PLEASE NOTE: Names and places and certain facts have been altered to protect the privacy of the firefighter's families. This story is copyrighted to Kalvere, "Kal the Rebel" Please do not reproduce without author's permission.  Kalvere, the author, is from Minnesota and would welcome any comments at the following email address: [email protected].

 

DARRIN'S SHIFT

The fire was perfect. The little boys, Josh and Tyler, loved holding their marshmallows over it on long sticks, letting them burst into little fireballs, then quickly blowing them out. Their father, Dan, watched their antics and smiled. He thought of the years they waited to have a child, and then were blessed with two in a row, less than 11 months apart. He knew he was a very lucky man -- to have this family, this home in this nice area, and now he was starting his own contracting business. When the phone rang, he knew it would be his foreman calling, setting things up for the job site.

He took the boy's sticks, and told them no more marshmallows till he returned. He talked to his foreman on the phone in the kitchen, while watching the kids out the window, rolling around in a mock wrestling match. He smiled, again.... He found himself smiling a lot.

When the fire began to dim, Josh looked at Tyler, and they looked toward the house to see if their dad was on his way back. They could see him through the window, still on the phone. Josh said he knew what to do... he saw the red can... he had seen dad use it many times to get the fire going again. Wouldn't dad be proud that he didn't let it go out? Wouldn't he say he was a big boy to have learned by watching him?

Tyler, though, was wary. They weren't supposed to go near the fire. But, he didn't want it to go out, either. Maybe dad would be mad if they let it go out. Maybe he would think it was good of them to keep it going.

Josh tried to shake the liquid from the can, but there was nothing coming out of the little rubber tube attached, so he unscrewed it. He went over and stood with the can above the dying fire, and turned it upside down....

Dan had the floor plans spread out on the table. He was running his finger along the section he and the foreman were discussing, when he heard and felt the Whhuumpp! that rattled the windows. He spun to the window, and saw flames reaching high into the morning sky. His eyes scanned the yard for the boys. What happened? Where are they? Part of his mind registered that the fire had spread to two smaller fires... moving across the grass. Part of his mind knew....

He dropped the phone, crashed through the patio screen door, jumped over the railing of the deck... falling down to one knee... up again... running... running.... He reached the first little fireball and knocked him down, rolled him, slapped the flames with his hands. Then, the second.

A neighbor ran over with his phone in his hand, "I called 911.... Oh.... Dear, God...."

Dan collapsed in tears, stroking the hand of his littlest son. Smelling the burnt flesh. Part of his mind knew his life would never be the same. Part of his mind began to shut down. When the firefighters arrived, they found two badly burned little boys in the grass, one frantic neighbor with a phone in his hand, and one anguished father deep in shock.

Paul and Darrin were first on scene. Paul started working on the older boy, as Darrin took charge of the youngest boy. He had no face, no ears, no lips. He tried to find a place to put the needle, to get fluids into him. He talked to him non-stop, trying to keep him calm, trying to keep him from slipping into shock.

"I'm here, I'll stay with you.... You're such a brave boy. I'm just going to cover you with this... this won't hurt at all.... I'm Darrin, what's your name?"

Darrin got in the back of the ambulance, beside the boy, holding the IV bag and breathing apparatus. Talking to him the whole time. Shouting to Paul behind the wheel, "Let's go! Let's move!" The boy was slipping away. He grasped Darrin's hand. Darrin leaned down to hear his raspy voice, the boy said "Ty... ler... is my... name." Darrin smiled down at him, "Hi Tyler...Hang on to me, Buddy."

When they arrived at the hospital, Darrin crashed through the ER doors with the gurney, shouting out vitals. He ran alongside, with the boy still clinging to his hand, until the nurses peeled his little fingers away from Darrin's hand and said, "We've got him."

When they took him away down the hall, he stood and watched until he disappeared through the swinging double doors at the end. Judy, a nurse he knew well, asked him if he was okay. Darrin said, "I'm fine. I meant to tell them.... His name is Tyler."

Back at the station, Darrin phoned his wife Mary at home. "I was just thinking of you... you and the boys.... What are they doing?" He could hear them in the background -- his sons, Joey and Tony.

Mary answered "They're driving me crazy!"

Darrin smiled, "That's good.... That's good. I miss you."

It was 10:00 AM. The campfire call was the first call of a 24-hour shift that started at 8AM. Darrin hadn't been away from home very long yet. Mary never knew what exactly prompted these sporadic calls from Darrin, but she liked them. They never said much, but she liked the connection with him when he was at the station. She missed him. She worried about him.

