The Mean Machines

(Authors note:Take our characters from the show and imagine them in present day.No aging or anything like that. Kind of like an alternate universe thing)

John Gage stepped out onto the apron of the firehouse, surveying the bustling street in front of him. It was a warm and humid July Morning and it was supposed to get hotter. He looked over the two Seagrave apparatus parked in the bays. Silver letters painted across the top of each cab spelled out the words MEAN MACHINES. The Ladder had two jacks on either side of the bumper with a silver 57 in the center.A Tower Ladder, a type of fire truck nearly extinct these days in LA. An Iron Man action figure was wire tied to the grille of the engine, silver numbers also adorned its bumper and doors. The Engine and Ladder each had the company logo painted on the side of the cab behind the Officers door. A Maltese Cross in red. With the visage of The Terminators' metallic skull and glowing red eyes, wearing a fire helmet, laid over the middle of the cross. Each had the unit number on the head of the cross in black. Engine 85/Ladder 57. The Letters FD NY were stenciled on either side of the Cross. At the bottom read out Bronx, NY. Gage turned and looked out again on the street...looking over the tenements and stores, along with the trash strewn and rubble filled vacant lots. He straightened out his uniform and hair, pondering the thought of being in New York City on this exchange program Roy De Soto had talked him into some months before. His eyes then met the gaze of a young Hispanic girl, wearing clingy blue jeans and a pink low cut tank top. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders, covering her rather overflowing top. Her two friends looked over John and giggled, whispering, "Ay,Papi" John grinned softly as they sauntered away, eyes still locked on the three beauties. He turned to see his partner step up behind him, cup of coffee in hand, "Hey Johnny, what do you think of the program so far??" Roy DeSoto asked. Gage replied, "I think I am gonna......" Johnny never finished his sentence. Water crashed down over him, drenching him completely. The young ladies broke into laughter, continuing in their private merriment as they strolled away. Gage blubbered and sputtered some, Roy turned red trying to stifle his giggling. Gage looked up to see two men holding an empty bucket, smiles plastered on their faces. One yelled down, "Welcome to the South Bronx, Pretty Boy!!!!!!!!!!"

A shuffle of footsteps filled the floor behind the two paramedics. Eight firemen and two officers stood there applauding and laughing out loud. Gage stepped into the bay from the street as one of his pranksters ambled down the stairs, towel in hand. "I'm sorry, bro," the fireman chuckled, "but your partner here says you're a bit of a ladies man, had to cool you off some." He extended his hand to Gage,"I'm Pete Clayton and welcome to Engine 85 and Tower Ladder 57" His partner in crime, and older fireman well into his 40's came off the stairs and also introduced himself, "Lou Jacobs, 85 Engine, how ya doin pal??" Gage took his hand "John Gage, it's a pleasure." Behind them a stern voice boomed "Okay boys enough of the water sports," Lieutenant Chuck Cohen stood before them. "Gage go dry yourself off" A mountain of a man, Cohens brown eyes pierced the air and appeared to burn into Claytons' chest. "Awww C-Bear," Clayton muttered his superiors nickname, "Enough Petey, these guys are our guests and they will be treated as such." "OK Loo, sorry" Cohens eyes softened and he turned to Roy, gesturing to the girls walking by, "Something in the friggin water around here" "You're telling me," Roy replied. "Never grew em like that when I was growing up."

Roll Call ended just after 9 a.m. Lieutenant Cohen introduced Roy and Johnny to the memebers of 85 and 57, explaining the exchange program that they were involved in. "Two men from this house or somewhere else in the Battalion will be going to LA to ride with LA County and LA City for a few days. It's like a big note comparing project, comparing tactics and protocols. John and Roy will be riding with us till tomorrow morning and we've made arrangements with Headquarters to have everyone stay over for the full 24 hours, instead of the reliefs at 1800, also anyone scheduled to work tomorrow is off and tonights night tour will be doing our 9 by tomorrow. Unfortunately, this is all straight time. If anyone doesn't want to work tonight speak now and I will have relief in for you at 1800." Not a hand raised in the group. Cohen looked at his two guests, water still dripping from Johnny Gages' now unkempt and damp hair. "Are you guys going anywhere else??" "We're going to Harlem Thursday to ride with some Paramedics out of the Camelot station? I think it's called??" Gage said. "Oh, down there??" Cohen replied. "Bunch of wackos down there, but not much different around here." Lieutenant Steuben of Engine 85 directed Lou Jacobs to give Roy the tour of the firehouse while Clayton was tasked with the housewatch with John Gage as his observer. The other men went about the early morning chores of polishing up the brass and assorted cleaning thru the firehouse. It was a newer building, constructed in the late 60's when the Bronx was known as one of the busiest parts of the world when it came to the business of firefighting. Legends in the fire service were born on these streets. And here this house stood, a tan bricked castle on a street of hovels, skeletons of a once great community.

Clayton sat at one chair in the housewatch booth, a room a little smaller than Captain Stanleys' office back at 51. Positioned near the front of the firehouse with a window looking out over the street. It held a small table, laying on the table was a large book, the firehouse journal, all runs and members entering and departing were logged into this book. Above them was a small television set, tuned to the Local Sports report.Along with the table, lay a bench like cot that Gage was now occupying. A PC with a blank screen and a printer above it stood near the rear wall. A chalk board had a list of each member of the companies riding that day and their assigned positions. Clayton was the Roof Man of Ladder 57, responsible for ventilation on the upper floors of a building and any other tasks the officer held for him. Below the chalkboard was a red telephone, with a speaker where the buttons should be. Attached to it was a CB microphone that was used as the firehouse intercom. Next to the chalkboard was an old bell mechanism, a throwback to the old days when fire trucks were sent to fires in a telegraphed series of bells rung by the dispatcher. Near the door of the watch booth was a long and rather old baseball bat, ringed in electrical tape. One wall had a window that looked out at the apparatus, turnout jackets were hung on the handles of each door. Black with yellow and white retroreflective trim, the letters FDNY emblazoned in yellow across the back, the aroma of long beaten fires permeated the air. Near the rear door of Ladder 57s' cab sat Gages turnouts, his yellow helmet bore his shield reading FIREFIGHTER with the LA County Fire Department abbreviation below it. A green label on the side of his helmet revealed the white number 51. Johns' gear was a stark contrast to that of Claytons', which laid next to his. A Black helmet, an old bicycle tire tube, stretched along it brim, held a few little knick knacks, nails and a wooden triangle for chocking open doors. A red, white and blue bow tie adorned the left side of his helmet. The tie had been singed some, showing it hadn't been attached for long.Numerous shamrock stickers were attached to the helmet. His helmet shield was singed and stained from heat and soot collected over the years. The red color of his shield, which signified Clayton as a ladder company fireman was nearly indistinguishable, nor was the white 57. The numbers were a nearly brown color and the red had been covered with a black tinge. Below that, his badge number 19225 had been turned to a nearly inky shade, the outlines of each number barely showing. Two flipdown plastic eyeshields below the front of the helmet were nearly translucent from heat damage. Clayton was involved in a quiet telephone conversation while Gage watched the sports report, occasionally eyeing the baseball bat. "Ok, thanks Brendan" Clayton whispered and hung up the phone. He pointed out the PC to the rear of the booth. "That's the teleprinter, it prints up our fire tickets and such, we use the screen to acknowledge, kind of a touch screen thing, it's always screwing up on us and hasn't worked in a few days so we get rolled over a voice alarm, that's the red phone on your right there." Gage looked at the phone next to his head. Looking it over when a piercing tone blared from it and the speakers thruout the firehouse. Gage jumped from the cot holding his ear, a slightly pained and annoyed look on his face. A gruff voice called through the speaker, "Testing with the quarters of Engine 8-5 and Ladder 5-7, How do ya copy?" Clayton grabbed the telphone handset and keyed the mike, chuckling "10-4 Loud n Clear, Bronx, Thanks Brendan." The Dispatcher replied "10-4 Mean Machines, and welcome to the LA County Firemen riding with you from the Bronx Dispatchers, Time now is 0-9-1-3, Dispatcher 2-6-3"

Gage looked at Clayton with surpise at another little practical joke, wondering if this guy had a relative named Kelly in Los Angeles. Clayton smiled, "My cousin is a dispatcher up there and I know a bunch of them, besides I had to make sure it was working." Gage nodded with a look of disbelief, not buying the line he was being fed. Gage gestured to the baseball bat inside the housewatch door, "Is that thing necessary??" Clayton screwed a Marlboro into his lips and lit it. He walked John to the apron and stepped a few feet into the street. Gage follwed him. Clayton pointed to a few pockmarks in the building and a dent or two on the number 57 above the Apparatus door,"Ya see all that? That's why it's necessary" he said. John stepped back in the firehouse and ran between the two rigs looking for Roy, the need to strangle his partner for talking him into this exchange program growing with each step. Clayton followed, then stepped back to the housewatch.

