by J. Thorn
“I don’t know, Robert. I’m tired. Do we know if Mountain Energy shut off the gas?”
“You’re the reporter, honey. I’m the cameraman. Maybe you should do some reporting?”
Kelly rolled her eyes and thrust a hip out to one side. She dropped the microphone until it rested on her thigh. “You’re right, Robert. I need to thoroughly investigate. Speak to the shift commander. Write up a draft. I’m sure we’ll be back at the station in time for you to drop your kids off at school.”
Robert closed his eyes. He hated her games, but if that was what it took, he was willing to play. “I’ll find out. You wait here.”
Kelly nodded, not enthused by her petty victory.
Robert locked the camera in place on the tripod and walked back toward the engine, where Doug remained in the passenger seat. He bypassed the friendly chatter and went with a more direct approach. “Did the gas company flip the switch?”
Doug kept talking, ignoring Robert or pretending not to hear him.
“Doug! Did the gas company flip the switch? Give me that and we’ll do the shoot and get the fuck out of here.”
“Yes. They cut the entire street.” He looked at Robert, raising his eyebrows as if expecting him to honor the deal. Robert gave him a half-hearted thumbs-up and walked back to where Kelly stood.
“Unless we get a fireball in the next thirty seconds, let’s shoot this thing and get out of here. The gas company shut off the main valve to the entire street. The only other shot we’re going to get is men holding their hoses.” Robert laughed at the innuendo, but Kelly remained stoic.
“Then let’s go. This part of town always gives me the creeps.”
Robert bent down and put his face to the viewfinder, centering Kelly within the shot. He waited for her as she drew her lips in to make sure the lipstick was spread evenly. He could not help but picture them wrapped around his dick. He fought through the urges with a growing bulge in his pants that was hidden by years of fast food and beer. Robert held up three fingers, counting down in silence.
“The Pine Valley shift commander has confirmed that Mountain Gas has turned off the gas supply to the street, which should prevent any further explosions. The house was believed to be vacant, which is good news for surrounding residents, as there are no injuries or fatalities to report.”
“What ‘surrounding residents’ are you talking about? Nobody has lived on this street for years. We need to shoot it again.”
Kelly sighed and rubbed her face. The stench of burning plastic was beginning to irritate her eyes, and if that made them look puffy on camera, she was going to be pissed. “Can’t we have production make the edits?”
“We used to call that ‘fix in the mix’ back in my days as an audio engineer. It’s not as professional as getting the takes right to begin with. Let’s shoot it again so we can pack up and get out of here.”
Kelly shook her head. She knew what he wanted and could not figure out why he wouldn’t take the most direct path to attain it. Shooting it again would take longer, which meant he’d have to wait longer for his reward. “Whatever. The smoke is getting to me. Cue it up, and let’s do this.”
Robert nodded and put his head back into the viewfinder. He held up his fingers again and waited for Kelly to begin.
“The Pine Valley shift commander has confirmed that Mountain Gas has turned off the gas supply to the street, which should prevent any further explosions. The house was believed to be vacant, which is good news. There are no injuries or fatalities to report. I’m Kelly Swift reporting for Channel 3, WPVD. Phil, back to you.”
“And cut,” said Robert.
Kelly waited, knowing that they sometimes had to shoot the live shot three or four times to frame things right. It would be spliced into the news during the next day, the first segment appearing as though Phil and Kelly were communicating directly, an old trick in the industry.
“Wrap?” she asked.
Robert paused, and then nodded. He glanced at the timestamp on his camera’s LCD display and realized that he’d have to settle for one blow job tonight and nothing more. “Let’s break down and get out of here.”
Kelly tossed the microphone at him and walked toward the engine rig. The men on the house continued to douse the fire, turning flames into billowing drafts of smoke. Her hair was ruined, and her clothes smelled like burning tires, but her time on camera was over for now. She could afford to be less than perfect.
“Ms. Swift?”
