the meat and BBQ sauce.”
***
In the aisles of the grocery store, I maneuvered a cart through the aisle. The question slipped from my lips almost without thought, “So, what was your first fire?”
Steven, nonchalantly tossing a piece of cereal into the air and catching it in his mouth, responded, “House fire. We were the second-due company. I managed to pull two little girls out of the inferno. A newspaper photographer captured the moment I emerged from the house, girls in tow. I remember that call vividly. Valkyrie was there too, it was the day she graduated from being a Candidate. Our then Lieutenant, listening to the radio, heard the words ‘Fire extending, getting away.’ I’ve kept that newspaper clipping at my house.”
Lt Valkyrie joined us, placing the BBQ meat into the shopping cart, “The firehouse has a copy too,” she added, then looked around, “Where’s Carter?”
I glanced towards the store entrance, “He’s outside, standing next to our apparatus. Didn’t ask why, but I guess he just wanted some fresh air.”
Steven disappeared for a moment, only to return with the announcement, “We were out of ketchup and mustard.”
We made our way to the checkout, the cart heavy with our purchases. As Lieutenant Valkyrie had instructed, I paid for the groceries. But when I turned around, they had vanished, leaving me to lug all the paper bags to the rescue engine alone. It was one of those pranks they pull on the newbies.
A few hours later, we found ourselves on the roof of a mid rise mixed commercial-apartment building.
“Rope rescue,” I declared, my heart pounding in my chest. “First time. I’ll go because I’m the lightest.”
I strapped on the harness and attached the rope to a karabiner. Climbing over the railing, I couldn’t shake the fear of being dropped. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but the thought of the rope snapping or fraying and breaking apart was terrifying. I didn’t want to end up like Humpty Dumpty.
Somehow someone got stuck out on a balcony but we couldn’t reach the person due to the floor on that level being torn up for renovations.
“Squad 525 to command, we got a man coming over the top,” Lieutenant Valkyrie relayed into her walkie-talkie advising dispatch to inform the cops that they’re performing a rope rescue.
“Just don’t look down,” Steven advised.
“Yeah, thanks…” I muttered, my mind wandering to my father’s paratrooper training.
As I was lowered down, I shouted instructions to the team above. Suddenly, the person I was rescuing fell onto me, causing us to plummet rapidly down two floors. We crashed into a window. Taking the initiative, I used my window-shattering tool to break the window, allowing both of us to enter the building. The rope slackened as they gave me some leeway to ensure I was fully inside.
I soon then got off of the ropes but radioed to Lieutenant that I was inside and safe. My heart was racing but that was not fun but a lot scarier than I thought.
***
Back at the firehouse, I shook my head in disbelief. “I’m not even going to try to figure out how someone managed to lock themselves out on a balcony of a floor that’s closed for renovations,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Just thinking about it gives me a headache.”
Steven shrugged, “That’s a mystery for the cops to solve.”
Lieutenant Valkyrie nodded in agreement. “Exactly. We’ve done our job, now it’s time for the Burglary Detectives to do theirs. Breaking and Entering falls under their jurisdiction.”
Changing the subject, I pointed across the street. “Hey, looks like a new bakery opened up. Anyone fancy an A-la-Carte?”
Steven looked puzzled, “What the hell is that?”
I explained, “It’s when food can be ordered as separate items, rather than part of a set meal.”
Lieutenant Valkyrie chimed in, “Just go get a cake for dessert. But remember to keep your radio on and make sure the cake is fresh. We don’t want one that’s been sitting out for days.”
I darted across the street to the bakery, selecting two freshly made cakes - a chocolate ice cream cake and a classic vanilla. After paying a mere five bucks, I returned to the firehouse, stowing the ice cream cake in the freezer and the vanilla cake in the fridge to keep them chilled and fresh.
“Hey Lieutenant, would you like me to prepare the Barbecue using my family recipe?” I offered with a hint of pride in my voice. “It’s more mouthwatering than you can imagine.”