He found Roy sitting on the backstep of the engine going thru the engines First Responder Equipment with Lou Jacobs. New York City Firefighters act as First Responders and work with patients until an ambulance arrives and they hand off the patient. Other times, although uncommon, the ambulance arrives before them and they are returned. They were going over the features of the Defibrillator. Nothing amazing, but the next shock to Gages system were the two flags the men were sitting between. On the left side of the Seagraves' back step was the Stars and Stripes, and the right side was the Jolly Roger. Gage stood there, mouth agape. "What did I just walk into??" he wondered. No way could they fly flags on the fire trucks in LA and no way would Hank Stanley, OR Mike Stoker for that matter allow the Skull and Crossbones fly from his beloved Engine.

"Roy," John stammerd a little, "there's bulletholes in the side of the building, BULLETHOLES!!!!! What were you thinking when you signed me up for this???" Lou Jacobs grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. "I see you also like our decorations", gesturing to the pirate flag."Relax John, those holes are from a long time ago. Maybe 10 or 12 years." Jacobs' voice had a paternal tone to it. He had been in 85 about 18 years and was one of the senior men in the firehouse."It was like the friggin wild west out there back in the late 80's, shootouts, drive bys all that stuff. I can't think of how many times we went out for a car fire and found a body in the trunk." Lou ran a hand thru his silghtly greying hair."It's quieted down some over the past 5 years or so but we still hear gunshots every now and then.We were doing 9, 10 runs a night almost all fires, now it's a lot of medical runs but we still catch some good work. We do about 4,000 runs a year." Lous' speech was interrupted by that piercing tone that rattled Gage earlier.

"Attention Engine 8-5, Tower Ladder 5-7 Respond Telephone Alarm Box 2-3-7-2 The number 6 train Hunts Point Avenue and Southern Boulevard for a person under a train southbound track. That's Box 2-3-7-2 Number 6 train Hunts Point Avenue and Southern Boulevard for a person under the train southbound track, TURN OUT, MEAN MACHINES!!" The Dispatchers' voice rang through. Clayton acknowledged the response while writing down the alarm location and box number on a piece of paper. Each street intersection had a Fire Alarm Box number assigned to it and each Box number listed the proper assignments of Engines and Ladders with regard to distance from that intersection. Roy and Jacobs shoved the equipment back into the cabinet of the engine and ran for the rig. Gage followed and nimbly slipped into his turnouts, taking a position inside the rear of Ladder 57s' cab. The two rigs lumbered slowly onto the apron, lights and strobes flashing the warning to oncoming traffic that they were pulling out. Peter handed Steuben and Cohen the tickets he had written up and grabbed his gear. He waited as the tower ladders' bucket cleared the door, and pressed the button to lower the two red doors. He stepped up into the cab, jostling John slightly. Cohen looked to see his men were secure and stepped on the pedal. The Federal Q siren groaned to life as they pulled out onto 161st street, making the left turn. Engine 85 trailed close behind them with DeSoto riding shotgun with Lieutenant Steuben, its electronic siren wailing in spurts, the air horn blasting thru the morning.

Gage looked out the window of the truck, waving to the children playing on the sidewalk as they passed. He overheard the crackle of the radio traffic, relaying information to Battalion 29, responding from another firehouse. Cohen yelled out, "Looks like Transit is confirming this, Petey, you and John are gonna go under and make the grab." Clayton groaned, "This is gonna suck donkey balls" John said, "Why?" "Buddy, these subway jobs are messy and I really don't feel like starting a beautiful Monday morning knee deep in someones guts, you'll see."

The rigs pulled up with the Battalion chief almost simultaneously. The crew of 57 grabbed the airbags and chocking equipment.The enginemen hustled with the collars and board along with a stokes basket off the ladder. Jacobs handed the CFR equipment to a fresh faced probie. John and Roy rushed to the stairwell that would bring them into the subway. They passed the token booth and hopped the turnstiles. As they ambled down the stairs the heat struck them. Worse than outside, the smell of urine and the heat nearly overpowered them. The pair double stepped it to the platform. The Subway train was about halfway thru the station. Its driver, known as the motorman sat on the concrete of the platform shaking his head. Clayton stood at the edge of the platform looking over the edge to the tracks about 4 feet below. Cohen stood beside him. "You ready Pete?? John??" "Yeah boss" Clayton said grimacing slightly at the smell wafting up from the tracks. "OK we'll wait till the power is off and then you go." Lt. Cohen said.

Two police officers from the NYPD Emergency Services Unit came down the stairs, tools in hand. Lt. Steuben stopped them. "Where you think you're going??" He asked. One of the cops spoke up, "We're here for that guy under" Steuben smiled. "Uhhhh no, you're not. My guys are making the grab and they aren't going anywhere without the power being off and neither are you." The first officers' eyes darkened. "Excuse me?? Now you're gonna get out of my way and let me and my partner do our jobs or you will be locked up" Steuben got close to the officer, the battle of the badges had begun, "First off OFFICER, he hissed, "The way I see it, " pointing to the word Lieutenant on his helmet, "I outrank you as does that guy," jerking his thumb back to the fire chief."And if memory serves me right, protocols state it's our scene till we get off the tracks, I'm sure Chief O'Hanlon over there would agree as would my colleagues coming down the stairs behind you." The Captain of the Rescue company led his six men down into the station, Rescue men were the elite of the fire department, or so they thought, according to the men in the engine and ladder companies. The ESU Cops Bill Steuben was now admonishing were of the same caliber as Rescue. "Now kindly step back and wait till we're done." Chief O'Hanlon had walked over to check on Steuben when the officers sheepishly complied and stepped away. One of them noticed De Sotos' attire and passed a comment about "LA having to bail out you FDNY candyasses" O'Hanlon growled in his soft Irish brogue, "You're outta line Lad, now step back and zip it!" Roy turned to Cohen,"That sort of thing happen a lot, Chuck?" "All the time," he replied. "Those ESU cops don't like it when we show up before them and spank their pee pees. Check up on the motorman will ya??" Roy nodded and went over to the man. He still sat on the platform sobbing. "He just jumped, I couldn't stop in time." The Trains' conductor patted his shoulder, trying to comfort the now distraught man. Roy kneeled down next to Tim Healy, the rookie fireman of Engine 85 had just finished taking the mans BP. "it's 130 over 80, he's diaphoretic and his pulse is about 135. No outward signs of injury but he's shaken up pretty good." "OK" Roy said.."just give him some O2 and try to keep him comfortable" Roy really couldn't do much else than watch, he had no permission to and couldn't act as a paramedic today, nor could Gage.

Chief O'Hanlon spoke into his handie-talkie,"10-4" Looking to Cohen he yelled over,"Hey Chuckie, dispatcher says power is off, you can go" Cohen nodded and looked at Clayton and Gage,"OK boys, down you go" The two eased off the platform and down onto the tracks a few feet ahead of the trains' lead car. The larger third rail loomed ominously to their right. The third rail supplied electricity to the train, a boot like appendage from the train skimmed along it. 600 volts coursed through the rail. "Enough juice in that thing to fry a mule" Clayton murmured, "Watch it John, even thought they say power is off you don't want to get to close to it." They crouched down and began their crawl underneath the train. Water trickled in the trough of the tracks. There was about a 2 foot clearance between them and the top of the train. The stench was unbearable, Gage started to gag a little. "Smells like hot garbage down here" Clayton joked. He keyed the mike of his handi talkie. "5-7 Roof to 5-7" "5-7" Cohen replied. "Loo, I see one of the guys arms about 20 feet ahead of me but not much else." "10-4 Petey" They crawled further as Clayton shone his flashlight along. One of the men from the ladder comapny yelled from above,"Almost to him Pete", as they spotted for him. Clayton blinked his flashlight in acknowledgement. The smell of blood and feces permeated the already pungent air. Sweat stung their eyes. As they got closer, the odor grew stronger and they gazed upon a really nasty sight. "Ahhhh, shit, John are you seeing this??" "Uh oh" Gage replied. The mans' body was seriously mangled. He appeared to have been cut at the waist by the wheels of the train, one arm was jammed between the steel composite wheels of the train bent in a rather nasty angle, his torso was otherwise intact except for the fact his head was missing. John looked over, noticing a smell of burning flesh, he stared into the lifeless eyes of a man in his 30's skin and hair sizzling against the third rail. "Awwwww man," he groaned. Clayton looked back to see Johnny turning as green as the shield on his helmet. "Dammit" he whispered, "power is still on, Johnny, back out slowly" He keyed his mike again."5-7 roof to 5-7 power is still on we're backing out now, patient is a 10-37Code 1(deceased) " "10-4 Petey" came Cohens tense reply.

