Tuesday morning, A-shift was relieved when their night passed with only one call to a dumpster fire. Homeless drunks had been the cause of the blaze. One of them had gotten the bright idea of lighting the trash to keep warm. They were arrested. Luckily for everyone, the apartment building next to the dumpster had been in no danger, making the second alarm a mere precaution.
"You Know, Roy, I really think school should be a year round program," Johnny said as he and Roy went out back to their cars and eventually, home.
Roy smiled, "Don't let Jennifer and Chris hear you say that. They'll disown you as their uncle."
"True. Hey, we still on for tomorrow?" Johnny shouted to get above the noise in the alley behind them.
A block wall ran the length of the fire station's parking lot in the back to keep civilians from using up the spaces provided for personnel. A car back fired then died on the other side of the wall, drowning out Roy's answer. Instead, he nodded and pantomimed that he'd call Johnny later at home.
That night, Johnny fell into bed, not bothering to set the alarm even though he'd promised Roy he'd be ready at five a.m. to go fishing with him and Chris.
He was exhausted from bowling with another friend then going out dancing. At that moment, John was sure the only thing that could possibly wake him up would be a sonic boom. He left his scrub pants on the floor next to the bed, placed his watch on the bedside table, then turned the phone ringer up to high so he would hear it when Roy called.
John closed his eyes and willed his dreams to go away, fingering the dream catcher above his headboard. "It's going to be a long hot day tomorrow, I need to get some sleep." He watched as the clock, next to the bed, turned to 12:58 a.m. and made a plea to his brain to stop running in high gear.
Finally, he drifted off, unaware of the blaze that started in the next apartment.
The apartment had been empty for a week, since the last occupants found a house in a quiet neighborhood where they could raise a family.
Earlier in the day, a man had appeared at the superintendent's office, inquiring about the availability of apartments. The manager had shown him the one bedroom apartment, adding the extra assurance that a fireman/paramedic lived next door if a need for help arose.
"John Gage is a good man. He helps whenever anyone needs him and he's a good neighbor. No loud parties or anything," the superintendent said, taking his best shot at renting the apartment quickly. "Maybe you saw him on the news last night. He and his partner saved a boy's life yesterday."
Without answering, the potential renter looked around the apartment and then appraised the lock on the door before saying he'd think about it and call the super in the morning after checking out a few other places.
The superintendent told Johnny of his potential new neighbor when the wayward paramedic came home. Johnny would've escaped the super's notice if he hadn't tripped on a shoelace and fallen up the stairs.
Johnny was awakened from his dreams of a fire induced by the smell of smoke. He shot out of bed and saw smoke coming from the vent in the wall. Its smell was familiar to him as his own aftershave lotion.
He pulled on his pants, then quickly went to the apartment next door. There, he found the door standing open, and flames shooting up the wall that connected to his apartment. He rushed back to his apartment and called the fire department, then raced to the stairwell and pulled the fire alarm.
John then went to a glass door that covered a still-pipe and hose. He pulled the door open, retrieving the nozzle. He returned to the blaze, knocking on doors as he passed them.
By the time he returned to the blaze, his apartment was now ablaze, the fire having traveled through the vent system. "Oh, hell!" he exclaimed, dropping the hose. The fire had grown too big for him to put out alone, with only the apartment's meager hose. Getting the other residents to safety, however, was something he could do alone.
Heads began poking out from doors as the residents were awakened by the noise and shrill alarm in the hall. Johnny shouted at them. Some complied, leaving the building in their night clothes. Others froze at the sight of the flames and Johnny was forced to herd them out of the building.
Joanne's gentle nudging woke Roy from a sound sleep. "Honey, it's time to get up. You'll probably have to call that partner of yours and get him up," she smiled. She enjoyed teasing him about his and Johnny's plans to take nine year-old Chris out fishing on their last day off. There were times she wondered about the mental ages of her husband and his partner and best friend.
"Come on, I'll fix some coffee while you get a shower and wake Chris. I'll call Johnny."
Roy rubbed rubbed his face, slowly waking up to the offer of coffee and a warm shower.
Joanne DeSoto went down the stairs and flipped on the television, hoping to hear the weather report before her husband and child went out for the day. She had promised to take their daughter shopping. Five year-old Jenny's instinct to shop at every chance had blossomed early.