Lieutenant Valkyrie chuckled, “Sure, but if it’s terrible, we won’t let you forget it. When I joined back in '89, they always made sure to remember your culinary failures, even after you retire.”
With her approval, I headed out back to the grill to start the Barbecue. As I worked, I found myself hoping that a call wouldn’t interrupt lunch. My gaze drifted to the watch on my wrist, a graduation gift from my dad in 2007. He was proud of me for attending university, even though he had to foot the bill. He didn’t want me to be so far away, but I found comfort in knowing I had family here. And of course, there was my girlfriend to talk to whenever I felt homesick.
I left the Barbecue unattended for a moment, returning with a chair for a quick break. As I sat reading my “Firefighter Officer Preparation Book.” Steven surprised me by snatching it up. He asked if I wanted to be an officer, to which I confirmed. He commended my ambition but advised patience, reminding me that I was also a new candidate and should wait until 2014 to take the officer exam. Five years before I could take the Captain’s exam. It was strange to me that in Little Bird, the Captain was a lower rank than the Lieutenant, but I wasn’t about to question it.
Steven’s advice on preparing for the officer’s exam was straightforward - study, make flashcards, and quiz yourself. He suggested enlisting the help of a study partner, like a family member or a girlfriend, to test your knowledge and provide feedback. His brother Stephan, a Lieutenant at Engine Seventeen, had a unique approach - he would reward himself for getting a majority of the questions right, and if he didn’t, he would hit the books even harder.
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The officer’s exam, Steven explained, consisted of one hundred questions. To be considered for promotion to Captain, you needed to answer at least seventy-five correctly. With thirty-six fire companies in the city and a total of one hundred and eight captains and thirty-six lieutenants, competition was fierce. Almost two hundred firefighters typically took the exam, aiming for limited advancement opportunities. The highest scorers became officers, while the lower scorers were kept in reserve, ready to step up if an officer retired or fell in the line of duty.
Steven admitted to having taken the officer’s exam three times, failing on each attempt. He warned that the exam had a strict one-hour time limit, and any incomplete answers were counted as incorrect. He also cautioned against any attempts to cheat, as it resulted in an automatic fail and a ban from retaking the exam. His words served as a sobering reminder of the challenges that lay ahead on my journey to becoming an officer. But with hard work, dedication, and a little bit of luck, I was confident I could make it.
“Well I’m going to go back to playing cards,” Steven said. “But on the quiz or test some are multiple choice answers while others you have to write a sentence. And since your girlfriend is a Lieutenant she won’t sit on the board to oversee your test because it’s all random like the military draft lottery or the lottery. So even if you’re on the name for the next class test and your girlfriend's number gets drawn to oversee the test then they’ll remove her number and draw another badge number.
"It’s done to prevent nepotism because before 1951 a lot of officers were easily promoted due to close ties with whoever's in charge and a lot of them weren’t ready to become officers. Since 1951 they made it required you needed at least a minimum of five years on the job before being eligible to take the test and made that lottery styled system to draw one random Lieutenant, two Captains, One Battalion and One Division Chief that oversees it with a few others from HQ and some will walk around the room to make sure there’s no cheating is going on. Also when I went through the academy my instructor said that bravery is part of the job. But so is good sense. And bravery without good sense is a good recipe to die awfully young.”
I replied, “Ah okay then that’s an interesting dynamic or system put in place. My girlfriend she told me that I’ll miss a lot of important things like birthdays, holidays, and miss seeing kids grow up and that I’ll live with doubt, frustration, and anxiety and also said that there’s almost four thousand firefighters in this city who knows that being a firefighter is isn’t a glamor job and a thankless or thankful job. My girlfriend every day wishes she could’ve been there one second sooner to save her parents and her parents have been dead for thirteen years.”
I then went back to make the barbecue but after the BBQ was done I made homemade mashed potatoes to go with it. I told them to put the cards away and had them dig it but I’d saved my plate for last.
I was feeling bored and curious, so I asked Lt Valkyrie, "Why do we have to have a BBQ on the first of October?"
