![]() Before finally, in dead silence, he spoke. Pat simply glared forward, tapping his foot on the floor. "Y'all did good." the captain nodded, before stomping his smoke out. The six men took long drags on the bumper of the fire engine, looking around at one another. Things like stress debriefings hadn't been invented yet. No one really spoke after calls like this, a simple mutual respect and a shared smoke to calm the nerves. The crews of Engine 57, Chief 7, and Medic 14 had become the latest sacrifices to a long-winded tradition of first responders after 'rough' calls The mandatory cigarette break outside the hospital. ![]() "Fuck, I thought fire station babies stopped being a thing in the seventies." The captain, a african american man in his fifties, simply watching. The captain peered back out the back door as the rest of C shift came in, each taking their turn with the small child. "What in the fuck are you two doin'-." He stopped dead in his track once he saw the small child, "Jesus.Again." The captain simply stated, shoving his way past the two to grab a radio from inside the fire station and call an ambulance. "Monroe, Collins." He directed to the two men, not yet seeing what they were holding. "Jesus fuck- I'll- I'll uh-." Jack sighed, standing up to head inside right as another car pulled in, a familiar face in a white shirt with Captain's bugles making his way down. Pat simply glared at his partner, sighing before starting CPR on the seemingly lifeless baby. ![]() "It's probably a crack baby from one of the corner girls. "Christ, must've been out here all night." He sighed, checking to see if the baby was even breathing. It's a baby." Pat looked up at his partner, unwrapping the baby more. "Jesus fuck, what is that?" as Pat kneeled down, opening up a bundle of towels. Jack reached to pull the door open, when Pat grabbed his wrist. "Pat, you hear that?" - The two looked at each other "That high pitched whine? Fuck is that, tower's leaking air again?" The two shrugged, moving closer to the door. A well practiced, perfect routine.īut today was about to be drastically different as the two walked up to the back entrance of the fire station the first two to arrive for the shift, as always. The truck is cleaned and washed, equipment checked, and everyone's asses are right back at the dining room table or the lounge chairs out front the station by 0837 exactly. Years and years of showing up 15 minutes early for their 7am shift, bullshitting with the other 3 members of their engine crew over morning coffee. ![]() Both men had went through the academy together in '87, and had been on Engine 57 since. A routine, oft repeated greeting the men had exchanged every 72 hours on the dot for the past few years, at least. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |