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Breaking Point Part 2
Katie felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, suddenly sucked from the room. "When? How?"
"At the training fire ... controlled burn. Smoke. Got him. Overcome."
"How could that happen? Don't they ... control those fires...for training? ... so they'll be ... safe?"
Rick laughed, a cold humorless laugh. "Safe?? Fire ... isn't safe. Fire is fire...flames are flames ... smoke is smoke." He remembered how Steve had said if he ever died in the line of duty, they could say he died doing what he loved, saving lives and property. Now Rick felt that he had been cheated of his hero status, as odd as that sounded. And he felt guilty for thinking it would have been more fair if Steve had died in a real alarm. It shouldn't matter how he died. Fire was fire ... smoke was smoke ... dead was dead. "I want to be alone, Kate."
"Let me be here for you, with you. I'm your wife, you just lost your best friend, you shouldn't be alone."
"I need to be alone".
He could see she was hurt again. She walked away, and Rick sat in the dark, feeling more alone than ever. Steve ... why the hell did you go and do this? He waited for the tears to come, for the hurt feelings to come, the rage, the fear, the anguish...but the feelings didn't come. The tears didn't come. He didn't think they ever would again. He felt nothing...nothing at all ... just numb ... empty. And alone. Very, very alone.
********************************
They urged Rick to take some time off, but he wasn't about to. Didn't need to. He needed to work. They watched him very closely for signs that would force them to pull him off duty, but he was a model firefighter and EMT ... driven, professional, doing everything exactly as he was trained, accurate decisions, strong direction, wise judgments...like a machine. Although he was distant and humorless, and rumor had it his wife had left him, they could find no fault in the performance of his duties. Eventually, they stopped watching him so close, and just accepted that he was paid to work, not to be sociable. It was his right to keep to himself. They settled back into the normal routine ... minus Steve. Rick continued to work with the dead and the dying, the rescued and the saved. All the same, doing his duty ... like a machine.
********************************
The flames were reaching high into the night sky when they arrived. The heavens were teasing them, raining down in drops that hissed and disappeared into white-gray steam before reaching the flames. Open up that sky...pour buckets...help us out. As soon as they leaped from the truck a woman broke free of the people trying to hold her back. She grabbed the front of Rick's coat with both hands. "You've GOT to get my daughter out!!! She's still inside...she's only four...PLEASE..." Rick was able to pull her hands away from his coat easier than he could pull his eyes away from the desperation in her eyes. He gave her a curt nod, adjusted his equipment and went inside.
The smoke was dense, his powerful flashlight was useless. The heat rolled over him and around him in waves. He was told she would be in the upstairs bedroom, to the right of the stairs. He moved quickly to the stairs and took them two at a time, testing them as he went. His feet were suddenly caught up, he fell headlong up the stairs, the flashlight flying from his hand, his mask hitting the edge of the step, biting his tongue, tasting salty blood in his mouth. He felt along by his feet in the inky dark to see what he had fallen over ... it was the child ... here, lying on the stairs. She must have fallen down the stairs running from the fire. Two other firemen could not see him lying there, as they went up the stairs beside him, he reached out and grabbed at one of them, tugging the back of his coat. He knelt down and Rick motioned towards his feet, all the while getting into a position to pick the child up. The firemen felt the child's form, nodded understanding. The other fireman had continued up the stairs, but was driven back by the intense heat and the wall of fire at the top, he hesitated, and continued up. Rick knew he would have done the same: Walked through that wall of fire to save a child. He knew the other fireman would call him back, and he hurried down the stairs with the child in his arms.
When he came out he was vaguely aware of the screams of the mother, and the police and neighbors holding her back. Rick concentrated on what he had to do. He laid the little girl down, and began to breathe for her, sealing his mouth around her tiny mouth and nose, chest compressions, one thousand one...one thousand two... The other two firemen stood behind him now. Why aren't they helping? It's easier with two. Why aren't they helping? The fireman who's coat he had tugged on at the stairs took Rick by both shoulders and tried to pull him away from the girl. "She's gone... Rick ... stop ... she's gone." Rick shot his arm out and pushed him away, catching the younger man in the jaw. "Help me dammit!" Rick spat out, as he continued to work on the girl. Why aren't they helping? The unintentional blow knocked the young fireman over. He got up quickly, glancing around. Few occupations perform their duties under public and media scrutiny, this doesn't look good he thought to himself. The other fireman wrapped his arms around Rick from behind, so he couldn't strike back, and said in a steady voice directly in to
Rick's ear "She's gone. Look at her neck. She was gone when you brought her out. You did everything you could, but she's gone." He felt Rick go slack against his arms. In the background, the wails of the mother were more piercing than any siren, more mournful than any other cry.
Rick stood up, took off his helmet and held it in his hands. Looking down at the child ... most of her hair had been singed away, and stuck out in odd tufts, her face was shiny, unnaturally pale against patches of angry red, her head was almost at a right angle to her body, cheek against shoulder, her unblinking eyes stared at the sky, unaware of the raindrops splashing on her face, her mouth was a perfect little rose bud. Her arm was bent with one hand near her cheek, tiny perfect little fingers curling towards her cherub like face. She was beautiful. Even now ... a beautiful, perfect, broken doll. He knew he would forever see this little face. But what he saw looking down at her was not just this face, but the faces of so many others ... so many lives cut short, so many lives he couldn't save.