She looked at me with a serious expression and said, "This is not just any BBQ, Macaroni. This is a tradition that goes back to the very beginning of this Company. On October 1st, 1914, the first group of firefighters who formed this Company had their first meal together, and it was a barbecue. They didn't care that BBQs were not a common thing back then, or that the BBQ grill was not even invented until 1952.
"They just wanted to celebrate their camaraderie and courage with some grilled meat and sauce. And they got the idea from some old books they read about Jamaica and North America, where people used to barbecue their food as early as 1661. So ever since then, on every October 1st, we honor their legacy by having a barbecue for lunch, no matter what. And during the wars, we always had steak and eggs for breakfast, just like them."
I was impressed by his history lesson, and I could tell she was passionate about this tradition. Steven, Schmit, Pengelle, and Carter nodded in agreement and praised me for my cooking skills. They said I was the best firehouse cook they ever had, and they were lucky to have me.
Steven then turned to me and asked, "So Macaroni, you said you did two years in the Navy, right? Did you travel to any interesting places during that time?"
I smiled and said, "Yeah, I did from 18 to 21. I went to Thailand, Mexico, Central America, Haiti, and Kenya for some missionary work with my church with a cousin. I'm not one of those annoying people who knock on your door and try to convert you, don't worry. I just wanted to help out the people in need and spread some love and hope. In the Navy, I went to Germany when we were docked there for some repairs when a lighting hit us. Honestly, I was kinda bored in CIC on the Bunker Hill just staring at a screen of which way the 5in/62 caliber Mark 45 Mod 4 cannon was facing that’s on the bow.”
Lieutenant Valkyrie looked at me with a curious tilt of her head and asked, "You're religious?"
Drawing in a deep breath, I leaned back in my chair, my voice carrying a sense of conviction as I responded, "You see, Lieutenant, I'm not the kind of woman to knock on someone's door and ask for a chunk of their precious time. I'm not there to preach about a God they may not believe in or perhaps reject entirely. My partner is an atheist, and I hold a deep respect for her beliefs, as she does mine. It's about understanding, you know? I hail from the American South, a region famed for its genteel charm, courteous manners, and hospitality that's as warm as the sunny skies above Little Bird. The climate here, with its generous sun and heat that hangs on into the night, reminds me of home."
Another voice piped up, Pengelle's, inquisitive and bright, "Where are you from originally?"
I couldn't help but smile, a sense of pride welling up inside me as I recounted, "I'm originally from Fort Liberty, North Carolina. Spent my early years there up until '92 when I was eight, and then my family moved to Killen, Alabama. In '05, I set out for Arcane University – a chapter of my life filled with learning and growth. After I graduated in '07, I found my way back to Alabama. But the pull of this place was strong, and come spring this year, I returned."
Steven, who'd been quietly listening, chimed in with a note of admiration in his voice, "And she's got her sights on becoming an officer one day," nodding towards a familiar figure in the yard. "There she was, multitasking like a pro – flipping through the officer's preparation book and tending to the barbecue out back. I told her to take it easy, today's her first day, and there's a whole lot to take in and not jump the gun and told her that it’s good to be ambitious but."
Pengelle couldn't resist a playful jab, "That's rich coming from the guy who couldn't tell what a nozzle is made of."
Steven laughed, a bit of embarrassment in his eyes, but he owned his story. "Hey, I admit, I was rattled during the test. When one of the overseers called time, my mind scrambled, and I scribbled down 'titanium' instead of the right materials – like aluminum, brass, or polycarbonate plastic. My dad and six other siblings didn't let me live it down and called me an idiot. If I'd gotten it right, I would've scored high enough to cut Captain." His tone was light, but I could see the lesson had been learned, etched into his memory.