The two emerged from underneath the train and gingerly climbed up to the platform. Gage turned to see Chief O'Hanlon going off on the Transit Authority men, cursing up a blue streak and speaking of mudholes being implanted in posteriors unknown. "Gotta love the old guy" Clayton chuckled. The men collected their gear and started off the platform, following the Rescue firefighters up the stairs. Steuben looked over at the two still fuming cops, "He's all yours boys, they're gonna have to back the train out to get all of him out but not enough to fill a bucket." He tipped his helmet and whispered, "Have a nice day and enjoy"

"Jeeze Roy, I have never seen anything," he sniffed his turnouts to see if the stench had followed him to the street, "Or smelled anything like that" De Soto regarded his partner with that all knowing grin of his,"Well Junior for your information while you were on vacation Tommy Dwyer and I had a man over on Sepulveda get hit by a trolley, not much better I'm guessing." Gage groaned again, "Well thank God for vacations, which reminds me, why did I agree to come with you here??" De Soto smiled again, "Well Johnny if you must know if you didn't come, you would be working with Brice" He patted his partner on the shoulder and walked over to the engine. "Well, thank you for small favors Roy, I'll never be able to repay you" Gage gagged again at the thought of the smell of the subway.

Cohen took the handset of the radio in hand, "Ladder 5-7 to the Bronx, K" "K" was an old tradition in the department, signifying the end of a transmission. It went back to the days of the telegraph system, when the line crews maintaining the fire alarm boxes used it. It carried over to the radio and had stayed a staple of department lingo to this day. "Ladder 5-7" came the reply. "We're up from 2-3-7-2 if ya got anything else for us.K" The dispatcher spoke back,"Nothing for you now, fifty-seven stay in service." Cohen spoke"10-4, Bronx we're 10-8 and available." "10-4 Time now is 1-0-2-7 Dispatcher 4-6-4". the radio went silent. The rig turned onto Bruckner Boulevard and meandered down the street, the dull roar of traffic from the elevated highway rumbled above. As they rode, the radio blared out two long tones, another dispatcher spoke. "Bronx announcing in the Borough of Manhattan, a Second Alarm has been transmitted for Box 1-4-7-7, West 1-2-5 street and Lenox Avenue for a fire in a taxpayer. Time 1-0-2-8 Disptacher 4-1-2 in the Bronx" The firemens ears perked up at the announcement. Cohen directed his chauffer,"Larry head over to one thirty-eighth street, let's see if we can see anything." The rig made a right turn onto the two way thoroughfare. A small column of thick black smoke was visible in the distance. "We gonna go, Boss??" one man asked, speaking for probably all the men in the rig.Cohen loved fighting fires but decided to wait his turn."Nope, we don't go there till at least the fourth or fifith alarm and besides you wanna sit your butt in the bucket peeing on a store?? You know, as do ALL of you that's exactly what will happen." "Ya got a point there Loo," Clayton piped back, "besides we gotta impress Gage here some good first due work. Show em what we can do." Gage smiled sarcastically, he was really starting to not like this guy. As they neared an intersection a small car passed them quickly and blew thru the red light, making a right turn. Tires squealed as the souped up Honda jetted up Brook Avenue. Cohen directed his chauffer to make the turn as well. "We got some hydrants we have to check up here." They stopped a few blocks up and began their assigned hydrant inspections. Clayton grabbed his wrench and unscrewed the cap, he brought it to the valve stem of the hydrant using the magnetic wrench head of the tool. Its' teeth slammed home as it stuck to the valve, he turned it and a small trickle of rust colored water flowed, followed by a small torrent of water. "This one's good" he said. He shut it down and returned the cap, securing it tightly. He said to John, "Five bucks says that cap will be gone by 2 o'clock. The kids will have pulled it off and the parents will have figured out to get this thing running. They'll be at the Brook Avenue Beach Club." Cohen nodded in agreement. Cohens' ears perked up at the announcment of an auto accident at Brook Avenue and East one forty-sixth street, about 6 blocks from them. "Saddle up boys, car wreck up the avenue" he picked up the handset,"Ladder 5-7 to the Bronx, we're at 1-4-0 and Brook you want us to take that in??" "10-4 Ladder 5-7, Box is 2-2-0-9 Brook and 1-4-6 for an auto accident." The dispatcher replied. "10-4 Ladder 5-7 responding" Cohen barked. He put the handset down as Ladder 65 was returned to quarters.