"A fire early this morning at Morning Ridge apartments has left one dead and several injured. If it hadn't been for the alarm sent out by John Gage, a resident of the apartments, the death toll could be higher," the faceless reporter droned on as the camera panned a damaged apartment building. Black streaks marred the outside of the building where flames had left soot, their calling card of disaster. Red flashes danced across the building and cars that were parked near it. Firemen walked around pulling hoses and helping victims to a triage area while onlookers gazed up at the sight.
Joanne had stopped making the coffee when she heard the report and run to the television, catching a glimpse of the man she considered part of the family. Johnny stood with a blanket wrapped around him, and a cup of steaming liquid in his hand.
"Roy!" she yelled, hoping her husband could hear her. "Roy, come quick!"
Roy heard Joanne's shoud and quickly put on his clothes. He ran down stairs to his wife, looking toward the television as she pointed to it.
"Johnny's apartment building caught on fire." Joanne's voice was now quiet.
"Mr. Gage," the reporter went on, only the back of his head visible to the camera. "Can I ask you some questions?"
Damp hair hung in strands on Johnny's head. What little could be seen of his t-shirt was wet.
"Mr. Gage, can you tell us what happened?" the reporter asked, not waiting for a reply.
Still stunned by the news, Roy half-listened. "I need to go and get him. Tell Chris I'll be back in a little bit, okay?"
"Okay. I'll find him some clean clothes and have a warm bath for him when you get back," Joanne said, half-listening to Johnny report finding the fire.
Roy drove the mile and half to his partner's destroyed home. Engine and Squad 51 were the last trucks to leave after making sure the fire was completely out. Fire Marshal Nick Robinson and Johnny were exiting the when Roy pulled up.
"Hey, Roy," Johnny greeted, weariness evident in his voice. "Guess you saw the news."
Roy put his hands in his pockets and fell in step beside the two men. "Yeah. You okay?"
Nodding, Johnny pulled the blanket close. His clothes were still damp and the morning air was cool.
Roy looked down at his partner's bare feet, then back into the tired brown eyes and taut face. "Come on, Joanne said she'd have some dry clothes and a warm bath for you."
Johnny was too tired to protest or see the slight nod the fire marshal gave Roy. Silently, John walked to Roy's car that was overlaid with the image of an elderly woman running back into the flames to get her family photos. She had never made it out, instead perishing with the pictures she had been so adamant to retrieve.
"You think it was arson?" Roy asked, as John shuffled toward the car.
The fire marshal shrugged off his turn out coat, glad to be out in the semi-fresh air. "Yeah. Whoever did it wasn't a professional. If he had been, it could have been a lot worse. Something to be thankful for, I guess. He used paint thinner. You can smell it and see its burn lines."
Nick turned around and propped against his car. With a heavy sigh, he continued, pointed to the second floor. "It started in the apartment next to Gage's. The manager said he'd just showed it to a man earlier yesterday. He's gone to the police station to look at mug shots. The woman who died lived on the other side. Gage is pretty shaken up about not being able to go back in to save her." Nick paused, silently agreeing that it would also have hurt him had it been the other way around.
"Well, I need to get this evidence to the lab," he gestured to the plastic bags he pulled out of his pocket and placed into a briefcase that lay in his front seat. "Tell your partner there was nothing else he could do. Getting the rest of the people out was his only option." Knowing the words would be of little comfort for the homeless paramedic, the fire marshal went around, got into his car and drove away.
When they arrived at Roy's house, Johnny silently stepped out of the car and headed inside. He walked past his hostess, stopping briefly to give her a kiss on the cheek. His steps were slow, shoulders stooped as he continued to recall the disaster at his home. He knew most of the residents, including the woman who had inadvertently committed suicide. Looking around the bathroom, Johnny was thankful for having a partner who cared for him and wondered if any of the other residents had places to go.
"How is he?" Joanne asked, concern by her adopted brother-in-law's behavior.
Roy led the way into the kitchen and pulled a jug of milk out of the refrigerator then poured himself a glass of milk. "That lady he helped a year ago died in the fire. He's taking it pretty hard. Fire Marshal says it was more than likely arson." Roy looked down into his glass, gently swirling it, watching the milk come up on the sides but never going over the edge. "His apartment was destroyed. Joanne, I was wondering…well, he doesn't have a place to stay…I know it would be crowded, but…"
"Yes, he can stay with us, Roy. You should know I'd never turn him away. He's part of our family and he needs help," she read her husband's words and hesitant behavior. Smiling, she slipped her hands around his waist. "Besides, we'll have a built in baby sitter."