Lt Valkyrie looked at me with interest as she bit into a juicy piece of the BBQ. "Do you have any other relatives in the fire department?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I do. My cousin works at house sixteen. He's been there for fourteen years now. And I had two grand uncles who served at Firehouse Five in Clearlake. They were both heroes, and saved a lot of lives. They died. And then there's my great-granddad. He was a legend. He joined 24-Engine in the City of New York in 1921. He fought in World War 2, came back in 1945, and went right back to his old company. He left again in 1950 to fight in the Korean War, and returned in 1953. He stayed with 24-Engine until his retirement in 1966. He was a fireman for forty-five years, but I still have his medals and his helmet. He's my inspiration." I paused, then added with a smile, "And what about my girlfriend?"
Pengelle snorted. "She doesn't count."
Lt Valkyrie smiled back at me. "She counts."
As we enjoyed our lunch, we watched a science fiction movie on the screen. It was an old classic from 1962, set in a dystopian future of 2004. The movie depicted a world ravaged by a war that had lasted for two hundred years, and the effects of hyperinflation on the economy and society.
I was fascinated by the details of the movie, and I couldn't help asking questions. "Why do the laser weapons in the movie look so bulky and clumsy? Why do they have such sharp edges on their plastic casings?"
Steven, who saw the movie before, explained to me. "Well, the movie makers probably wanted to make the weapons look futuristic and advanced, but they didn't have the technology or the budget to make them realistic. They used cheap materials and simple designs to create the props. They also added some sound effects and flashes of light to make them seem more powerful."
I nodded, but I had more questions. "And what about the prices of everything? Why is everything so expensive in the movie? A beer costs $39, and a six-pack is almost $200. A coffee and a donut are $30, and a magazine is $39. And a motel room is over a hundred thousand dollars per night. How can anyone afford to live in this world?"
Steven sighed. "That's because of the hyperinflation, remember? The war has drained the resources of the world, and the governments have printed more and more money to pay for it. But the money has lost its value, and the prices have skyrocketed. The movie shows how the people struggle to survive in this harsh reality, and how they cope with the violence and the chaos."
We finished our lunch and I cleaned up the dishes. I put them in the dishwasher and wrapped up the leftovers for dinner. I had made a lot of BBQ, and it smelled delicious.
“Oh to warn y’all but my mouth runs more than my brain,” I said.
Suddenly, I heard a hissing sound. It sounded like water leaking. I followed the noise and found the source. It was the water tank of Squad Co 525, our fire truck. It had a crack in it, and water was dripping from it.
"Hey, Lieutenant, we have a problem!" I yelled.
Lieutenant Valkyrie came running to me. She bent down and looked under the truck with me. She cursed under her breath.
"Damn it," she said. "This is not good. This is not good at all."
She got up and walked away. She took out her radio and called the station. She told them that Squad Co 525 was out of service and that we needed a replacement. She also told them that the truck needed to be repaired as soon as possible.
She came back to me and said, "Well, the computer says it will take two weeks to fix this. Two freaking weeks. Can you believe that?"
I wanted to say something, but I decided to keep quiet. I didn't want to make things worse. I knew she was angry and frustrated.
I changed the subject, "You know, I wish I had come here in 2003 to see my cousin get married. I was nineteen then, but I was too busy working and saving money. And hiding it from my mom."
Steven, who was sitting nearby said, "I was there. It was a beautiful wedding. Linda was so happy. She thanked our dad for walking her down the aisle. She said it meant a lot to her. She said it was a symbol of our dad trusting Dave to take care of her. Our dad didn't like the idea of firefighters from different houses dating, and he still doesn't. But he likes Dave. He respects him. He gave him his blessing.
"Dave earned our dad's trust and our respect. He's a good guy. The only one who didn't like him was our mom. She just wanted them to give her lots of grandkids." He laughed. “My mom doesn’t know they have four kids already because if she found out she would want more grandchildren but I’m content with having two nephews and two nieces from them."
We just waited until the spare was brought but we left the spare outside where we just got out the mops and cleaned where the water was leaking at even though the station has a drain. After we cleaned the apparatus bay floor we then washed our spare rig and the Hazmat van then I went to take a nap because it was a peaceful day.
***
I woke up from a short nap and headed downstairs to join the rest of the crew.
“Macaroni, come here!” Steven shouted from across the room.