As they pulled up to the scene, they came upon a small box truck with what appeared to be a Honda tightly wedged beneath the rear of the truck. Cantaloupes and other fruit littlered the street before them. The driver of the truck was yelling in rapid fire Spanish to two police officers and just about anyone else would listen. The driver of the car was strangely silent.It was the same car that had blown past Ladder 57 not 5 minutes earlier. Anti Freeze and other fluids bled from the car. A mango rolled past Gage as he sized up the wreck. One of the men from 57 pried at the door with his halligan bar. "No good gotta pop it." he said. The Lieutenant spoke into his radio "5-7 to the Bronx, we have a confirmed pin at 2-2-0-9 and are putting the Hurst tool to work,K" He didn't wait for the acknowledgement. Clayton came over with the spreaders while another man brought the cutters. Cohen helped bring over the hydraulic pump that powered the Jaws of Life. Gage slipped inside the window of the car from the passenger side as the car shook slightly from the men of 57 chocking it with wood, preparing the car to be cut apart. By this time Johnny had his gloves on and was doing an assesment of his patient. Engine 78 was pulling up and their crew was getting geared up to assist Johnny. Clayton jammed the teeth of the Hurst Tool into the small gap between the door and frame of the car. The driver of the Honda looked at him groaning, "Awww what you doin to my car dude??" Johnny whispered,"Take it easy, Pal, I'm Johnny, I'm a paramedic from L.A. I'm here to help you." The man turned to look at him, Johnny eased his head to where it should be, looking straight ahead, as so not to further aggravate any neck injuries."Just look straight ahead and don't move your head, I don't know if you're hurt there and I don't want you hurting more than you already are." The man, a young hispanic man in his late teens moaned, "OK man, damn my dad is gonna kill me for this." Johnny took the collar that was handed to him by a man from Engine 78. "You mean this is a new car" he asked as he immoblized the mans' head. "No way man this IS my fathers' car. Ow ow ow ow that hurts, yo,DAMN!!!" A fireman from 78 was putting gauze over the nice sized laceration on the mans head. Johnny shook his head, " Does anything else hurt you sir??" He asked. "My leg hurts bad, yo. I think it's broke." Johnny looked down and saw the mans leg was bent at an angle that wasn't meant to be. He could also tell that the man was not wearing a seatbelt, by the spiderweb formed on the windshield, stained with a little bit of blood."Did you pass out or anything" He asked, "No I don't think" came the reply,"Damn, the car, why you cutting it up?" He was starting to get agitated as Peter adjusted the jaws to peel away the twisted door. Johnny said, "Look, pal, you're hurt and you're kind of trapped in here so we have to do this to get you out and get you fixed up so just answer my questions and we'll get you through this." John checked the mans' pupils, equal and reactive. Clayton popped the door away and opened it, pushing it a lot further than it was meant to go. He handed Johnny a blanket,"Cover yourselves up, we're taking the roof." John covered himself and his patient as glass from the windshield was sawed away, small pieces raining off the blanket. As it was removed the men of 57 hooked up the cutters. Clayton snipped away the A posts of the windshield and the B post behind the drivers side door. He then made a small incision in the roof and passed the cutters over to another man from 57. The other fireman repeated Claytons cuts on the passenger side and they both pulled the roof back onto itself. Johnny was joined by another fireman from 78, although he wasn't wearing a typical black Engine company helmet shield. His was yellow with a white 55. "Whaddaya got Bro??: Jimmy Doherty asked Gage. "Looks like a fib tib fracture left leg, laceration to the head no LOC breathing was a little labored, I think he hit the steering wheel too." "OK buddy let's get him out of here. Doherty began to slide the shortboard behind the driver as Gage moved him up to accomodate for the board. As the man was secured to the board Johnny did a quick set of vital signs. Pulse 98 and regular, respirations 20 and labored, BP 120 over 76. Two other firemen from 78 stabilized the mans' leg as he cried out in pain. Johnny spoke,"Easy there buddy they're gonna splint your leg and straighten it out some." The man screamed. "I want something for the pain yo. Can't you give me something like some aspirin??" "Sorry I can't but maybe those guys can." He pointed to the two FDNY Paramedics standing there awaiting the patient. One was a tall stocky fellow, Brush cut red hair and a scowl on his face, looking as if he didn't approve of what he was seeing. The other an older black woman, a simple smile on her face. "Can you believe this Esther??" the red headed medic whispered. The pair stepped up and watched a little closer as the patient was slipped on to a longboard and strapped in gently. The red head walked over to Gage as his partner continued her assesment of the patient. "LA County?? Ummm you get lost or something??" Gage looked over the Mark McGwire look alike."I'm on an exhange program, I'm a Firefighter/Medic from LA" "Oh I see, well enjoy your stay, and watch out for these firemen. They'll have you doing the stare of life and singing Kum-Bay-Yah in no time" Jimmy Doherty spoke up, "Play nice, John, just rememeber who patches them all up before you get there." "Whatever, Doherty," the medic shot back. "So a fib tib with a head laceration and what else??" Johnny spoke to his FDNY counterpart, "looks like maybe some cracked ribs or sternum I didn't get much of a chance to listen to his breathing but it sounded labored at first glance. Oh yeah and he's really distraught about his fathers' car" "OK Teriffic, that's the least of his worries" the medic said, "Please stay away from these fireman dude, they'll get you lazy in a heartbeat." Doherty growled, "Can it, John, I may not be so caring when I'm breaking a door down for you next time." He shot back, "OK Jimmy, I'll just make sure not to call you and I'll get Sully and Davis to call in ESU for me, a little more finesse involved. See ya around and thanks LA" Gage looked at the fireman, "What was that all about??" Jimmy Doherty shook his head, "Oh that?? Just some playful banter, John doesn't like firemen playing with band-aids and defibrillators and he lets me know everytime I see him. By the way I'm Jimmy Doherty" He offered his hand not realizing he still had his glove on. Gage took his hand, his glove still on and overlooking the blood smeared on each."John Gage L.A. County. Fire Department. Here on an Exchange." "Oh yeah I heard about you guys." Doherty said."I'm riding some overtime in 78 today and I usually work in Harlem in Squad 55, I hear you'll be riding with the medics later on this week." "Seems that way" John said. Doherty replied, "well I am working in the Squad Thursday night so I may see you. The EMS station is right next door, and you might be riding with Mr. Happy over there. Gage looked and said "I cherish the thought" Doherty nodded and said"See ya around Gage, stay low, especially with these guys from 57." "Get outta here Jimmy," Clayton yelled, "you know you Squad guys are just the junior varsity anyway, had to make yourself feel good and ride OT in an engine??" "Still your happy cheerful self Petey?? I miss working with you guys, nice to see ya pal stay safe!!!" Doherty winked at Clayton and walked over to the rest of the enginemen as they made their way back to the rig. Clayton turned to Gage, "Jimmy used to work in the engine and then went to the Squad in Harlem a few years ago. I was at his wedding and for his kids' christening too. We go back aways, come on let's get this mess cleaned up" Gage threw his used gloves into the bag on the rear of Engine 78 and helped the men of 57 take up the tools as the tow truck pulled the car out from under the truck. More fruit spilled out of the truck and rolled down the street, the driver still screaming and cursing in Spanish as the two policemen took their report.

As the morning went on, the crew of Ladder 57 continued the inspections of the hydrants in the area. While they followed the Monday morning rituals, Engine 85 found themselves parked in front of the local Supermarket, shopping for lunch. About 1 in the afternoon, 57 returned to the firehouse and the men marched back into the kitchen. Clayton frowned at the spread on the table. Assorted Deli meats, cheese and condiments laid on the table. In one corner a large bag of Kaiser rolls. "Jacobs, what the hell is this? This is noshing food, you call this lunch??" Lou barked back, "Shaddap asshole, this is just a primer for the delicacy I am planning for tonight." Roy was locked in a discussion with Lieutenant Steuben when he looked at the two fireman bickering. "What a pair they are, Bill." Steuben responded, "Yup, but if Jacobs had just flipped him off he would have been telling him he didn't like Pete. Asshole is like a caling someone sweetheart here." Johnny was now talking seriously with Jacobs about second jobs, "We tried a floor cleaning service but it just didn't work out, And I tried the rodeo thing, roped a few cattle here and there, and then nearly got myself gored so I got far away from that idea." Jacobs just smiled,"Did you ever try anything a little more tame Johnny? Like plumbing? I do a little side work on my days off and it keeps the bills paid." Johnny thought for a second, "Hmm Plumbing, you know, that's not a bad idea." Roy rolled his eyes, another Gage debacle was being conceived for their return to LA. Gage sat down at the table, spreading some mustard on his ham and swiss sandwich. Roy bit into his turkey sandwich marvelling at the taste of the roll."Where do you guys find this bread??" Jacobs spoke up, "Great bakery over on Arthur Avenue up around one seventy-eighth street. Enzo, the guy that runs the place sets aside some of the rolls for us and bags them for us just after he bakes them." He inquired of Roy, "Now aside from being paramedics out there what else do you do?? Do you do any actual firefighting?" "Well," Roy answered, "We ride in the Squad, we carry some light extrication tools and some truck tools, we're usually doing searches at structure fires." John asked Peter, "Hey that guy Jimmy we were talking to this morning, he rides in a Squad, that's nothing like ours is it?" Clayton spoke, "Nope they do Engine work mostly, occasionally they do Truck work, some Rescue work. They even have a van they take with all the Haz Mat stuff, most of the time they get in the way." A good natured ribbing to his friend. Gage spoke back, "And the paramedics, they aren't trained as firemen??" Steuben spoke up, "No way, EMS is pretty much separate from us, they were talking about making the Squads Paramedic trained not too long after they were formed a few years ago but that got squashed." Cohen replied, "A lot of the times the first responder engines get to the people a little faster and we treat em as best we can till EMS rolls up." Roy took a swallow of his pink lemonade from the cleaned out spaghetti sauce jar that held it."Seems like the care provided can be a little better, maybe push the department to train you as EMTs" A collective groan spread thru the kitchen. Steuben frowned, "I doubt it Roy, a lot of the guys didn't like doing the EMS work around here and still don't. But the people who yell the loudest don't realize if it weren't for the CFR work, they'd be out of a job, firehouses would be closed left and right." Cohen piped in, "I occasionally work in the Engine and I was over in 98 Engine when it first started and I hated it, still do." Johnny asked, "You guys get a lot of brush fires around here?" Clayton answered, "Not really, nothing like you guys get where you have miles of stuff going at once. I worked out at Engine 173 in Staten Island when I first got on the job, we had a Brush Fire Unit in with us and usually during the early spring we were doing nothing but brush fires usually an acre or two tops but nothing where you have the mass evacuations" "Not to mention the Santa Ana winds" De Soto said. "I had a question, it seems that none of the units in the houses together have the same number. In L.A. each house has the same unit numbers, like our house is Engine and Squad 51, Station 36 down the road is Squad 36, Engine 36 and and Engine 236." Clayton replied "It's a tradition thing, Roy" Clayton wanted to show off his fire knowledge a little, being he was the firehouse historian. "In the early days of the department they had engines and ladders in separate houses. When they started to build newer firehouses and move the companies together they pretty much kept the units the numbers they had before they moved them in together. Brooklyn and Queens had separate fire departments near the turn of the century and when they were absorbed into the fire department of New York they had their numbers changed to reflect the department growing. Brooklyn Engine 23 became Engine 223 and so on." "More useless information straight from the fountain of BS" Jacobs chuckled. "Eat me Jakey, this is fun stuff you find out when you're related to a dispatcher who keeps us from getting relocated to Lower Manhattan or Queens anytime he's working" Clayton barked back. "At one time Roy we were so busy we had two engines in here Engine 85, and Engine 85-2, and we would split the area up between the two engines.Did ya know 85-2 was disbanded in 1976 to organize Ladder 68 in Soundview? Did ya know that ya old fart??" He smiled at Jacobs. Cohen shot back, "Did you know that Ladder 57 was supposed to end up over in Throggs Neck, Petey?? Did you know if it weren't the way things were back when this company was organized in 1960 that this company would be sitting in a country club and probably have been shut down in the fiscal crunch back in the 70's?? Stick that one in your pipe and smoke it smart guy!!!" Cohen loved teasing Clayton when he got on one of his rants. Clayton lit up another cigarette and exhaled slowly, "No way C-Bear, we are the best in Da Bronx!!!"