He looked up at the two men with him. They looked surreal, smokey faces with the flashing red lights playing across them, the stripes on their turnout coats glowing eerily in the rainy night. Rick let his helmet fall from his hands, where it clattered and spun on the driveway, settling next to the little girl's head. To no one in particular, Rick said "I can't do this anymore."
He walked down the driveway past the trucks, expertly stepping around the tangle of hoses snaking across the yard, continuing down the street, taking off his coat and letting it drop behind him. "Where the hell is he going?" someone asked. "Just let him go." They watched him fade into the night, until all they could see was the flash of iridescence from the stripes on his turnout pants, and then that too faded into the darkness. Rick was gone.
********************************
e p i l o g u e
No one knows where Rick went that night. The following morning, unshaven and disheveled, he appeared on the door step of Steve's widow. When she opened the door, he said only "I miss Steve, and I'm mad as hell that he's dead." She understood exactly what he felt. And finally, Rick's tears came.
Rick took other jobs, he stayed away from firefighting for eight years, and then one day decided to get re-certified and return. He said it was a part of him. He is still a firefighter today. He and Katie divorced, a casualty of the job. They remain close friends, and he sees his daughter often. Rick recently remarried.
How many broken, crushed, burned and shattered people do you see before you break down? And yet, Rick did not go down to irreversible depths of despair as some do. I wonder, sometimes ... if one believes in guardian angels ... if there are more than one assigned to firefighters, if the souls of the people they tried so hard to save watch over them. Perhaps when Rick began spiraling down into his personal Hell, he was able to come back because an angel, with blossom-scented hair and blue-gray eyes, protected him from staying in that Hell. Perhaps ... her soul at peace, knowing he did all he could to save her, knowing her child was alive because of men like him ... she returned the favor by leading him back to a place where he could sleep dreamless sleep again, love again, feel again.
I guess we'll never know.
********************************
May all your angels keep you safe,
~~ Kalvere ~~
(c) 1999 Copyrighted to the author, Kalvere. Please do not reproduce in any form without permission from the author. Kalvere is from Minnesota, and would welcome any comments at the following email address: Kal The Rebel @ aol.com
I have the author’s permission to use this story. Please do not forward in emails.
Submitted by Richard
Katie felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, suddenly sucked from the room. "When? How?"
"At the training fire ... controlled burn. Smoke. Got him. Overcome."
"How could that happen? Don't they ... control those fires...for training? ... so they'll be ... safe?"
Rick laughed, a cold humorless laugh. "Safe?? Fire ... isn't safe. Fire is fire...flames are flames ... smoke is smoke." He remembered how Steve had said if he ever died in the line of duty, they could say he died doing what he loved, saving lives and property. Now Rick felt that he had been cheated of his hero status, as odd as that sounded. And he felt guilty for thinking it would have been more fair if Steve had died in a real alarm. It shouldn't matter how he died. Fire was fire ... smoke was smoke ... dead was dead. "I want to be alone, Kate."
"Let me be here for you, with you. I'm your wife, you just lost your best friend, you shouldn't be alone."
"I need to be alone".
He could see she was hurt again. She walked away, and Rick sat in the dark, feeling more alone than ever. Steve ... why the hell did you go and do this? He waited for the tears to come, for the hurt feelings to come, the rage, the fear, the anguish...but the feelings didn't come. The tears didn't come. He didn't think they ever would again. He felt nothing...nothing at all ... just numb ... empty. And alone. Very, very alone.
********************************
They urged Rick to take some time off, but he wasn't about to. Didn't need to. He needed to work. They watched him very closely for signs that would force them to pull him off duty, but he was a model firefighter and EMT ... driven, professional, doing everything exactly as he was trained, accurate decisions, strong direction, wise judgments...like a machine. Although he was distant and humorless, and rumor had it his wife had left him, they could find no fault in the performance of his duties. Eventually, they stopped watching him so close, and just accepted that he was paid to work, not to be sociable. It was his right to keep to himself. They settled back into the normal routine ... minus Steve. Rick continued to work with the dead and the dying, the rescued and the saved. All the same, doing his duty ... like a machine.
********************************
The flames were reaching high into the night sky when they arrived. The heavens were teasing them, raining down in drops that hissed and disappeared into white-gray steam before reaching the flames. Open up that sky...pour buckets...help us out. As soon as they leaped from the truck a woman broke free of the people trying to hold her back. She grabbed the front of Rick's coat with both hands. "You've GOT to get my daughter out!!! She's still inside...she's only four...PLEASE..." Rick was able to pull her hands away from his coat easier than he could pull his eyes away from the desperation in her eyes. He gave her a curt nod, adjusted his equipment and went inside.