I walked over to see what was going on.
“We’re going to practice a medical scenario and you’re the victim. Lie down on the floor and act like you’re unconscious,” Lt Valkyrie instructed.
I obeyed and lay down on the cold concrete, closing my eyes. I tried to ignore the noise around me, but I soon felt a collar being wrapped around my neck. Then I was lifted slightly and placed on a hard board. I kept still, hoping they wouldn’t tickle me or do something worse.
I felt them carry me to a stokes basket and load me onto the hose bed. I heard Pengelle say, “Hold her steady, don’t drop her,” and Carter say, “Don’t roll her over.” They were talking to each other, but I didn’t open my eyes. I wanted to see how realistic they would make it.
After a few minutes, they took me off the hose bed and put me back on the floor.
“That was intense,” I said, opening my eyes. “What kind of training was that?”
Lt Valkyrie explained, “It was a simulation of how to handle a patient with a possible spinal injury. It could happen in a motorcycle accident, a motocross race, or any other situation where the neck is at risk.”
“I see. That makes sense,” I said. “But I have another question. Why is our crest a llama? Rescue Co 17 and Squad 141 have a Cerberus, and Thirty-Three has a camel.”
Lt Valkyrie smiled and said, “Engine Company 525’s first fire was at a llama farm. We managed to save all the llamas from the blaze, which was caused by a lightning strike. The owner was so grateful that he gave them a llama as a mascot. They named him Sparky and adopted him as our symbol.”
“I’m going back to the movie, the sequel should be coming soon,” said Steven. “Of course in the sequel, a news blurb mentions how the worldwide death toll numbers in the ‘thousands.’ Not hundreds of thousands, not tens of thousands, but ‘thousands.’ That number would barely take a dent out of a decently-sized city, and seems impossibly low given the large-scale destruction we saw in the first movie”
I replied, “It could be that in the movie the official news reports are deliberately under-reporting the number of casualties to prevent panic from rising. Also I remember when that quake hit a firefighter I know she was hoping a tidal wave wouldn’t hit but she used the term tidal wave was once used interchangeably with tsunami.”
The room buzzed with chatter, but a commanding female voice sliced through the din. “Steven, I have some updates for you.” The voice belonged to a striking woman with raven-black hair and mesmerizing hazel-green eyes, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit and overcoat.
As Steven approached her, I found myself captivated by a series of photos on the wall. I feigned interest in them, but my real focus was their conversation. It wasn’t long before Steven waved me over.
“Meet Detective Aurora, my girlfriend,” Steven introduced, “And Aurora, this is our fresh recruit, fondly known as Macaroni. And this is Det…”
I replied, “Zofia. I know I knocked her out once.”
As we shook hands, I was surprised by the firmness of her grip, but I managed to match it.
“Five years with the 11th Special Operations Battalion, specializing in close-quarters combat,” she revealed. “Now, I’m a Burglary Detective. I was just updating Steven about a recent case involving a company under renovation.”
Intrigued, I ventured, “Let me guess, a disgruntled ex-employee returned to settle a score with his former boss?”
“Exactly,” Detective Aurora confirmed. “But the puzzle is how he gained access to the floor. The doors require a key, which he should have surrendered upon his dismissal. I suspect that he made a copy before his termination. The building’s doors are designed to lock automatically from the inside and can only be unlocked from the stairwell with a key.”
I pondered, “Could he have used a rope to scale a floor?”
Detective Aurora dismissed the idea, “That would have been too noticeable. The only reason why the 525 was called in was because there was no other way to reach him. The floors above and below were also locked and deserted due to the renovations.
"The workers are on paid leave until the renovations are completed in two months. The alternative would be risking a lawsuit if a worker was injured by falling debris, like a paintbrush, a hammer, or even a piece of drywall. But I’ll go back but the only thing I can do is charge him with trespassing and stealing a $40 azure blue typewriter and a $1 red ink balldot pen.”