As the men finished lunch. Lt. Steuben began his drill. "We were over in the Marshall Houses on Trinity Avenue before going shopping. You guys know the ones. Those 12 and 16 story projects there." The men nodded in unison a few "yeahs" sprinkled in. "We did some snooping around and noticed the apartments in the rear of the floors coming off the stairs or elevator are set back really far, so anytime the Engine gets a run over there, we have to hook up to the standpipe and run about 5 lengths to reach anything in the F and J lines of apartments and that is throughout the building" Cohen stood up and spoke, "Truck operations are gonna be a little hairy in there too. The super told Billy that they just put in those energy efficeint windows in on the top 3 floors and are working their way down. So if we get a top floor job up there, we probably won't see any real heavy conditions, but the minute we open the apartment up and that fire's been going for a while we are going to know. Also, these windows are a pain to break so you'd be better off opening them before knocking yourselves out trying to bust them out with a hook or axe." Steuben continued where Cohen left off, "Also if these windows are blown out by any chance, that fire is going to have probably taken out most of the apartment, and if they blow out as we pull up watch it, these windows are at least 2 inches thick so you'll have some nasty debris coming down. We've forwarded the info to headquarters and recommended that the dispatchers give us a third truck company for venting if we get a fire up there." Timmy Healy finished washing the dishes with Clayton and meandered back to the housewatch booth. He yelled back to Steuben that the teleprinter was now working and the voice alarm would only be used for announcements. The tone blared again through the speakers. "All hands operating Box 2-6-9-5 Lafayette Avenue and Castle Hill Avenue for a fire in a private house, No special units required, time 1423 Dispatcher 3-1-5" Steuben grinned, "Sounds like some work in Soundview for 77 Engine" He then explained the alarm system to Roy and Johnny. Three engines and two ladders had to be working for it to be considred and All Hands fire, then the subsequent Alarms with each higher number requesting four more engines, one or two ladders depending on the level, and the special units like a deluge wagon(known as Satellites) and searchlight units(called Tactical Support, or TAC units) responding on the higher alarms. They also bantered about, discussing baseball, the rotten season the Mets were having, just losing to Roys' beloved Dodgers yesterday.Roy chuckled as former Dodger and current Met, Mike Piazza had struck out three times in the game. The discussion turned to Roys wife Joanne, and his two children, Jennifer and Chris. Steuben showed off the pictures of his family, tucked inside his helmet. Steubens' wife Marie and his children, Billy Jr, and Sarah and Marissa, 4 year old twins. As the discussion broke up, John and Roy walked over to a corner of the apparatus floor.

Johnny looked at Roy, "Lou Jacobs had a good point there Roy, we could do plumbing on our off time, he was saying the ladder guys here do it a lot because of all the water conditions they have to go to." "Now John what do you know about plumbing, have you ever tried it??" Roy asked, "Ever tried fixing a stopped up toilet? I'm telling you sometimes it is more than a plunger and a bottle of Drano can fix" Gage grinned, "But that's just it partner, How hard could it be? Everyone has problems with the plumbing at one time, and we could make a mint doing it." Roy put his hand up to stop his younger partner. As he tried to wave him off a high/low tone blared thru the speakers and they heard the hum of the printer from the housewatch. Healy rang the firehouse bell three times, alerting the New York Firemen that both companies had a run. Healys high pitched, nearly childlike voice came over the speakers. "Everybody goes, Engine second due, Truck first due Box 2-5-1-5, 8-0-7 Trinity off of one sixty fifth, fire on the 10th floor" Healys' voice ebbed with excitement most rookie firemen had.

Healy handed off the printout of the fire tickets to the officers and scrambled to his gear, throwing it on and leaping into the engine. Roy hopped up into the cab and adjusted his gear. Engine 85s' chauffer gunned it into the street, turning hard to the right as Steuben leaned on the air horn. Ladder 57 followed about three car lengths back. The radio crackled with life as the alarm was announced over the radio, the dispatcher relaying additional information to Battalion 29, more calls reporting the fire had been received and an additional engine and the recsue had been added to the assignment, and that the calls were indicating a working fire. The dispatcher shifted his voice to Engine 85, "Bronx to Engine 8-5," "Eighty-five K" Steuben yelled into the handset, over the wail of the siren. "8-5, Engine 9-8 is going to be delayed, you'll probably be getting in first due with the truck, also, numerous calls, looks like you got some work there, K" "10-4 Bronx" Steuben replied as he slammed the handset down. He turned his head to his men, "Dispatcher says 98 is gonna be delayed, we got it first due and we're going to work. I want 5 lengths of 2 1/2 pulled and we may have to do a hydrant stretch, looks like the closest hydrant is about 150 feet from the building." Steubens men nodded and began strapping on their air packs. Electricity seemed to flow through the men, knowing they were going to be taking on the fire up front. Steuben yelled back to Timmy Healy, "Probie you stay right next to me, this is one of those buildings we were talking about at lunchtime and I want to keep an eye on you."Healy nodded and shouted "Gotcha Loo" He turned to Roy"Same goes for you, Roy, these project fires can be a real bitch, you take the spare airpack on the chauffers side of the rig and stick close." The Mean Machines raced up Third avenue, Engine 85 making another hard right turn up the avenue, the Jolly Roger fluttering wildly. They made nother right turn onto 165th street and saw a faint wisp of smoke in the air. The engine slowed to the hydrant on the corner of Trinity Avenue. One man stepped out and pulled some hose from the rear of the engine, wrapping it to the hydrant. He made some hand signals to the engine driver and the engine slowly lumbered up the street, hose feeding out from the rig to the street. The fireman opened the cap of the hydrant, turning it on to let some water flow and making sure the hydrant worked properly before attaching the hose. He waited until the engine had stopped and the line was hooked into the rear intake port before starting water. Steuben looked up and saw smoke pushing lightly from a window on the tenth floor. "85 Engine to the Bronx 10-75 Box 2-5-1-5 fire on the tenth floor, looks like a 12 story project about 100 by 150" The dispatcher acknowledged and toned out the working fire signal. Steuben looked up again as the window blew out, sending thick shards of glass into the courtyard below. Flames erupted from the window, smoke belching as the fire had ripped away from its confinement. He hustled his men toward the building as his chauffer laid a line into the standpipe outlet near the lobby door. A number of people were rushing out the door yelling about people being trapped on the tenth and eleventh floor. Roy yelled over, "Bill, they're saying we got people trapped on the tenth floor maybe someone in the apartment." Steuben nodded and radioed the information to Cohen who was streaking with the men of Ladder 57 to the stairwell.

Clayton and Gage went to the tenth floor and chocked open the stairway door. Clayton motioned to Gage to follow him higher up the stairs. Smoke was pushing into the stairwell and visibility was dropping in the trash strewn staircase. They reached a door leading to the roof and Clayton pried it open with his halligan bar when it would not open by hand. He radioed down to Cohen that the roof door was open and the roof appeared clear. He and Johnny were then directed to search the floors above for anyone needing assistance. The smoke was lifitng some but visibility was still poor, Clayton turned on the flashlight he had attached to his coat. The two worked their way down to the 11th floor and opened the door. There was little smoke but the heat was growing. "It's probably cooking down there," he said. "We're gonna check out the apartments here for anyone needing to get out and also make sure there isn't any extension up." Project type buildings are fire resistant and damage is primarily contained to the fire apartment but the floor above was still checked as a precaution. They reached the apartment directly above the fire and knocked on the door. An elderly lady came to the door. "Oh hello Mr Fireman," she said. "Are you here for me??" Peter replied, "Kind of, Dear, there's a fire downstairs and we want to see if your apartment and you are ok." "Ooooooh Lord, is that what's going on?? I was wondering why it was so much hotter in here and all that smoke." Peter gave the apartment a quick glance and led the lady to the stairs, Johnny was busy rounding up the other people and leading them to the stairs. He looked at Peter, "Floor's clear and I won't say anything about you being so nice to that little old lady." Clayton grinned, "I got a soft spot for the little old ladies, C'mon we gotta get them downstairs." They gingerly led the people down another set of stairs, as not to disrupt the firefighters. Shortly, they reached the lobby where a flurry of firefighters and chiefs were gathering. Clayton walked the elderly lady to the backstep of Engine 98 and sat her down, "Now you just wait here ma'am while these guys from EMS look you over." Two EMTs began a quick assesment of the lady. "Oh thank you Mr. Fireman, will I be able to go back home??" "Maybe later, dear," Clayton said "once we take care of busness upstairs" A girl in the crowd yelled out "You go, Fireman!!!" Gage laughed, Clayton giggled, "My public, how they love me, they'll be throwing friggin rocks at me on Halloween!!" Other ladder comapnies had been continuing the searches of the floors above the fire and Gage and Clayton returned to assist them.