She turned to see the blue uniform of an EMS worker. He stood well over six feet, with dark hair and a five o’clock shadow covering his rugged face. Kelly felt a flutter in her stomach as the man approached. “Kelly.”
“Nice to meet you, Kelly,” he replied with a firm handshake. “I’m with East Fallowfield EMS. I don’t think you cover our calls.”
Kelly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up into his eyes. “Don’t think you have too many fires there. Not as many people, more rural.”
“That’s a shame. I think it wouldn’t be so bad getting called out if I knew you were going to be there.”
Kelly smiled and let a nervous giggle escape. “Name?”
“I’m sorry?” he asked, intoxicated by her laugh.
“What’s your name?”
“Oh,” he replied, the grime from the fire covering his red face. “Johnny. John.”
“Johnny or John, which is it?”
“My friends call me Johnny, but it sounds so juvenile.”
“Pleasure to meet you, John,” Kelly said, accentuating the single-syllable version of his name.
“Let’s roll,” Robert said from behind her, and she turned to see him at her side. He fidgeted on both feet and stepped between her and John.
“Well, we need to get the van back to the station. It was a real pleasure meeting you, John. I’d say I hope we run into each other again, but that might be a bit macabre, given the situation.”
John smiled and felt the hatred wafting from Robert. He ignored the jealousy. “Maybe we can arrange something that doesn’t involve a burning, abandoned house in the shitty part of town?”
Before Kelly could respond, shouts came from the burnt-out basement. Firefighters ran toward it, and Kelly looked at Robert. They both knew their shift was not over quite yet.
***
Doug stuck his head out of the rig, placing his hands on the top of the door. He looked like a seagull scanning low tide for dinner. Shouts came from the house as the smoldering frame hissed with dripping water. The EMS guys ran, too, and it wasn’t long before he realized what was happening.
They had found a survivor.
Doug swung back into the cab and grabbed the radio off the seat. “This is engine to dispatch. Tell ER we’ve got one coming. Repeat. We’ve got a survivor. Over.”
He tossed it back to the floor and jumped from the cab. He saw the reflective stripes on Eddie’s and Sal’s suits. They were tossing chunks of lumber and debris over their shoulders, picking through layers of charred waste. Frank and the hose crew kept the water on the house as the last of the flames fell beneath the flood. With the blaze contained and the gas line off, Doug knew they could safely work to extract whatever poor soul had been caught inside.
As he approached the driveway, the cameraman and reporter appeared next to him. The man had his camera on a shoulder with a bright LED light perched on top, illuminating a part of the scene. The woman was a step behind, trying to navigate the wet pavement in her heels.
“Back off,” Doug said.
“I’m getting this,” Robert replied.
Doug stepped in front of Robert. He put his hands on his hips and sneered from behind his mask. “For your own safety, step back behind the line.”
Doug waved at the yellow caution tape that Sal had strung in front of the scene even though it was unlikely anyone from this neighborhood would be gawking at it. Kelly looked at it, and then her attention was back to the house, where more shouts came from the rescue crew.
“C’mon, Doug. At least let me get a few feet closer.”
Doug put his index finger into Robert’s chest. He drove it into the man’s sternum like a screwdriver. “Back off, Robert. I’m not saying it again. You wouldn’t dare fuck with Frank like this. Have some respect.”
Robert sighed and took a half step backward as if conceding to Doug’s stubborn protocol. Doug turned and ran for the house. He could not waste any more time babysitting the local media while possible survivors lay in the wreckage. Flashing blue and red lights hit the side of the engine rig and gave him a little piece of mind. Pine Valley Police Department had arrived and would keep the sleaze merchants from moving any closer.
***
“How many?” Doug shouted to Frank.
The grizzled firefighter had torn his mask from his face after dropping the hose and signaling for the hydrant to be closed. They would have to hit the house with another hour or so of water to make sure nothing reignited, but that would wait until they had cleared the scene of survivors, or bodies, or both.
“Two so far.”
“Fatalities?”
“Not sure yet, boss. Still trying to dig them out. At least one, I’m hoping. Dead people don’t move.”
