“Stop that thing,” said JFK, taking a step backward. “Do they bite? Pick it up, Booter.”
“Calm down,” said Emily. She walked forward and scooped up the pig with her initial on it.
Slade walked slowly into the dayroom and held out his hands in front of the recliners. Maybe it would keep the other pigs where they were so they didn’t wander all over the station. He couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.
“I’ll call animal control,” said Cap.
“Wait,” said Emily. “What will they do with them?”
“I dunno,” said Cap. “Detain them? Release them into the wild? Put them down? Make BLTs? All I know is they’ll get them out of here.”
“I have a better idea,” she answered. “There’s a new animal rescue that takes all sorts of animals. I saw them on a news feature. They’re a no-kill shelter.” She pulled out her phone and sat down in the recliner the pig had vacated. “Here it is. Two Hearts Rescue.” She read off the number and Cap dialed.
It didn’t ring long.
“Sorry to bug you, this is Captain Compton over at Fire Station 1. We have a pig infestation.”
He listened.
“Six. Little guys, pot-bellied it looks like. Better behaved than my senior firefighter.”
Another pause.
“Great. Hey, you’re a life saver.” He hung up. “Fifteen minutes. She just has to hook up her trailer.”
“Looks like you got this, Powers,” said Old Guy. He turned around and shuffled back to his dorm.
Link was right behind him.
“We got this, needle fairies,” said JFK to the retreating paramedics. “Stinking medics.”
The banter between the truck crew and the medics was normal, but the medics valued their sleep more than banter this time.
Slade spoke up. “Let’s herd them into the bathroom.”
The other three looked at him as if surprised he had spoken, and Slade had to remind himself that he was the boot, not the officer.
“I call PCFD Station One Court to order,” said Cap. Mock court proceedings were commonly used at Station One to resolve issues of all severity. “Arguments for letting the boot run this scene?”
“Low stakes, Your Honor,” said Emily. “I admit Exhibit A.” She held the pig up. “Look how adorable they are. They couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Objection,” said JFK. “Exhibit B is their evil little eyes. They are just waiting for the chance to bite one of us and give us trichinosis.”
“Overruled,” said Cap. “You get trichinosis from eating undercooked pork, not by being eaten by it. The court rules in favor of the boot.”
“Okay,” said Slade with a bit of pride. It was the first time a court proceeding had turned out in his favor. “Let’s get them into the bathroom before they get restless.”
“You heard him, JFK,” said Cap. “Give him a hand.”
“I’m not touching them,” said JFK with his hands up.
“Just stand right there,” said Slade, pointing to the ground at the entrance to the hallway. “If they come near you just don’t let them gore you.”
“What!” He realized Slade was giving him a hard time and muttered, “Boot, telling me what to do.”
“Cap,” said Slade, “prop the bathroom door and stand in the hallway to make sure they don’t run downstairs.” It felt strange being the man in charge again, and Slade had to remind himself that seven months ago, dozens of people followed his orders on a daily basis.
“You got it,” said Cap.
Slade looked at Emily, calmly holding the creature. He didn’t have a ton of experience with animals, and had never touched a pig outside of a petting zoo, but apparently they didn’t bite.
“Okay, pigs,” said Slade. He walked over to the end of the row of recliners farthest from the hallway. “Go that way.”
The pig on the last recliner was all black, had a face so fat its eyes were just slits, and had JFK painted on its side.
“You have to go,” Slade told it. “The court put me in charge.”
The pig had as much respect for legal proceedings as it did for the rule about no animals in the station.
“Is it too fat to jump down?” asked Slade.
“Too lazy,” said Emily. “Didn’t you see its name?”
“Funny,” said JFK. “C’mon, Booter, get em moving.”
From down the hallway, Cap called, “I wonder what would inspire someone to prank us like this.”
Emily called back, “I’m sure it had nothing to do with JFK running Carter’s uniform shirt up the flagpole last week.”
“Course not,” said Cap. “Or the go round before that when he froze Carter’s shirt in a bowl of ice.”
Slade was tempted to chime in, but he’d already established some credibility with the crew by handling the pigs, so he let Emily answer.
“What about when he attached Carter’s shirt to the tip of the bucket on the ladder like a banner the week before that?”
JFK put his hands up. “Okay, first of all, I saw them drive code 3 past Pineapple’s and it was hilarious. Second of all, if he would get his own gear off the rig, I wouldn’t have to do it for him.”
The pig wouldn’t budge, so Slade lifted it down, then nudged it toward the hallway. The rest of the pigs wanted help too, so Slade put each of them on the ground and they rambled coolly toward the head. Emily put her pig alongside the others.
“I’ve heard these things make good pets,” said Slade. The prank could have turned out much worse, considering they were live animals in living quarters.
“My neighbors had one growing up,” said Emily. “They’re super lovable too.”
Just as the first pig got his snout into the doorway of the bathroom, someone in a mask came flying out of the laundry closet yelling, “Soooooo-ey!” He blared an air horn as he ran down the hallway.