DeSoto crouched down next to Steuben as they reached the tenth floor Steuben directed his men to mask up and they complied, pulling the nomex hood over the masks and re-donning their helmets. The heat was building as they inched into the hallway. They had hooked up to the standpipe on the ninth floor and faked out the hose to prevent it from kinking. Visibility dropped to about 3 feet and all one could hear was the mechanical rhythm of the airpacks as each man inhaled. Steuben yelled into his handie talkie, "8-5 to 8-5 Chauffer start water!!" "10-4, Billy" came the crackling reply. As they moved closer the heat grew more intense. Roy did a visual sweep of the hallway. Litter was piled on the floor in numerous spots and he could see graffiti marring the walls. The smoke had banked down some and was nearing about chest level in the hall. They heard the soft thump of the water filling the hose and the men felt it grow rigid in their gloved hands. Lou Jacobs opened up the nozzle and directed a short burst along the floor to clear away any debris. Cohen and his men inched ahead of the advancing hose line and moved up to the door of the blazing apartment. "Watch it Chuck" Steubens muffled yell came out. The door was broken at the knob as another man from 57 forced entry into another apartment, to be used as a refuge if conditions deteriorated quickly. Cohen and another 57 Truckie shoved the door open to apartment 10 F. Flames roared out the door and the men hit the floor hard. The inferno lapped out into the hallway. Engine 85s' men fell prone on the floor as the flames roared over them. "SHIT!!!!" Steuben yelled, "Louie HIT IT!!" Jacobs opened up again, aiming higher. The wind had pushed the flames into the hallway catching the men in a nearly inescapable wind tunnel. Steam filled the hallway singing the men in scalding water vapor. The flames shot out like a blowtorch and heat radiated from the concrete walls, much like a brick oven. Steuben looked around quickly, rising up from his prone position to see his men yelling numerous obscenities underneath the facepieces of their airpacks. Jacobs directed the water closer to the apartment, shoving the fire back into the apartment. The reddish glow shrunk back into its concrete cell. They advanced closer to find Cohen and his men still ducking down near the entrance to the refuge apartment. "You OK Chuckie??" Steuben asked. Cohen gave him a thumbs up. They moved closer. Voices filled the hall behind them. Engine 98s' men had come up. They hauled their line just behind 85 and opened up, beating the fire back further into the apartment. Jacobs gave the floor of the apartment a quick sweep knocking back burning debris and giving them a clear path into the apartment. The heat was still oven like as they pressed on into the apartment. 98 moved with them, going to the right as they entered. 85 proceeded to the left. The apartment was scorched, flames licked around the door frames to each room. Once inside they were able to knock most of the fire down quickly. A few more stubborn spots remained. Cohen led his men thru the apartment, searching for vicitms. Roy stuck close to Steuben, as he directed Jacobs on the nozzle. Roy felt something crunch under his feet. He looked down to see a small plastic cylinder with a red cap, now mangled beside his boot. He looked around and saw numerous little cylinders. Crack vials. "Bill, look at this" he said, picking up the crunched vial. "Damn we just walked into a crackhouse" Steuben replied. He directed Jacobs to sweep the floor once again. As the visibility grew better they saw a number of empty vials and syringes thrown about by the hoses' stream. Steubens' handie talkie came to life. It was Chuck Cohen. "Ladder 5-7 to Battalion 2-9, we got a 10-45 in the fire apartment,K" "10-4 Chuckie" came Chief O'Hanlons' reply,"What's the code, Lad??" Cohens' voice crackled back, "Code 1, fatal, Chief, in the bedroom, you better come up and look at this, fires pretty much knocked down.K" "10-4 5-7, I'll be along in a minute" O'Hanlons' brogue echoed thru each of the mens' radios. Jacobs extinguished a smoldering pile of newspapers and shut the hose line down. The firemen removed their masks and shut them down, conserving what little air they had left in the pressurized bottles. PASS alarms chirped and went silent. Eight firemen stood in the small bedroom of the apartment, gazing upon the charred remains of a human being in the bed. The body was contorted in a strange position. Legs spread, hands appeared to be at the sides, fingers leading towards the back. "Don't touch nothing" Steuben yelled. He and Roy looked over to see young Timmy Healy retching in the next room. Cohen and DeSoto walked over to the young fireman. Healy had a pale look on his face, sweat dripped thru his short red hair his eyes looked hollow. "Whatsa matter, Timmy, you take some feed, kid??" Cohen asked. "No Loo," He choked, tears starting to well up in his green eyes. He pointed to the corpse, still smoldering on the bed. "Never seen anyone that bad before, can't even tell if it's a person. Man or woman." He sobbed and retched again on the tile floor. Roy whispered to him, "It's ok Junior, just let it out." He put a hand on the young firemans shoulder. Roy caught another scent of the room. "Chuck, do you smell that??" Cohen sniffed, "Bet yer ass I do,Gasoline" Roy spoke, "Would explain the fire taking off like it did." Cohen conferred with Steuben and the three looked around the floor of the apartment. Blackened streaks marred the tile floor. The unmistakeable odor blended with the smoke and smell of burnt plastic and other materials. Steuben keyed his handi talkie. "8-5 to Battalion, K" "2-9" came O'Hanlons voice. "Chief I think we got an arson here too.K" "10-4 Billy, I'm almost upstairs." Chief O'Hanlon stood at the apartment door moments later, cigar clamped in his teeth. He lit it and walked over to Roy, "So DeSoto what did ya think of yer first job up here in the wasteland." Roy said, "Chief I have to say I am impressed with the way things are going so far, except for this." He motioned to the corpse on the bed. O'Hanlon looked around the apartment, speaking to Cohen, "What did you lads find when ya got in here?" Cohen said, "Heavy fire pushing out the door, when we forced it, almost got roasted, the wind pushed it out at us, but 85 beat it back pretty good." By this time Clayton and Gage had returned from the searches. "All primary searches on the floors above are negative Chief, 63 and 66 are doing the secondaries." Peter said. O'Hanlon puffed his cigar, "Thank ye, lad, you too Fireman Gage" Johnny nodded, "All in a days' work Chief" "Oh just you wait son, Plenty more for you guys to do." Clayton looked into the apartment, "Jeeze what a mess, hey Johnny check this out" Gage looked at the lifeless form sprawled before him. "Ouch" he whispered. Chief O'Hanlon turned to Bill Steuben, "What else ya got for me Billy??" "Streaks across the floor consistent with a pouring pattern, looks like it started in the bedroom right inside the door. There's a pretty nasty ring around the bed and the place stinks of gasoline." O'Hanlon grimaced, "OK Lads, ya done good." He looked at Timmy Healy, who had now stood up and was leaning against the door to the bathroom. "Probie Healy, ya look like ya seen a ghost, Lad. This yer first crispy critter" "Yes Sir, Chief O'Hanlon, Sir." He said. "Ahh it's ok I remember my first too." Go on downstairs with the rest of the boys and take a blow, you did good up here son." Gage looked a little closer at the corpse, seeing something that didn't seem right. "Lieutenant Cohen, Roy, Chief, take a look at this." Roy kneeled down next to his partner, taking great care in not brushing against anything. "You see what I see Roy??" Roy nodded grimly. Cohen looked down and muttered, "Ahhhh shit" O'Hanlon took a closer look too. Two small holes in the skull of the vicitm. Burnt brian matter seeped from each circular wound. The victim had been shot, execution style, they examined the corpses' arms and found melted tape near the wrists. There was no question that this fire had been set to cover up a more gruesome crime. O'Hanlon grabbed his mike, "Battalion 2-9 to Division 9" "9,K" "Bob, get the fire marshalls and the cops up here, the lads from L.A. and 57 Truck found the 10-45, looks like it was shot, can't tell the gender, K" "9, 10-4" O'Hanlon snapped the men together, "OK Lads, step out slow and leave everything like you found it. The cops and marshalls don't want us turning this into a mess. Healy, go down and get some fire scene tape out of my car." Healy complied and hurried downstairs.