The smoke was dense, his powerful flashlight was useless. The heat rolled over him and around him in waves. He was told she would be in the upstairs bedroom, to the right of the stairs. He moved quickly to the stairs and took them two at a time, testing them as he went. His feet were suddenly caught up, he fell headlong up the stairs, the flashlight flying from his hand, his mask hitting the edge of the step, biting his tongue, tasting salty blood in his mouth. He felt along by his feet in the inky dark to see what he had fallen over ... it was the child ... here, lying on the stairs. She must have fallen down the stairs running from the fire. Two other firemen could not see him lying there, as they went up the stairs beside him, he reached out and grabbed at one of them, tugging the back of his coat. He knelt down and Rick motioned towards his feet, all the while getting into a position to pick the child up. The firemen felt the child's form, nodded understanding. The other fireman had continued up the stairs, but was driven back by the intense heat and the wall of fire at the top, he hesitated, and continued up. Rick knew he would have done the same: Walked through that wall of fire to save a child. He knew the other fireman would call him back, and he hurried down the stairs with the child in his arms.
When he came out he was vaguely aware of the screams of the mother, and the police and neighbors holding her back. Rick concentrated on what he had to do. He laid the little girl down, and began to breathe for her, sealing his mouth around her tiny mouth and nose, chest compressions, one thousand one...one thousand two... The other two firemen stood behind him now. Why aren't they helping? It's easier with two. Why aren't they helping? The fireman who's coat he had tugged on at the stairs took Rick by both shoulders and tried to pull him away from the girl. "She's gone... Rick ... stop ... she's gone." Rick shot his arm out and pushed him away, catching the younger man in the jaw. "Help me dammit!" Rick spat out, as he continued to work on the girl. Why aren't they helping? The unintentional blow knocked the young fireman over. He got up quickly, glancing around. Few occupations perform their duties under public and media scrutiny, this doesn't look good he thought to himself. The other fireman wrapped his arms around Rick from behind, so he couldn't strike back, and said in a steady voice directly in to
Rick's ear "She's gone. Look at her neck. She was gone when you brought her out. You did everything you could, but she's gone." He felt Rick go slack against his arms. In the background, the wails of the mother were more piercing than any siren, more mournful than any other cry.
Rick stood up, took off his helmet and held it in his hands. Looking down at the child ... most of her hair had been singed away, and stuck out in odd tufts, her face was shiny, unnaturally pale against patches of angry red, her head was almost at a right angle to her body, cheek against shoulder, her unblinking eyes stared at the sky, unaware of the raindrops splashing on her face, her mouth was a perfect little rose bud. Her arm was bent with one hand near her cheek, tiny perfect little fingers curling towards her cherub like face. She was beautiful. Even now ... a beautiful, perfect, broken doll. He knew he would forever see this little face. But what he saw looking down at her was not just this face, but the faces of so many others ... so many lives cut short, so many lives he couldn't save.
He looked up at the two men with him. They looked surreal, smokey faces with the flashing red lights playing across them, the stripes on their turnout coats glowing eerily in the rainy night. Rick let his helmet fall from his hands, where it clattered and spun on the driveway, settling next to the little girl's head. To no one in particular, Rick said "I can't do this anymore."
He walked down the driveway past the trucks, expertly stepping around the tangle of hoses snaking across the yard, continuing down the street, taking off his coat and letting it drop behind him. "Where the hell is he going?" someone asked. "Just let him go." They watched him fade into the night, until all they could see was the flash of iridescence from the stripes on his turnout pants, and then that too faded into the darkness. Rick was gone.
********************************
e p i l o g u e
No one knows where Rick went that night. The following morning, unshaven and disheveled, he appeared on the door step of Steve's widow. When she opened the door, he said only "I miss Steve, and I'm mad as hell that he's dead." She understood exactly what he felt. And finally, Rick's tears came.
Rick took other jobs, he stayed away from firefighting for eight years, and then one day decided to get re-certified and return. He said it was a part of him. He is still a firefighter today. He and Katie divorced, a casualty of the job. They remain close friends, and he sees his daughter often. Rick recently remarried.
How many broken, crushed, burned and shattered people do you see before you break down? And yet, Rick did not go down to irreversible depths of despair as some do. I wonder, sometimes ... if one believes in guardian angels ... if there are more than one assigned to firefighters, if the souls of the people they tried so hard to save watch over them. Perhaps when Rick began spiraling down into his personal Hell, he was able to come back because an angel, with blossom-scented hair and blue-gray eyes, protected him from staying in that Hell. Perhaps ... her soul at peace, knowing he did all he could to save her, knowing her child was alive because of men like him ... she returned the favor by leading him back to a place where he could sleep dreamless sleep again, love again, feel again.
I guess we'll never know.
********************************
May all your angels keep you safe,
~~ Kalvere ~~
(c) 1999 Copyrighted to the author, Kalvere. Please do not reproduce in any form without permission from the author. Kalvere is from Minnesota, and would welcome any comments at the following email address: Kal The Rebel @ aol.com
I have the author’s permission to use this story. Please do not forward in emails.
Submitted by Richard