"Hmph, we would, wouldn't we?"
Not far away from the burned apartment building, a station wagon sat alone, parked on the side of the road next to a park. The driver gripped the steering wheel tighter as he recalled the early morning news report. Beside him was a newspaper. Its front page glorified the demon that had killed Abraham Struthers' wife.
Abraham watched as Roy and Johnny made their way into the apartment building. The fact that the reason for Emie's death was still alive stoked the man's anger.
"Should have known the Devil can't be killed with fire," he murmured, hate in his heart and eyes.
Abraham had followed Roy and Johnny to Roy's after the fire. Since then, Abraham had been consumed by the desire to find a way to kill the devil he suspected John Gage of being.
Soot stuck to their clothes as the two men maneuvered through the burnt building. Water remained pooled in areas of the floor had become weak where gallons of water had been dumped on it and the walls in an attempt to put the fire out. Four apartments had been completely destroyed. Three more were heavily damaged by smoke and water.
The second floor where the fire had originated was stilled filled with the noxious odor of burned plastic, wood, and insulation. White 'x's were chalked on each closed apartment door, signaling that the room had been checked by firefighters the night before. Each room had been searched quickly for any victims that hadn't made it outside.
All that remained of John Gage's apartment were his bed frame and a few clothes in his dresser. Only the clothes piled deep in the drawers had been saved from the smoke. The rest was lost because of the smoke. Once it got into the material, the odor never left. As John and Roy made their way through the damaged rooms, they were overwhelmed by the tail left by the lames that had licked the ceiling and walls during its hunt for fuel.
"Man, I don't know what's worse," Johnny said as he propped against one of the few walls that remained intact. "Finding salvageable clothes or filing for insurance. You know, they actually wanted me to list everything that was lost? Roy, I don't even remember everything I had."
Roy listened to his friend's complaint. Being a victim of a fire had never entered their minds. During their five years in the fire service, they'd had consoled dozens and dozens of families who lost every possession in a house fire. Neither of them had ever expected to have to help themselves or each other through a fire. "We'll just take it a room at a time. And be thankful that you have your life."
His partner's soft words and encouragement made Johnny feel better. He nodded silently and led the way back to his living room. The depression had nearly overwhelmed him yesterday. His neighbor's death had stayed with him through the bath Joanne had prepared. After the bath, both Joanne and Roy had talked to him about his neighbor's death. Johnny knew they only wanted to help, but still felt that he'd failed. He still questioned whether he'd done all he could, in spite of their assurances that he had.
Eventually, they knew Johnny would come to realize that he could not have prevented it.
"Nick thinks it was arson," Johnny said as he picked up a picture frame. The photo inside was destroyed. The edges were crisp. A brown color now covered his mother's and father's faces. The only thing left in the original photo was the black of the horse John's mother stood beside. He was no longer was he able to see the blue ribbon she held from the horse show she'd entered. His father's rare smile was gone, too, along with the look of pride in his wife's accomplishment that had been so evident on his face. "How the hell can the insurance company replace this?"
"They can't." Roy sighed, understanding that anger was one of the steps in grieving. His friend had already passed through the first phase, denial. "If there is anything about you, it's that you're quick," he remarked as he followed Johnny to where the couch had been. The Navaho blanket that covered the back of the couch was gone. Nothing had been left of it. A leg was missing from the coffee table. More likely than not, it had been food for the ravenous flames. There were five gaping holes of varying sizes in the wall where the fire had eaten through the sheet rock of both apartments. That the fire had been deliberately set to kill Johnny had crossed Roy's mind. The reason remained a mystery to him.
"Come on, let's finish up here and get some fresh air, Junior," Roy picked up a piece pipe that had once hung on the wall. The feathers that had decorated its end near the bowl were gone.
The two worked in silence as they picked up the salvageable remains of John Gage's possessions and put them neatly into a box. Johnny had managed to salvage a few shirts, but the remaining clothes would be left in the ruined dresser. The acrid odor left by the smoke would never come out.
Abraham put the car in gear and drove back to the hotel and his son. Tomorrow the devil would go to work. "It will be his last day," Abraham vowed.