Mississippi Nights

by D. M. Webb

  She started shaking. “I don’t have money. Bobby will be back. He’ll find me.” Her lips trembled. Blood pooled at the edges.

  He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed her mouth as the door opened. “Here. Hold this. When you get to the hospital, there will be a woman there. She will help you, okay? You just worry about getting well.”

  Two paramedics hurried to Mrs. Pearson’s side. Jeremy sidestepped their stretcher and looked up to see Baers enter the house.

  “Not here?”

  Jeremy motioned him outside. Once on the porch, he shook his head. “Took off, but not before beating the mess out of her. He’s after Franklin. I know he is.”

  “Where’s Franklin at? And how did he figure Franklin was giving us the info?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t know. But Franklin’s got a big mouth. I’ll call in Detective Sparrow. He’ll want to know.” He shuffled out of the way as the paramedics wheeled Mrs. Pearson down the small, bare yard to the ambulance.

  “Sure no one is here?” Baers peered inside. “Small home.”

  “Yeah. She had the door latched–a chain. That’s a joke.” Jeremy followed Baers inside and down the tiny hall. “I don’t think he stayed here often. Ripped a hundred and twenty dollars off dear old gran.”

  Baers pushed open a door on their right. “Grandma’s room.”

  Jeremy pushed open the opposite door. “Bobby’s room. Practically bare.” He stepped inside. No pictures or posters on the walls. Closet with no door. A few jeans and a shirt hung inside. He turned on the closet light. Nothing on the shelf.

  Baers grunted. “Nothing under the bed. This place is empty.”

  “Yeah. He’s not doing business here.” Jeremy shut the door behind them. “I’ll have the place taped off and get the crew out here in the morning. There’s got to be something to lead us to the lab.”

  Baers peered into the miniature kitchen. “Smaller than my sister’s trailer.”

  “Poor side of Jasper City. Old houses. Guarantee the plumbing’s never been updated.” He flipped through some of the magazines lying on the wobbly coffee table: Reader’s Digest, Woman’s Day, and a Sunday school book. He paused over that. It was the same kind his church used. He read the date. Last quarter’s lesson book. He thumbed through the stacks. Two more lesson books were buried, but there was no recent publication.

  “Find something, Jer?” Baers peered out the window.

  “Not really. Sunday school lesson books. Three old ones but not a new one.”

  “Thinking donations?”

  “Probably.” Jeremy replaced the old lesson book. “I’ll check it out. Call a few of the churches and see if they donate the old books.”

  Baers stepped out onto the porch. Jeremy paused in the doorway and cocked his head. A slight sound, like that of breaking glass, sounded from one of the bedrooms.

  “Baers. Someone’s back.” He pulled his gun and started to reenter. A sudden whoosh of hot air swept down the hall. He dove for cover. “We got a fire!”

  Baers, haloed by his car’s blue strobe lights, jumped off the porch and into the yard. Jeremy stumbled to his feet and onto the porch. The fire consumed its way down the hallway, eating at the walls and wooden floor.

  “Call it–” Something hit his chest. Pain blasted into him. His body flew back into the opened doorway. His breath left him. The door’s threshold dug into his neck.

  Two more popping sounds echoed in the air.

  Baers shouted into the radio. “Shots fired! Man down!”

  Behind him, the fire roared. Baers shouted a curse. Then, hands pulled at Jeremy, dragging him away from the fire and heat.

  Jeremy struggled to breathe and to keep his eyes open. His arms refused to move. He wasn’t ready. Oh, please, not yet. He blinked against the fading darkness.

  : : : : :

  “Engine Two en route!” David replaced the radio in its slot and held on as Toby shifted the gears. “Slow it, Toby!”

  Toby downshifted and hung a sharp left. David gripped the dashboard tighter and shouted a string of curses at him.

  Toby laughed. “Lighten up, dude. I am one with the truck.”

  “You’re gonna be one with my fist if you kill us before we get there.”

  A strained voice, staccato-like, sounded over the radio. “Dispatch, show Engine Three on scene. Calling scene command. Single residence. Fully involved.”

  David banged his fist against the dashboard. He spit out a hard oath. Again, Station Two beat them to the scene. “That’s two, Toby. We gotta get our boys moving faster.”