The pigs instantly scattered. A couple of them ran back, dodging through Slade’s legs as nimble as jackrabbits. Some of the pigs ran into bedrooms and some bolted past Cap toward the stairs. And it looked like one actually went into the head where it was supposed to. That seemed like about ten pigs where there had been only six at first.
The guy in the mask took off into the stairwell. His height was unmistakable. It was Carter, the engineer on B platoon.
“We know it’s you, Carter!” shouted JFK, still standing in the spot where Slade had placed him.
Slade bolted toward the bathroom door and pulled it shut, locking at least one of the suddenly feral beasts in a place where it would be an easy clean up. “Emily, grab the ones in the bedrooms. Cap, kitchen. I’ll head downstairs.”
“Yes, sir,” said Cap with a smile as Slade jogged past him.
On the stairs, Slade had to quick step to avoid a pile of droppings. At least it was dry. Mostly. He’d be the one responsible for the bulk of the clean up. From the sounds of pitter-pattering hooves coming from far below, the animals were already at the bottom of the stairs. They could be in the weight room, community room, or any one of the three offices. Everything was carpeted except for the weight room. The doors into the apparatus bay would be closed, which was actually good because that would greatly limit the area where they could be running free.
At least I’m not sitting at a desk, managing projects in the Army. It had paid better than firefighting and people called him sir—not sarcastically—rather than Booter. Still, chasing pigs around a lodge in the middle of the night beat that any day.
When Slade hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs he groaned. The door to the apparatus bay had been propped open. Carter had planned this one well. As quickly as he could, Slade jogged through the weight room, offices, and community room, only glancing quickly under tables and desks. No sign of the pigs in any of the rooms, so he closed doors as he went and continued on to the apparatus bay.
Lights on the concrete apron in front of the bay doors caught his eye. Someone had pulled up in a truck with a trailer. Under most circumstances it
was a huge no-no for anyone to park in front of the exit, but this morning, he was just glad to see help. He went up to the bay door and looked through the window. He couldn’t open the huge door, for fear that the pigs would run out into the night, but he could catch the driver’s attention and signal them to the entrance.
Slade just about fell over when he saw Poppy climb down from the truck.
… when the maelstrom aligns, and a ray of sun disintegrates the dark cloud …
… dark night, bright smile, the race is won …
When she saw him staring at her through the window, Poppy visibly sighed and shook her head. That tiniest curl of her pursed lips said that she wasn’t ready to gouge his eyes out.
It seemed like a while that they stared at each other, but there wasn’t a hint of awkwardness. Maybe it was the surreal circumstances. Maybe the confused hour of the morning. Whatever it was, he felt like they could stand there on opposite sides of the glass just staring at each other until sunrise. Longer. Until A platoon showed up Wednesday morning and he was forced to vacate the premises.
How did it keep happening? No coincidence could ever be so serendipitous. Only fate, or God, could push them together so forcefully. But that was impossible. God hated Slade and Slade was forever angry at God. Maybe it was a setup.
Slade didn’t know who broke the stillness first, but they were moving toward each other. He pointed at the smaller door at the far end of the bay and she mirrored him as they walked that direction.
“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as the door was open. He hadn’t known he would say it; it just came out. It was as good as anything to mend the bridge. That look they’d shared had done most of the mending. It had lasted long enough to imprint itself on his mind.
The words caught Poppy for the slightest second, but soon she said, “I’m just here about the pig infestation.”
“It’s one of the worst pig infestations I’ve ever seen,” answered Slade, pushing the door open all the way. “They got spooked and scattered. We’ve been chasing them all over the station. I think there are two of them in here.”
Poppy bent down, peering underneath all of the apparatus. “Oh, poor little piggy.” She stood and walked around the brush truck to the back corner of the bay.
Standing as docilely as it has been sitting on the recliner, the big fat JFK pig was laying down, cooling his belly on the concrete floor.
Poppy approached it slowly but confidently. “Feisty one. I can see why you were so terrified.” She put a hand on its head and petted it like a dog. “He’s not really an animal guy, piggy.”
The pig grunted, and may have smiled up at her.
“Two minutes ago, those things were like wild boars. One of our guys,” Slade fake choked up, “one of us wasn’t as lucky as me.”
“He’s a real killer,” said Poppy flatly. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
Just like that, the comfortable banter was back. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced with anyone.
Poppy picked up the big sucker. “Grab the door for me?”
Slade went in front of her and opened the door again, then the gate on the trailer. After JFK Pig was safely stowed, they went inside to find the other one.
The rest of the truck crew came into the bay.
“We got four of them rounded up,” said Cap.
JFK caught a look at Poppy and said, “Hey look, it’s Little Miss Graceful from the gym.”
“Her name’s Poppy,” said Slade. “This is Cap, Emily, and JFK.”
Poppy smiled at them. It was glorious. She asked Emily, “Do you guys stay up all night? Because there is no way you hopped out of bed looking that beautiful. I’m pretty sure it’s prohibited by the Geneva Convention.”
“Thanks,” said Emily, scrunching up her nose. She did that sometimes. Poppy was right, Emily always looked great. Always. It didn’t matter if they’d been fighting fire for hours, sweating into their face masks and helmets, Emily would come out of it looking like a girl in a swimsuit photo shoot while the guys looked like Sloth from Goonies. To most of the guys, she was like a sister, and as far as Slade knew, she’d never been involved with any of the guys on PCFD.
Emily went on. “I just look good in comparison to these Neanderthals.”
That smile again. Poppy said, “So, I have to point out the scrumptious irony of making a house call … to the fire station.”
“We owe you one,” said Cap.
“Yeah,” added Slade. “Come back Sunday and we’ll cook you dinner.”
A pig walked out from under the ladder truck, right up to Poppy, and nuzzled her leg. “I don’t want to sound like an amateur, but how exactly does a pig infestation happen?”
“A prank,” said Slade.
Her eyebrows went down and Slade wished he’d let JFK explain because she definitely did not approve.
“B platoon,” explained Emily. “Stands for Barn, which is apparently where they were raised.”
“We got the other four upstairs,” said Cap.
“If you want to bring them down, I’ll meet you at my trailer.” Poppy reached down for 30 Yr, but Slade picked it up first.
“I’ll help Poppy with this guy.” She obviously didn’t need help, and it made more sense for Slade to go up and grab one of the four, especially since he was the boot.
Cap and Emily immediately caught the look in his eye. JFK did too, but instead of just going along, he rolled his eyes and exhaled, then followed the others away.
Poppy got the door for Slade this time and as soon as they were outside, he said, “Can we do another hike this week? I really want …” What did he want? To explain himself? To be friends? It was true, but he couldn’t say that. It was as bad as what he said Thursday, even though it was all pure truth. He wanted to see her again.
“No,” said Poppy. “Literally the last thing I need in my life is another person telling me I’m not good enough. And when I say literally, I seriously would be better off with a broken leg, or an IRS audit, or, I dunno, cancer.”
She opened the trailer gate and Slade deposited 30 Yr Pig with JFK Pig.
“I think you’re great,” said Slade, not exactly sure where he was going with that.
Poppy didn’t give him a chance to get there. “Let me save you the trouble of a ‘but’ or coming up with more reasons for dumping me. Again. I drive a beat-up truck, not a sports car. I wear boots, not heels. I couldn’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve had a mani-pedi. I carry more than a few extra pounds. I’m awkward in social situations.”
Those words were hard to hear. Slade wanted to put a hand over her mouth or plug his ears to stop the lies.
“Besides,” Poppy looked over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone, “you’re gay.”
“I’m what?”
“Let’s see, in my friend Daria’s words, ‘He’s so deep in the closet, his mailing address is somewhere in Narnia.’”
Slade had to laugh. “I’m not gay. Dudes can write poetry and be straight.”
She looked a little stunned. And doubtful. “It doesn’t matter, Slade. Eventually you will realize that I’m not the clever Aphrodite hero that belongs with you. And that doesn’t even touch my past and what a screw up I was. Am. Whatever. Now will you leave me alone?”
“You don’t own a mirror, do you? Because you’ve obviously never seen yourself. Have you heard yourself talk? I don’t know who has been feeding you all of that, but it’s complete and total bull.”
“Yeah, you say that now. You’re still in break up mode apparently, still trying to make me feel better.”
The crew walked up, carrying the pigs. JFK was the first to get rid of his, then Emily put down two small ones.
Cap added his to the herd and said, “We really do owe you one. I’ll let you and Slade work it out.”
Huh? Cap knew his first name? That was the first time he’d used it in six months.
Poppy smiled graciously. “If the prankster wants his pigs back, send h
im down to the shelter. Tell him we’ll trade him for a hundred pounds of Dog Chow, forty pounds of kitty litter, and a chew toy for a ferret.”
Cap smiled . “I’ll pass that along.” He and the other two left them alone.
Immediately Poppy went toward the cab of her truck.
“Fate pushes us together like the waves and the shore,” said Slade. “Leave now and it’ll just happen again, and trust me, nobody wants fate to push them into a fireman’s path.”
“I don’t believe in fate.”
“What about God? Do you believe in Him?”
“Yeah.” Poppy turned to face him as she opened her truck door. “Wanna know what He taught me? I don’t need fickle put-down men in my life.” She climbed into the truck.
“What’s your last name?” asked Slade.
“Puddin’ Tame.” Poppy closed the door, started her truck, and left Slade standing cold in the early morning air. At least she didn’t peel out this time.
“Liar,” he said, not to any of the words she’d said, but to her denial that there was anything between them. “I was there.”
… through the glass separated by nothing …
… forced to pursue what I don’t want …
Don’t do it, dude. If she can hurt you this bad now, just think how hard she’ll wreck you when she leaves you down the road.
Slade didn’t have time to answer himself. The tones went off, and he was running toward the ladder for a chest pain dispatch.
Chest pain. Sometimes those calls turned out to be pneumonia or just acid reflux, but if it was truly pain in the heart, now that was something Slade knew a lot about.
9
Poppy pulled her bacon and egg sandwich out of the microwave and set the plate down on the counter next to a large glass of orange juice. The croissant sandwich wasn’t the healthiest choice, but the smell of bacon already had her mouth watering. She could make up for it at the gym later.
Two Hearts Rescue: Park City Firefighter Romance Page 7