Doug nodded. “Where did you see movement?” he asked.
“Behind that brick wall. It used to be the old coal room, back when they used to deliver it to heat the furnace. But we gotta clear a path first.” Frank tossed red bricks to the side as he spoke to Doug.
Eddie grabbed Doug’s elbow. “Got a few over here,” he said, screaming through his mask, which he had not yet removed.
Sal was on all fours, lifting hunks of wood and brick off the pile. Doug dropped to his knees and began doing the same. His gloves helped protect his hands from the heat, but he could feel the bruises forming from the constant pummeling of stone and pipe. The upper floors that had not blown outward had slid down onto the ground floor, which had then crumpled into the basement. The layers of rubble made it difficult to see and treacherous to navigate.
Doug had never seen such a disastrous scene. Pine Valley had its share of calls, and most of those were car accidents or minor fires. He had never seen a building explode before. Doug could see himself as if floating above, like a rescue worker at the scene of an earthquake, digging and yelling while people died beneath it. Along with the bricks, Doug began to uncover fragments of clothing. Some of it appeared wrapped around bone, old and burnt. He didn’t have the time to think any more of it, as they had to keep digging for the living.
Doug glanced at Frank and saw he was coming closer to the remains of a brick wall. The explosion had torn uneven rows off the top, but the rest of it held. Doug thought that if someone had been inside that coal room or behind the wall, they would stand the best chance of survival. If they had been drinking or shooting crack in an upstairs bedroom, Pine Valley’s finest would find what was left of them out on the street.
He thought he heard a whimper. Doug could not be sure, with the massive chaos all around, and he put his ear to the rubble and held his breath.
He heard it again, a soft cry hidden beneath wailing sirens and hissing, smoldering wood.
Eddie and Sal had someone by the shoulders, and they were dragging the body out. By all accounts, the person looked dead to Doug, but everything had been blackened by the fire, making it impossible to tell. Once they brought bodies out of the structure, it would be up to EMS and the ER to save lives. None of that mattered if the firefighters did not do their job.
He watched as Sal slung the body over his shoulders and stepped through the rubble toward the driveway. Doug could not tell if the person was male or female, young or old, alive or dead. Eddie came out a few seconds later, also carrying a person across his back. Doug watched them stagger away and realized he had a possible survivor, too. He looked at Frank near the brick wall. He had stopped digging and was now staring at Doug.
***
Frank thought it was impossible. Unless the person trapped beneath Doug’s feet had a radio, there was no way he should be hearing voices inside his helmet. Frank smiled and thought of his Aunt Bertie. He remembered how it started for her. First the refrigerator would speak to her, and within a few years, she was being spoon fed Jell-O while lunching with Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
Better keep those sneaky voices to yourself, partner, he thought. But he knew he wasn’t experiencing the first signs of dementia. Frank heard the cries, and judging from where Doug was standing, he had, too.
“You got something?” he shouted to Doug. The raging noise of the fire had subsided to a low-level hum of hissing wood and reverberating sirens. He didn’t have to shout now that Doug had stopped sucking from his bottle, too, but he did anyways.
“I heard something over here. I think someone’s trapped.”
You ain’t stealing my medal, you boastful son of a bitch. Frank stood motionless, imagining Doug standing next to the mayor with a ribbon around his neck and a plaque in one hand while he stood off to the side, clapping politely with the rest of the town. That was how it started. You teach and train and care for the young guys, and what do they leave you with at the end? Nothing but old stories and patronizing responsibilities. Sure, Frank was still on the crew now. He was on engine. But how long would it be before he was relegated to permanent cook? The only fire he’d see would be from the burner of the gas range back at the house. There was nothing wrong with cooking for the crew. They all took their turns, even though some were better than others. Sal’s hotdog casserole usually ended with the men lining up for the restroom. But Frank was not about to become the company’s maid. He had spent the best years of his life sacrificing his time, his family, and his health to protect Pine Valley, and he was not about to let them put him out to pasture. He was not about to let Doug put him out to pasture.