  Toby shook his head and laughed. Ahead a single, small house lit the neighborhood in an orange glow. Engine Three’s lines stretched and belched water. Toby jammed the brakes, and their truck hissed to a stop. David grabbed his mike. “Dispatch. Engine Two on scene.”

  David vaulted out onto the pavement. He waved to Jake Patterson, Station Two’s lieutenant–his scene command competition.

  “Jason, grab the cross lays! John, grab a plug!” David strode to Jake’s side. “Situation?”

  Toby yelled from the pump. “Water’s coming!”

  A sudden hiss erupted as Jason’s line belched water onto the fire.

  “Just containment. The house is shot.” Jake motioned towards the side. “Propane’s been out for months. We were lucky enough to get the gas off before the flashover pushed us out.”

  “What happened?” He motioned for Toby to raise the pressure and touched his mike. “John, catch the left side. Got a flare-up.”

  “Some hood torched the back room.” Jake jabbed a thumb over at the ambulance. “Cop was hit by the person who set the fire. I called Inspector Dawson. He’ll be here in the morning. As usual.”

  “Cop?” David peered over Jake’s shoulder. Two uniforms stood at the back of the ambulance. He recognized Markston, who nodded, slapped Baers on the shoulder, and walked off. Baers moved away from the ambulance’s back door. David’s eyes widened. Jeremy sat on the edge, a pretty little paramedic working on him.

  He bit back his curse. “That’s Jeremy. Hold the line. I’ll be right back.”

  “No hurry, man. Fire ain’t going anywhere.” Jake strode forward and guided the second hose’s aim to the roof.

  David hurried to the ambulance. He slowed a few steps away and removed his helmet. “Jeremy?”

  His brother, leaning heavily upon his hands, looked up. Pain laced his eyes. His words slurred. “Yo, little brother.”

  David looked at Baers. “They doped him?”

  Baers nodded. “Got hit. Check it out.” He held up Jeremy’s vest encased in a plastic bag.

  David let out a low whistle. The hole was the size of his fingertip. He took it from Baers and studied it. “That was an impact. What? A forty-five?”

  “Looks like.”

  David knelt in front of his brother. “Hey, Jer? You awake, man?”

  Jeremy raised his head again and smiled a dopey smile. “Yeah. See the bruise?” Jeremy pointed to his bare chest and at the red blotch above his heart.

  David ran his fingertips across it, pressing lightly, and Jeremy cringed. Nothing seemed broken. “Yeah, that’s a big one.” He looked at the paramedic. “Vitals?”

  “All good. The vest took the impact. No obvious sign of trauma.” She handed Jeremy his shirt and pack of cigarettes. “Hold on to these.” Then she looked up at the other officer. “Officer Baers, he’s good to go. He’ll be at Jasper Medical.”

  “I got him.” David gripped his brother under his right arm and helped him into the back of the ambulance. “Come on. Let’s get you onto the stretcher, okay?”

  “Sure.” Jeremy fell against the white-covered foam. “I don’t think my eyes are working very well.”

  David laughed. “They’re fine. You’re just doped up. Get your feet up there.” He pulled at Jeremy’s legs, sliding his feet onto the stretcher.

  Jeremy’s head lolled around, eyes hidden behind a hand. David laid his helmet to the side and turned to
the paramedic. “I need you to call his home.”

  She nodded and wrote down the number David recited.

  Jeremy called out to him. “Hey, little brother, look at this. My pack’s totaled.” He waved his pack of cigarettes in the air.

  Morphine was some good stuff.

  David, with a roll of his eyes, grabbed the pack from his brother’s hand. He studied the package. The center had caved at such a depth that the cigarettes had expelled strands of tobacco out their tops. David pulled out a few. They crumbled to the floor of the ambulance.

  “Where’d you have them?”

  Jeremy tapped his chest and winced. “Top pocket. Behind my vest.” He reached below him and pulled out another pack from his cargo pants. His fingers shook as he tried to slip a cigarette between his lips.

  The paramedic ripped it out of his mouth and threw it in the biohazard bag. “No smoking.”