Once the room was taped over, two police officers stood watch in the hallway near the burned out apartment door. One of them spoke with the Chief. "LaShawna lived here with her boyfriend Tyree, they been dealing out of here for about a year and a half. The detectives in Narcotics were making buys out of here for a few months gathering evidence against them. Looks like one of the customers didn't like the wares they were selling" O'Hanlon replied, "No Lad it doesn't" Cohen came over, "If the detectives need anything we'll be back at the firehouse. One Sixty-First off of Third Avenue, Chief we're gonna take up" The officer broke out his notepad and scribled it down along with the names of the fire chief and Lieutenant Cohen. "Expect a phone call or a visit in the next few hours or maybe days. Was that LaShawna or Tyree??" he asked. "I dunno" Cohen replied. "Too crisped to tell." The officer nodded as Cohen walked to the stairs, folowed by O'Hanlon.

Roy and Johnny sat at the backstep of 85, sipping from paper cups. "A homicide" Roy spat. "I tell ya Roy, the things people do to other people" Johnny said wiping some soot from his brow. Jacobs came over. "It's a vicious cycle, the crack dealers burn out the competition and then someone gets shot, they'll have someone else dealing out of that apratment again in 6 weeks after it gets all cleaned up." "Sensless, just senseless," Roy whispered, a hint of sadness in his eyes, "How's Timmy doing??" Jacobs looked over to see the young fireman gathering up hose. "He'll be ok, he's only been in the firehouse a few months, his uncle is a chief in Brooklyn, he'll get through, he comes from a good firefighting family. He worked in the truck a few weeks back and made a hell of a grab. Pulled two kids and a grandmother out of a basement apartment over on Southern Boulevard by himself. They were burnt pretty bad but not like what we saw upstairs. Timmy's gonna be OK" Roy wondered if anyone ever got over the first time someone died in a fire. He remembered his all those years ago a vagrant in an abandoned factory. That fire had been set as well. A couple of kids getting their jollies watching a factory the size of a city block burn.

The day passed quickly and the crew of Engine 85 and Ladder 57 sat about the kitchen of the firehouse. Timmy Healy had gone upstairs to the weight room to work out a little before dinner. Peter Clayton and Lou Jacobs sat on the front bumper of Ladder 57 discussing bluefishing and if the New Jersey Shore was a better plan for the firehouse trip than Sheepshead Bay Brooklyn. It was a good cover for the ogling of the young ladies walking by, each of them waved and said hello when greeted by the girls, occasionally the random lewd comment about a part of the female anatomy slipped out.Steuben and Cohen were upstairs in their respective offices filling out reports and doing the paperwork, comparing notes occasionally on the fire they had a few hours earlier. John and Roy were walking into the rec room, what a set up this firehouse had. A large screen TV, stereo system, pooltable, dartboard, and a number of couches. Pictures of fires from earlier years hung from frames on the walls little strips of paper taped to the frame showed the Box number, location and some quick notes on each fire. Assorted pictures of firefighters standing around the rigs also hung from the walls. One corner held portraits of the men and their wives, fianceees, and girlfriends at various parties held over the years. Nothing like the bare walls of 51. John reclined back on the couch and exhaled deeply. "Roy I still think we could make a killing in the plumbing business, Irenes' brother knows a guy..." "Johnny, the answer is still no, besides when was the last time you spoke to Irene??" Roy knew of Johnnys' last love. A pretty brunette from Venice Beach. "Yeah but we're still on friendly terms" Friendly terms for John Gage meant being told to take a hike, usually with a shoe thrown in his direction. Jacobs poked his head in the door. "Guys it's 630 the engine is goin over to get dinner, Roy you're welcome to come with us." "Sure, Lou," He glanced at his friend and partner, "You think you can stay out of trouble for a little while??" John grinned, "I'll do my best pal, see ya in a little while."

Dinner was ready by 9 O'clock. Jacobs made a succulent Chicken Parmigiana over Linguine. Timmy Healey had made the salad. Cohen ribbed the young fireman over the lack of croutons, and the sentiment was chorused by the other members of the company. He made up for it with the dressing, a home made vinagrette. Clayton added his contribution to the dressing selections. Five Hundred Islands he called it, a long lost family recipie anded down over the generations thru word of mouth. Actually it was just ketchup and mayonaisse with some garlic and other seasonings thrown in. Tummies were filled without the disruptiuon of an alarm ringing.

Around 11 the men started to turn in for the night. Strangely it had been a slow evening at the firehouse. The bustling of the street outside faded to a soft din, occasionally broken by a jet flying out of nearby La Guardia Airport. Occasionally a car alarm rang out its two minute symphony of annoyance. Johnny lay in his bunk staring at the ceiling, eyes fluttering before drifting off into much needed slumber. Roy was fast asleep a few bunks away.

The still of the night was shattered around 3 am with the blare of the tone alert. The housewatch rang out three bells and yelled over the intercom. "Everbody goes!!!! First Due!!! Westchester Avenue and Simpson Street, smoke from a store!!!!" Johnny followed Roy down the pole, Jacobs and Clayton trailing just behind them. They hit the floor to find the doors open in the warm New York night, the apparatus engines idling. The housewatchmen handed Steuben and Cohen the fire tickets and bounded to the door, letting the rigs pull out onto the apron. He closed the doors and leaped into the Engine. The Dispatchers' voice crackled over the radio as Bill Steuben leaned on the airhorn. "Phone alarm in Da Bronx, Box 2-4-1-7. Westchester Avenue and Simpson Street smoke from a store. 2-4-1-7 is the Box, Westchester Avenue and Simpson Street for a store. Bronx to Engine 8-5 K." "Eighty-five" Steuben spoke. "Numerous calls on this one Loo, you're going to work there, K" "10-4 Bronx" Steuben replied. The Dispatcher followed with a call to the Battalion. "Ya got the full boat there 2-9, 4 engines 2 trucks, rescue and squad K Time now is 0-tree-2-7 Dispatcher Tree Tree oh." The men rechecked their gear as they rounded the next corner.

Cohen looked ahead of the engine to see smoke in the street and the lights of Ladder 63 making the turn onto Westchester Avenue underneath the Elevated Subway. Ladder 63s' tiller slithered between the pilings and headed directly towards them. Cohen radioed them to stand fast so 57 could have a chance to put the bucket up. He then radioed in the 10-75 for the working fire.

Ladder 57s' chauffer was busy throwing protable ladders to the roof as 85 hooked up to the hydrant. Johnny followed Peter to the roof while 85 readied the hose line and his men at the front of the fire building. Saws bit into the rolled down gates in front of the building, sparks flew. Roy stood next to Cohen as he did his size up of the building. It was about 100x100, smoke seeped from under the doors and from the roof. No Flames were visible but once the fire got the air it needed, it was sure to take off. Johnny and Peter stepped gingerly onto the roof. Clayton radioed down "5-7 Roof to 5-7, we're gonna cut an inspection hole." They stepped about 25 feet down the length of the stores' roof. Peter set up his saw while Johnny walked to assist him. Johnny came closer and his foot hit a discolored patch on the roof, Peter gasped and reached out for Gage as his shot straight into the roof. Wood crunched and embers flew up as Johhny yelled out in anger. Clayton bolted to him and eased him up out of the hole. Gages' turnout leg covered in soot and melted tar. "You OK Bro??" Peter asked. "Yeah, a little singed" Gage replied as he looked down at the blackened mess on his pants. Clayton looked him over and surveyed the roof. Tar bubbled from the shingles. "Looks like they tar papered over where they had skylights, gotta watch out for it." Clayton radioed his findings down to Cohen. "OK Petey, just make a couple of quick trench cuts and get outta there, we're getting in and it looks like it's gonna light off" The two cut a swath across the roof, cutting parallel to the beams. Johnny punched a hole in the trench with his pike pole and was greeted by flames. Fire belched from the cut. Clayton looked around as the smoke thickened. "This is not good, we gotta get outta here"

Chief O'Hanlon surveyed his scene, his orders occasionally drowned out by the thunder of the subway trains passing some 40 feet above him. The windows of the store finally shattered from the heat, turning the inky shroud of smoke into a soft orange glow. The fire roared to life as the doors were finally forced by 57 and 65. Engine 85 and 99 started pushing back the flames as best they could but thie inferno had a very strong hold on this building and was not giving it up anytime soon. O'Hanlon scrambled for his radio, "2-9 to the Bronx, Transmit a second alarm, we got a one story taxpayer 100 by 100 heavy fire condition with possible extension into the cockloft, two lines stretched and operating, and make sure one of my trucks on the second is a tower ladder." The Dispatcher complied, alert tones shouted over the radios adding more to the already noisy scene.