“Let me see,” Frank replied, bumping Doug in the shoulder as he dropped an ear to the rubble.
Doug waited as Frank remained motionless. The sirens subsided as neighboring companies either pulled up and confirmed that the fire was contained or had already left, dispatched to a call in their own towns. The Pine Valley police remained, as did the Channel 3 news van, but other than the sun creeping over the foggy ridges of the mountains, no other spectators had shown up. Most of the citizens of Pine Valley would see the story told by Kelly in the first segment Robert taped when they had arrived at the scene.
Frank shifted his weight and turned his head to listen with the other ear.
“Help.”
He heard it. That single, universal word. It almost didn’t matter if it was that word or not. Frank knew from experience it meant that someone was suffering and that he had to help.
“Did you hear something?” Doug asked, seeing the twitch in Frank’s body and realizing he had.
“Shut up,” replied Frank, waiting to hear it again.
Aunt Bertie’s fridge? Frank shook his head, dispelling the question posed by his own mind.
“Help me.”
If the voice originated from inside his head, Frank thought he was already too far gone and should be eating Jell-O for dinner. It was too clear. He knew he heard it.
“Lift the two by fours gently but quickly,” he said to Doug. Frank took over this rescue operation regardless of what the stripes on their shoulders said. “Toss them as far to the side as possible, but make sure you don’t clutter our path back to the driveway.”
Doug nodded and followed Frank’s instructions. Frank felt the magnetic pull of the voice below the rubble. He was going to pull that person out even if he had to sacrifice his own life to do it. Frank had to save them.
“What about that one?”
Frank ignored Doug’s question, trying hard to focus on the voice coming from below.
“Frank!”
Frank turned his face up to Doug while his hands kept clearing debris.
“The one by the wall. Didn’t you see movement over there?”
He’s tryi
ng to question your judgment. Don’t you see? He’s telling you how to do your job. Frank’s mouth twisted as his thoughts set their own fires inside his mind. “Then get over there and do your fucking job. I’ve got this,” he said, his eyes pointing down to the rubble where the voice came from and then shooting back at Doug.
Doug nodded, trying to shake the confusion from his face. He stepped over Frank and hopped toward the brick wall, leaving Frank lying atop a pile of rubble.
***
Doug saw the sky turning from a velvety black to a muffled orange hue. Daylight was breaking, and that always put a new perspective on the job. The mysterious black holes and crevices would be revealed as nothing more than places the fire had not been able to penetrate. He tried to use the coming day as a beacon of hope. He thought about his family. Provided the natural gas had not gathered in a pocket somewhere, he would be off his shift soon and back at home, away from the firehouse for another forty-eight hours.
He glanced over at Frank and shook his head. They were all tired, and the company hadn’t seen a fire like this for some time. The adrenaline had worn off long ago, and now they pushed through as best they could. In his heart, Doug doubted they would pull anyone alive from this pile of ruin. Movement did not guarantee survival. Many died in the ambulance, and most passed on a table in the ER. The human body was not meant to burn, and when it did, it rarely survived.
It was then that Doug heard the cough. It was faint and deep in the basement, behind the wall, but he heard it. With a shot of hope, he scrambled over the bricks that Frank had tossed to the side and began his own dig. The cough came again, and this time he noticed that the light pattern below had changed. He aimed his head beam into the hole where a pair of eyes, red and blinking, looked back.
***
“Hurry. Get me out.”
Frank shuddered at the sound. The voice sounded frail and helpless. He pushed debris to the side and launched some over his head. If Eddie and Sal were too stupid to stay out of his way, then they deserved to be hit by it.
He turned his light toward the hole but could not see anything but more rubble. Frank saw the charred box of a board game, a happy family from 1970 exchanging whimsical glances while sitting around a card table. He pushed aside an old photograph. The stoic woman looked at him through the centuries and across time. He saw chunks of brown glass, most likely the remnants of parties held in the vacant house by disenchanted teenagers, as if there were any other kind.