  “I’ll take those.” David snatched the second package from his brother’s hands. “I thought you were quitting.”

  Jeremy laughed. “I am.” He closed his eyes and belted out a song. “It’s lonely tonight! All the stars are bright! But you didn’t tell me you were leaving me . . .”

  The little woman secured Jeremy to the stretcher. “He’s going to be a little out of it for a while.”

  “I’ll say. He’s serenading an ambulance.”

  She climbed back in front and nodded to her partner before turning to David. “Either you go with us or you hop out. Which is it?”

  David gave his brother one last look. Jeremy would be okay. He hopped out the back. Baers slammed the doors shut. The ambulance pulled away, and David watched his brother disappear around the curve.

  “He’s fine, David. They just have to check him out.” Baers slapped his back, but David didn’t respond. “He’s fine. Bruised is all. This is just procedure.”

  “I know.” David held up the destroyed package. “Did you know he carried a pack in his shirt?”

  Baers took the crumpled package and turned it over and over in his hands. His meaty finger traced the depression. “God works in mysterious ways. This helped absorb the impact.”

  “Yeah. Lucky him.” David took the package back and slid it inside his turnouts alongside the other one. “I gotta get back to the fire.”

  He slammed his helmet on his head. He had a job to do. He’d worry about his brother later. As he trudged to the fire, he noticed most of the flames were dead.

  He met Jake at the edge of the house. Jake looked over at him. “How’s he doing?”

  “Banged up. Vest caught the bullet. Nice big bruise.” David touched his mike. “Jason, hose the left-side window one more time.” The wind blew a mist of water his way and onto his face. A cool spray against the fire building within him. David stood there, watching the water run off the roof and onto the ground.

  He nudged Jake. “Well, you got scene command. So, what’s next?”

  He listened as Jake rattled off tasks, but his mind was on his brother, who could have been killed tonight. David heaved a big sigh. He pushed that thought from his mind and followed Jake to the trucks. There wasn’t much left to do other than clean up. He radioed for Toby to shut the pumps down. Repetition. Fight the fire. Clean up after the fire. No thinking allowed.

  : : : : :

  David leaned his head against the seat as Toby backed the engine into the bay. The air brakes whooshed. He threw open his door and hopped down onto the cement floor. No thoughts. Not yet. On autopilot, he pressed the button to lower the bay doors. They settled against the floor with a grinding hiss.

  He tore his helmet from his head and strode past the red truck, leaving Toby to the engine check. John was stripping off his turnouts. Jason had the side panels opened, stowing away the loose equipment. Pent-up energy pushed him past them to the corner, where he pulled off his own turnouts. He unhooked his jacket, and Jeremy’s packs fell to the floor. He eyed them as he stepped out of his boots, pushing the bunker pants down over them and draping the suspenders to the side.

  His jacket fell across the bench behind him. The smell of soot and ash wafted up his nose as he leaned down to fasten his work boots. Sweat trickled a cold trail down his spine. He grabbed up the cigarettes. The first of the body tremors worked their way through his gut.

  “Toby! I’m in the office. Handle the engine, will ya?”

  He didn’t wait for Toby’s reply. The door to the office opened at his kick. He pushed it to with his foot and plopped down on the chair. His cell phone lay by the run reports. Its angry red light flashed at him. His hand shook as he reached for it.

  With a snarl, he opened it. Three missed calls: one from his mom and two from Sarah. He dialed Sarah’s number.

  She answered on the first ring. “Where are you?”

  “At the station. I just got back from the scene.” He lowered his head into his hands, balancing the phone at his left ear with his thumb.

  “You should’ve been here with him.”

  David gritted his teeth. Anger burned a thin line next to self control. “He’s fine. I made sure of that. I couldn’t leave the scene.”

  “Since when are you so rule oriented?” Sarah snapped. “Don’t bother to come. He’s checking out right now.”

  The phone went silent. David scrubbed at his face. Now he was the bad guy. What did they want from him? He dialed his mom’s number.

  A cacophony greeted him. Sarah’s upset voice, his dad’s placating tones, and the beeps, intercom, and alarms of a busy hospital almost drowned out his mom’s voice.

  “David. Are you okay, sweetie? Sarah’s in a rile about you.”

  “I know. I couldn’t leave the scene, Mom, but Jeremy was okay. I made sure of it.”

  “I know. You wouldn’t have left him if it was serious. How are you doing?”

  David shrugged. “I’m fine. Scared me at first. Just coming down from the adrenaline rush.” He slumped in his chair and twirled it to look out the window. His feet propped against the windowsill, pushing at the half-closed blinds.

  “You’ll be fine. Take a breather.” Her voice faded away and then came back. “Jeremy’s discharged. We’re heading home now. He’s perfectly fine. No broken ribs, but plenty sore.”

  “I bet. That was a hard impact.” David fiddled with his brother’s pack of cigarettes with a shaky hand. “I’ll call him in the morning. After Satan Sarah cools.”

  His mom laughed softly. “She’ll calm down, you know that. Call me if you need to.”

  “I will, Mom.” He closed his phone and stared up at the ceiling. Too bad he was on duty. He really needed a drink. A knock sounded at the door.

  Toby peered in as David turned around. “Got the engine prepped. You doing the run report?”

  “About to start it.”

  “I’ll do it. You go take a break, get some rest. Jeremy doing okay?” Toby rounded the desk and picked up the paperwork.

  David stood. He rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension. “Yeah. Bruised. Nothing broken.” The phone slipped into his pocket along with the pack. “I’m going to step out for a moment.”

  “Okay.” Toby sat at the desk. He pulled the report to him as David opened the door.

  “Hey, Toby.” His friend looked up at him. “Thanks.”

  “No problem, dude.” He lowered his sweat-matted head back to the paperwork as David slipped out of the office.

  He walked the length of the small hall. He peeked inside the dayroom to his left. John and Jason sat on the sofa, a platter of fries in front of them, watching the flat screen. He had no desire to join them yet. Later he’d head over to Station Two and check on those guys. Station Three could wait until the morning.

  The cold air met him as he pushed through the back door. Typical March weather. Never could make up its mind if it wanted to be hot or cold. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and leaned against the brick wall. His fingers fondled the plastic pack.

  The security light gleamed on the plastic when h
e pulled it out of his pocket. Marlboro Reds, strong stuff. He pulled one out and twirled it around his fingers. It’d been a long time since he’d smoked one. He breathed enough smoke from the fires to never smoke a cigarette again; but, this might be strong enough to kill his craving for a drink.

  He shrugged. Nothing to lose for trying. The cigarette slid between his lips. He opened the door. By the doorway, a box of matches lay on top of the shelf next to the charcoal and lighter fluid. David grabbed the box. He squatted, his back propped against the wall, and lit one of the matches. With a shaky hand, he shielded the light and held it to the cigarette.

  Its tip glowed. He inhaled. The smoke burned a path into his lungs, which spasmed once. A hard cough threatened to rip his bronchial tubes out. Sheesh, that was strong! He coughed again. Soon his body adjusted to the old, familiar friend. He took another drag and sank down to the ground. Through the lightheadedness, he smoked one more hit, dragging the noxious cloud deep into his lungs.

  His head hung between his knees as the nicotine rushed through his system. The call of a drink slowly diminished until it was a faint cry in the dark.

  He held the cigarette to his lips. From one extreme to another. He took one last pull and flicked the cigarette away. The nasty thing did its job. The shaking stopped. He looked up and watched the stars burn in the night sky. Now, if he could only hold out until morning.

  Chapter 6

  JEREMY STARED AT THE ceiling in the dark gloom. Morning had come, and his aching body decided to wake up before anyone else. Outside the window, the haze of sunrise barely lit the sky. Beside him, Sarah breathed deeply, her hand resting on his stomach. He propped his arms behind his head. Sleep eluded him. His body craved a cigarette, but it also didn’t want to move.

  He couldn’t stay in bed, no matter how inviting it felt.

  He rubbed at his eyes and reached down to remove Sarah’s arm. She could sleep through a tornado. The only thing that would wake her was the obnoxious alarm. He struggled to sit, his right hand gently holding his shoulder.

  The clock showed another five minutes before the alarm would wake his wife. He eased to his feet and shuffled across the bedroom to their bathroom. He quietly closed the door behind him.