Page 211 of Knotting the Firefighters
Exactly where I belong.
A second device joins the chorus—different ringtone, same insistent demand for attention.
Two phones.
Two separate emergencies?
Or coordinated alert system?
Then a third—Bear's phone based on proximity and a particular jingle that's somehow both cheerful and aggressive.
Three phones.
Three simultaneous alerts.
That's not a coincidence.
That's something serious.
Consciousness arrives with uncomfortable speed as pattern recognition overrides the desire to remain in a comfortable nest. Emergency response training kicks in automatically—body moving before brain fully engages, instincts developed through years of service activating without conscious authorization.
Fire alarm.
That's a fire alarm notification.
All our devices are receiving simultaneous fire alerts.
We're moving collectively—disentangling with efficiency that suggests everyone else reached the same conclusion, pack coordination eliminating the need for verbal communication as we scramble for clothing and equipment.
"Where?" Calder's question articulates what we're all wondering. "Where's the fire?"
Good question.
Critical question.
Because we're at the ranch, miles from town, and response time is going to be?—
Aidric reaches for the radio first—emergency band communication that should connect us with Station Fahrenheit dispatch, allowing coordination even from a remote location.
"Station Fahrenheit, this is Chief Hawthorne requesting a status report. Received fire alert, need location and severity assessment."
Static.
Nothing but static greeted his transmission.
That's wrong.
Radio should work regardless of location.
Unless—
"Station Fahrenheit, respond. This is Chief Hawthorne requesting an immediate status update."
More static—empty airwaves that suggest either equipment malfunction or something significantly more concerning.
Communication failure.
During an active emergency.
