“Yes sir.” I jumped up immediately and ran to get my gear.
“Indian Hills. Of course, it’s all hands on deck when a rich person’s house in on fire.” Preston snorted in disgust as he walked up and started putting on his gear.
“Someone might need our help.” I grabbed my helmet and started towards the truck at a hurried pace.
I hadn’t said much to Preston since Eliza and I reconnected. I had long since forgiven my brother for what he did, but there was still a lingering anger that I hadn’t fully let go of. It was easy to push that out of my thoughts before Eliza returned, because there was nothing on the other side of that anger except disdain. I didn’t want to hate my brother, even if he was an asshole who destroyed my world with his lies. Having Eliza back was a reminder—one that I faced every day, even when I tried to avoid it. The reason she needed to feel pain was because he hurt her. She trusted him, and she trusted me. She gave us everything and when she finally believed there was more in the world that just pain, she got slapped in the face with his harsh dose of fabricated reality. Regardless of what he had done, we still had to work together when we were on the job, and I couldn’t let my own turmoil interfere with that.
“According to the chief, there’s nobody inside.” Preston climbed up in the cab beside me. “We just have to put out the fire. We’re bringing everything we have, of course.”
“That’s a waste of resources—resources we don’t have.” I grunted under my breath and waited for the rest of the team to climb on the truck before I cranked it up.
“Yeah, but like I said—it’s a rich person’s house.” Preston looked out the window as I put the truck in drive.
We drove to Indian Hills and I could see the smoke in the distance, bellowing up into the sky. Indian Hills wasn’t just upscale, it looked like a piece of Hollywood that had been carved out of California and dropped into rural Alabama. I had some theories about where some of that money came from, but like everyone else, they were just conspiracies in my head. The mayor lived in Indian Hills, and so did most of the people who financed his last campaign. When we got to the location of the fire, I realized the house belonged to the Walford family, who owned the sawmill which kept Andalusia thriving once upon a time. It had been closed for years, yet they still seemed to be doing okay. We started doing what we could to contain the fire, keep it from spreading, and just when we began to make progress, a long black Cadillac pulled up beside our truck. I knew it belonged to Mayor Stevenson, even before he opened the door.
“What the fuck is going on here? Why isn’t this fire out!?” Mayor Stevenson walked over and looked around at us.
“We’re doing what we can.” Preston turned towards Mayor Stevenson. “We’ve got it contained.”
“There’s another hydrant right over there!” Mayor Stevenson’s face turned red as he spoke “Get a hose hooked up! Now!”
“We don’t have another hose.” I walked over and took off my helmet.
“Then call for another fire department! What the fuck do I pay you people for? Do I have to do everything myself?” Mayor Stevenson pulled out his phone.
“Good luck.” I shook my head angrily. “They usually call us when they need help.”
Mayor Stevenson walked away from us and yelled into his phone for several minutes while Preston and I went back to work on the fire. The house was going to be a total loss, just like the farmhouse we tried to save, and just like the Bed & Breakfast downtown. Money couldn’t fix a problem when you were looking back at it in the rear-view mirror, and that’s all Mayor Stevenson could really do. He finally came to terms with that, I guess, because he just leaned against his car and stared once he was done yelling at people who had no help to offer. I knew there was nobody out there close enough to help, because that was what we dealt with every time there was an emergency in Andalusia. After another hour, the fire was finally starting to smolder instead of blaze, and we were at the end of what we could really do on our own.
“You guys did a piss-poor job.” Mayor Stevenson grunted when we walked back towards the truck.
“What do you expect?” I said it under my breath, but louder than I probably should have.
“I’m sorry, what did you say to me?” Mayor Stevenson pushed off his car and started walking towards me.
Fuck it, I’m done with this shit.
“I said—what did you expect?” I put my hands on my hips and turned towards him. “Chief Traywick has been telling you for years that our equipment is outdated! If you want us to do more than contain a fire and wait for it burn out, then why don’t you try allocating some budget money to us, instead your in-ground pool!?”
“You better watch your tone with me, Hudson” Mayor Stevenson’s lip turned to a snarl.
“Why? Are you going to fire me?” I glared at him.
“I should. I should have fired you for that stunt you pulled at the Bed & Breakfast. Do you know how much damage you caused?” Mayor Stevenson shook his head back and forth.
“Hudson saved my life.” Preston took a step forward. “And if we had better equipment something like that wouldn?
?t have been necessary.”
“I should fire both of you.” Mayor Stevenson narrowed his eyes angrily and turned his attention directly on me. “If your Dad didn’t give so many years to the fire department, I would do it without a second thought! I’d make sure you never found another job too—not in my fucking town.”
“I’ll save you the trouble.” I pulled off my helmet and threw it at his feet. “I quit.”
“Hold on.” Preston bent over and picked up my helmet. “Hudson, think this over for a second. You’re just upset.”
“I’ve been upset for a long time, and it’s past time that I did more than just watch from the sidelines with no way to fix it.” I took my helmet from Preston and threw it at Mayor Stevenson’s feet again, hard enough for it to leave a mark in the dirt.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Mayor Stevenson’s jaw tightened, and he tilted his head.