“You want one?” I whisper to Claire.
“I might explode, but I’m afraid if I say no I won’t get to try it.”
“I’ll share a piece with you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” I carve out a slice, grab two forks, and hand one to Claire. We both dig in as the conversation swirls around us. Everyone is laughing and carrying on, and Claire has just fed me the last bite when my phone vibrates and the fire tones go off.
We used to have to carry big clunky pagers when we were on call, but thanks to modern technology, there’s an app for that.
I reach for my hip, pulling my cell off the clip, and stand up. My crew rotates with the others in case we’re needed for a mutual aid call, and this is one of those times. Lifting the phone to my ear, I step away from the table to listen.
The three dogs have perked up at the loud tones and sit patiently, like the rest of my family.
We don’t get second- and third-alarm fire calls very often, but every once in a while, they happen. My family is used to it, but Claire stands up and closes the distance between us. She stands at my side and listens as the dispatcher gives me the information I’m looking for.
“Attention Heaven Fire Department, Heaven EMS, second-alarm fully involved structure fire at the corner of Route Forty and Berkshire Road in Dayton. There’s a report of occupants inside. Dayton Fire Department is on scene and is requesting backup.”
My phone vibrates again with an incoming call. I spin and walk quickly toward my truck with Claire hot on my heels. I answer on the next ring.
“What do you need, Chief?”
“Truck 1049, 1050, and 1051 are responding. Suit up and meet us there.”
“On my way.”
I end the call and unlock my truck.
“What’s happening?” Claire asks. “Where are you going?”
“There’s a fire in Dayton I have to respond to.” I grab my bunker gear from the back of my truck. I kick off my shoes and toss them in the cab. Shoving my feet in my rubber boots, I pull my suit up, wrapping the straps over my shoulders and then shrug on my coat.
“But you’re off today.”
“I am, but I’m on call, and I’ve got to go.”
Claire shakes her head. “What does that even mean? I didn’t know you took call.”
I cradle her face in my hands. “Claire, I will explain all of this to you, but I can’t right now because I have to go. People are counting on me; my department is counting on me.”
Her eyes cloud over, but she takes a step back. “Go.”
I toss my helmet into the front seat, but instead of leaving, I reach for her. “I’ll see you later tonight, okay? I love you, Claire.”
I kiss her softly, climb into the driver’s seat, and pull out of my parents’ driveway onto the road. Dayton is a neighboring town about fifteen minutes from where I am. As I drive, I listen to dispatch giving updates, and my mind wanders back to Claire. My gut twists when I recall the uncertainty in her eyes as I left.
With that one look, I knew I’d failed her. This—firefighting, my occupation—has been Claire’s biggest insecurity, and I should’ve prepared her for something like this.
It took a lot of courage for her to push her fears aside and give me—us—a chance, and the last thing I need is for her to get spooked and withdraw. I don’t care how late it is, when I get home tonight, I’m going to sit down with her, and we’re going to have a serious talk. I’m not going to hold anything back. I’m going to explain what it is that I do, what part I play when I arrive on scene, and what she can expect from different calls. I want her to have every piece of information she needs to move forward with me with a clear mind.
Which is what I need to have as I pull up on scene. I can see smoke billowing into the air from several blocks away. The closer I get, the thicker it gets, and I pull over on a side street, not wanting to get too close. I flip on my hazards, grab my helmet, and get out of my truck. I walk straight toward the fiery mess, meeting several of my crew members along the way. Fire trucks are lined up along the road, some hooked up to fire hydrants, others not. People are screaming and crying, and there are officers and emergency personnel doing their best to keep the growing crowd back while attending to the injured.
Chief waves us over and fills us in. “There were fifty to one hundred people inside when the fire broke out. Twenty-seven have been accounted for.”
“Fifty to one hundred?” Mikey asks. “Which is it? That’s big gap.”
“No one really knows. The warehouse is abandoned, and young kids from around the area come here for parties. The building is divided into five different sections, and while the majority of occupants were in two of the sections, it’s unclear how many occupied the other areas. Mikey, Trevor, Casey, get your packs on. You’re going in.”