Clayton and Gage edged their way toward the ladder, attempting to reach the safety of the street. Tar continued to boil under their feet. "5-7 roof to Battalion" Clayton shouted into his handi-talkie, "Fire's in the cockloft we're bailing out!!!!" As they moved for the ladder the roof ahead of them gave way. Flames and embers danced over their heads. "Shit" Peter muttered, "Back it up Johnny, maybe they got a ladder up in the back." They turned and hauled it for the rear of the building. Commotion could be heard on the street over the growling of the fire. Peters' radio shouted out"Battalion to 5-7 roof, where are ya kid??" Peter keyed his, "Headed for the rear Chief" "10-4 Petey, the front facade just came down, we got everybody out, get the hell off the roof!!!!" O'Hanlons voice sonded tense, yet controlled. Gage was full three steps ahead of Clayton when they reached the rear of the store. Smoke was pushing from the windows beneath them. "5-7 Roof to Battalion, get me a ladder int he rear!!!!" Peter shouted thru his mike. The cut they had made earlier was was now blazing. Flames leaped a number of feet from it. A loud groan came from the roof as it began to split open. Gage turned to see the fire snaking fast along the now gaping fissure in the roof, burning a deadly path toward him and Clayton. Clayton rushed toward him, Johnny grabbed Claytons' airpack straps and yelled, "Hang on!!!!" he leaned backwards and pushed off the roof. They plummeted about fifteen feet into the grass and garbage of a vacant lot. Flames shot into the sky as the roof collapsed into the building. Gage hit the ground hard, debris and embers showering him. Peter landed directly on top of him, knocking each of them for a loop. Clayton was able to key his mike to radio in his mayday."Firemen down exposure 3 side of the building." He then slid the same dazed state Johnny was now in.

Both men awoke a few seconds later, Peters' blue eyes meeting Johnnys' gaze. Clayton noticed Johnny still had a grip on his airpack. "John, this does not mean we will be showering together when we get back to the firehouse." he whispered. Gage started to laugh, then caught himself. "OW OW OW that hurt" he ached all over,"Ummm Pete, would you mind getting off of me please??? I have a reputation to uphold back home" Clayton rolled off and tried to stand. Pain lanced at him fron his throbbing ankle and he sank to his knee,"Ouch Ouch owie ow oww" Gage sat up and looked around, wincing slightly from the various bumps and bruises he felt dispersed across his body, bumps and bruises he knew would be hurting for a while. He turned again to see Roy De Soto shining a flashlight at him. "You two okay???" he asked. "I think I'll live Pally, Pete thinks he twisted his ankle" John shouted to his partner. Lou Jacobs rushed over to them, followed by a number of Paramedics and Firefighters. Chief O'Hanlon looked down at Clayton, "Ya gave me a little scare there, Petey, you too Gage, try not to be doing that sort of thing again. I want to retire happy in a few years" The circle of concerned firefighters broke ranks as Clayton was wheeled on a stair chair and Johnny trudged to another one. Roy and Lou exchanged nervously relieved glances, knowing they almost lost two of their best friends to this blaze.

It was a quiet Tuesday morning at Station 51. Three months had passed since Johnny and Roys' New York adventure. Roll call had ended a few minutes earlier and the men of 51 were earnestly going about their chores. Roy nudged Johnny on the shoulder, turning his attention to the department sedan that eased up to the apron. "Looks like our company has arrived."he said. Two fire chiefs stepped out of the van followed by two firefighters in work uniforms. Judging by the appearance, they were not from LA County, or at least one of the chiefs and the two firemen weren't. Mike Stoker and Marco Lopez stopped polishing the chrome of Engine 51s' bumper, Chet Kelly poked his head around the corner of the big KME rigs' backstep to also spy on the arriving contingent. He leaned his mop on the step and wandered towards the latrine, a fearful look on his face suggesting he was the one the chief was here to see. Captain Stanley stepped out of his office to greet the chiefs. "Welcome to Staion 51, I'm Hank Stanley A shift captain" He extended his hand to the first chief. "Chief Harris from Headquarters, this is Chief Dunne from the New York City Fire Department, we're here to present an award to one of your men." Stanley gathered his troops around him. Behind the two chiefs stood Lou Jacobs and Peter Clayton, in cleaned and pressed FDNY work uniforms. Gone were the faded t-shirts and shorts they wore back in July. The men of 51 lined up as Captain Stanley introduced the chiefs to them. "And these are my two Paramedics, Roy DeSoto and John Gage." Chief Dunnes eyes brightened as he took Gages' hand. "Fireman Gage, you're the man I am here to see." He motioned to Clayton. He stepped up to them, a dark blue folder in his hand. Dunne took the folder and opened it, reaching for his glasses. He began to read "Presented to Firefighter/Paramedic John Gage of the Los Angeles County Fire Department in recognition of your actions while operating as an observer with Engine Company 8-5 and Ladder Company 5-7 at Bronx Third Alarm Box 2-4-1-7 Westchester Avenue and Simpson Street, transmitted at 0-3-2-3 hours July 19th of this year. Firefighter Gage, while involved in ventilation operations on the roof of a fully involved supermarket, and with no regard for his own safety pulled Firefighter First Grade Clayton of Ladder 5-7 from the roof of the fire building as it collapsed. His actions are in keeping with the highest traditions of the fire service and on behalf of the New York City Fire Department this Commendation is awarded." Dunne handed the award to Gage who stood there dumbstruck. Dunne continued, " I want you to know that Lieutenant Cohen and Fireman Clayton stated in the fire report that you be honored for what you did." John shook the chiefs' hand and then embraced Clayton as applause thundered inside the apparatus bay. Johnny turned to Jacobs, "What are you guys doing here??" Clayton answered for him, "Surprise!!! We're here to say thanks for all the fun we had back home and for saving my ass on that roof. I believe your Captain has another surprise for you." Stanley grinned, "That's right. Lou and Peter have been selected by their Deputy Chief to ride with us for the next two shifts, they will also be riding with Station 69 Saturday. Stoker piped in, "Good station out in the middle of nowhere, lot of brushfire duty." The men groaned. Gage inched closer to Clayton, "Thanks, this gets me out of latrine duty for at least a month." Chuckles bubbled up thru the fire station as Captain Stanley escorted the chiefs back to the van.

Jacobs laid his gear next to Chets' while chatting up a storm with Marco about firehouse cooking. Johnny gave Peter the nickle and dime tour of the Squad, while Roy applied the last of the wax to the Dodges' hood. "OK Pete I guess that's all I can show you for now," Johnny said as he closed the compartment door. "I'll show you where you'll be keeping your gear." He led Clayton to, of all places, the broom closet. "As you can see," Johnny said, "There's plenty of room for your stuff" Clayton opened the door of the closet, only to be met with a face full of cream pie. The men howled with laughter. Chester B. chuckled, "The Phantom strikes again!!!!" Johnny then led him to the latrine to clean off. Johnny opened the door only to be soaked by a large sandwich bag full of water set up in the doorway of the latrine. Clayton lauughed even harder, "Gotcha," he cackled. The two men cleaned up, laughing all the way. They stepped out to a round of applause. The merriment broken by the familiar tones and klaxon, other tones playing through the speaker. "Station 51, Station 36, Truck 127, Battalion 14, Structure fire. 2198 Avalon, 2-1-9-8 Avalon Cross Street two-nineteenth, time out 1023. The men were already aboard the rigs as Captain Stanley acknowledged with "KMG-3-6-5" The Engine and Squad rolled out onto the street, Stoker and DeSoto taking a hard right turn and headed towards the black plume of smoke rising in the distance.

Authors Note: The locations given in New York City are actual locations with correct cross streets and Fire Alarm Box locations. However only one Unit number, Rescue 3 is an actual FDNY unit.