I was about to interject when Detective Aurora continued, “Little Bird may be a police state, but we can’t just slap random charges on people. I need evidence that he either kept private property or made a copy of the key. Otherwise, I can’t charge him with having access to it without breaking and entering.”
Steven chimed in, “Well, our probie made some mouthwatering BBQ. How about I go and reheat a piece for you?”
Detective Aurora refused, then she returned to her car and drove off.
“A cop and a firefighter dating,” I mused, “I’ve seen that before, but it ended differently.”
Steven queried, “What are you implying?”
“Oh, my girlfriend Claire. Her first girlfriend, Zofia, is a cop. They were dating when Zofia was in University, but they broke up because Zofia couldn’t handle that Claire has a dangerous job,” I explained
Steven retorted, “That’s hypocritical. Cry about having a girlfriend, being a firefighter then join the police department in the burglary division. I know the divisions the department has and it’s Patrol, Traffic, Homicide, Vice, Arson, Bunco, and Burglary. But your girlfriend, her ex who was here, well she’s hypocritical.”
I went and decided just to walk around a bit until I asked if there was a gym but I was told that there wasn’t because the rooms in the firehouse is just the kitchen-dining room, common room, showers, sleeping quarters, maintenance, and laundry room.
“Well I was planning on working on my cardio,” I said, “I wish there was a gym here.”
Carter replied, “Why are you here?”
“I was assigned here,” I said, “And you can stow your high and mighty attitude?”
Carter replied, “You can play it however you want it. It’s going to take a lot more than just doing your job to impress me.”
“Well I’m not going to do anything to impress you,” I said. “My dad didn’t raise me to be a people pleaser. If you won’t ever trust me for being a coworker. Don’t worry, the feeling is mutual.”
Throughout the day I mostly worked on my cardio by going up and down the stairs. But hours went by but I had no idea if it was one of those days where it flew by or just the calls we would’ve gone to were handled by Rescue 17 just half a district and two blocks away.
***
As dawn broke, I found myself in the kitchen-dining area humming with life.
Steven, with a grin that stretched from ear to ear, announced, “I made the call yesterday at lunch. We’ve found our new chef.”
Lt Valkyrie, raising an eyebrow, asked, “And who might have taught you your culinary skills?”
Settling into my chair, I responded, “My father was my mentor. Today’s breakfast is a hearty dish of fourteen eggs whisked with milk. In a small bowl, combine three heaping scoops of pepper and a tablespoon of salt. Stir it into the eggs, adding a hint of garlic powder. Then, fold in some cheddar cheese. Use a small tab of butter or some cooking oil, let it heat up, and then pour in the egg mixture. While cooking add some more shredded cheese into the eggs until the eggs are done. My father and I always used a spoon to fluff them up.”
Steven, puzzled, asked, “Why did you save the bacon and sausage grease in a sealable aluminum can?”
I explained, “It’s because of the ongoing war. We all have to contribute to the war effort in our own ways.”
Carter chimed in, “But the military already has a supply of grease. They get it from steaks, pot roasts, hamburgers, hams, bacon, sausages, pork lunchbox meat, corned beef hash, and Visese sausages.”
I countered, “I’m skeptical that corned beef hash produces any grease. I’ve never cooked it myself and frankly, I’m not a fan. Another day I’ll make y’all homemade bacon cheese cheeseburger. It’s a cheeseburger with cheese inside with bacon on it. My dad made them every other week. I got a whole list of my dad’s recipes I want y’all to try.
"Also there’s enough left over I put a sticky note that B shift can have the rest. Also no I’m not giving y’all every single recipe I got from my dad where the one for the eggs is on the house the rest is a family secret.”
After we had done the dishes we left and let B shift take over. I went over to my car and noticed a slashed tire and a broken window.
“If Echelon Enterprises want a round two then I’ll give them a round two,” I said as I went to the trunk and got a spare tire, jack and tire iron and changed the tire but I got the glass off of my seat but instead of going home I just went to a mechanic shop to get a new window, a new spare tire and to replace the flat tire that I kept to give to the shop so they could send it to a recycling place.