Page 52 of Burn

Owen and I manage to stabilize the vehicle and disconnect the battery, and with the help of Evan, extricate the man from the vehicle and leave it up to the EMTs to save his life.

And he’ll probably survive, but he’s going to have some pretty large medical bills after this.

On the way back to the station, Owen grabs his stomach. “I’m hungry. Do you think this will fit through the drive-through?”

“Why not?” Evan smiles, hungry as well.

The truck doesn’t fit in the drive-through. We try, and end up having to explain to the captain why we brought a Taco Bell’s drive-through menu with us back to the station.

“About this sign. You gotta return that shit to Taco Bell. I don’t know . . .” Our captain is laying into us when another call comes through. It’s turning out to be a busy night with little downtime, and I’m thankful.

“Engine 25, Ladder 10, Battalion 2, Engine 10, Ladder 1, Engine 5 . . .” When they keep listing off the apparatuses to arrive, we know this one’s going to be a big call.

Just as I’m getting on the truck, Corbin, a firefighter on Engine 25 nails me in the head with his SCBA. He’s also Evan’s best friend. Might explain some of our hostility. Should I mention here he was sleeping with Gemma too?

Eh, not important. Or is it?

“Oh, sorry, man,” Corbin says, running past me toward the engine. “Didn’t see you there, kid.”

I rub the side of my head. “You son of a bitch.”

He saw me all right.

I reach for the handle on the side of the truck, pulling myself inside and sit next to Owen. “Someday I’m going to toss that guy into a burning building without his fucking hose.”

Corbin and I had no real beef with each other, just that we didn’t like one another. Couldn’t explain it. Or maybe it goes back to the fact that he was fuckin’ my girlfriend?

Honestly, I think he’s a pussy who hides behind a nozzle, and he thinks I’m a condescending asshole. His words, not mine. And you know, they’re probably true, but whatever.

“Forget about him.” Owen grins, knowing what I need to hear. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Once we’re pulling out of the station, Owen laughs. “I can’t wait until Corbin gets in his car tomorrow.”

“Why?”

He nudges Finn beside him. “Me and probie glued his doors shut.”

“Now I know why you’re my best friend.” I laugh, feeling better. “I was having some doubts today.”

Indirect Attack

Method of firefighting in which water is pumped onto materials above or near the fire so the splash rains onto the fire, often used where a structure is unsafe to enter.

Did you know there are thirty-five fire stations in King County alone?

I googled it and can’t for the life of me find a directory of firefighters to search him. I even googled “Caleb Ryan,” assuming that’s his last name, but I can’t find anything on that name other than a phone number listed, and I’m too afraid to call it. It’s also a 360 area code for the Caleb Ryan I did find, and I know that’s not a Seattle area code. At the risk of looking like a fool, I don’t try calling.

Scarlet did though, and it turns out it’s a seventeen-year-old kid from Rochester who offered to take her for a ride. She talked to him for an hour, Snap chatted with him and then told him to call her when he turned eighteen in two weeks.

I did drive past his apartment last night though. And by drive by I mean sat outside of it for an hour and forced Scarlet to eat at Lil Woodie’s while she made fun of me for being obsessed with him.

I don’t argue with her because it’s true, and I feel somewhat ridiculous about it. I’m twenty-six and the manager of the hotel. I shouldn’t be stalking people.

I think of all kinds of situations that could happen at the hotel on New Year’s Eve that might warrant a 911 call in hopes he’s working and might possibly be in the area. Our hotel is about eight blocks from his apartment, and don’t most firefighters live in the general vicinity they work?

One could hope, right?

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