Darrin was, above all else, a family man, deeply devoted to his wife and sons. Joey was 7, Tony was 5. Joey had been to the station many times, putting on the oversized boots and helmet.... He was all set to follow in dad's footsteps. That fatherly part of Darrin was what he drew strength from when dealing with frightened injured children. He had been a Firefighter for 10 years, it was a part of who he was. He was a calm, logical thinker in the most un-calm, illogical of situations.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The call was to a head-on crash. The driver's side of the smaller car was totally obliterated. Muffled screams came from the passenger side. They quickly divided into teams among the two cars, knowing time was of the essence... wondering if there was any time left.

Darrin wedged himself as far as he could into the smaller, smashed car to get a read on the occupants.... How many... how bad. The woman was grimacing in pain, and looked at him with panic filled eyes. "My husband... I need my husband...."

Darrin looked over at Paul, on the driver's side of the car. He met Darrin's eyes and shook his head, in answer to the unspoken question. There was no hope for the driver. He said to the woman, "Someone else is with your husband.... I can't see him from here." This was the truth.... The kind of truth you tell people when you can't tell them the truth right then.

She grimaced, again. Darrin said, "Tell me what's hurting...."

She stared at him and said, "Oh, God... I need... Eric... I need my husband...."

He twisted his body to see into the car at a different angle. The dash was pushed forward all the way into her lap, pinning her legs completely. There was no way to get her legs out without a lot of dismantling of the car, that would take a lot of time... and meanwhile, her legs were probably not getting any circulation. Then, he noticed something else... and then he understood her pain.

He pushed himself out and straightened up. He got the attention of the crew around the car with a sharp, "Gentlemen!!" They paused at their tasks, confused, and looked at him... waiting... thinking he would say it was all too late. He said, "Gentlemen... we're having a baby!" There was a stunned delay while they absorbed this news, and then they went about their work with a renewed sense of urgency. Darrin conferred with the ceither. He tried to get her to focus on helping them to help her. The entire crew could concentrate on freeing her now -- the occupants of the other car, a man and a woman, were beyond help. She was the only survivor of the crash.

A young police officer ran up to them, radio in hand, "They're bringing in LifeFlight, landing at the end of the bridge." Darrin told him, "Be sure they know we have a woman in labor. There'll be two patients...."

The cop looked shocked, peered into the car. "Damn...!" The cop turned away, talking rapidly into the radio.

Darrin scraped his arms and twisted his back, wedging himself into a position to catch the baby in a space not even big enough for his arm to fit. The crew worked like a well-oiled machine, silent unless calling out when they needed help, what was secured, what was accomplished. Running lines into her, running equipment all around her. She was screaming, the pain of her injuries adding to the pain of delivering a baby through her broken pelvic bones. But somehow... in a crash that had taken three lives, one life was granted.

Darrin maneuvered himself out of the torn apart car, with a tiny baby screaming in his arms. He yelled to the woman, "It's a boy! It's a boy!" She cried.... The baby cried... And, the rescue workers tried to pretend they weren't crying.

As they wheeled her to the waiting helicopter, she gripped Darrin's arm. "Tell me... tell me the truth... please?" Darrin said he would tell her the truth, if he knew the answer. She asked, "Eric... my husband... is he dead?"

Darrin looked directly into her eyes, laying his hand on her hand, "Yes... but I don't think he ever left here. I think he coached you. I think he is here now with you.... Can you feel him?" He saw a pain in her eyes that went beyond her physical pain.

She asked him, "What is your name?" and when he told her, just before they loaded her into the chopper, she looked at the baby and said, "I'm going to name him Eric Darrin."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The call was vague... "child trapped." Hard to prepare, equipment, or mentally, with so little information. The woman who called was on a cell phone. Dispatch heard, "child trapped," and "her arm is caught." They knew nothing else, beyond the address. The phone had cut out.

Michael drove the rescue van, Larry rode beside him. They were a good team. Michael was proud to work with someone of Larry's experience. He was a big, boisterous man, with an infectious grin and an upbeat attitude. But now, he was looking serious, imagining all the possibilities they might be coming up against.

When they arrived at the home, a woman answered the door with a sheepish look on her face. "Thank you for coming, I just wasn't sure what else to do."

They followed her down the hall, to the bathroom, where a sobbing little girl had her arm inside the toilet bowl, stuck almost up to her shoulder. Larry and Michael looked at each other and smiled.

Larry sat right down cross-legged on the floor, eye level with the little girl. "Wanted to see where the water went, did ya?" The girl nodded her tear-streaked face.

Michael asked the mother if she had any cooking oil. She nodded her head towards a bottle on the sink. "I tried that. I tried everything."

Larry told Michael to hand it to him, "I have some of that 'special fireman oil additive.'" The girl looked at him with interest, intently watching Larry take a small white plastic bottle from his pocket, and make a show of "adding" it to the bottle of oil.

Larry knew that the child was tensed up, probably involuntarily had her hand in a fist. Whenever the mom tried to pull her arm out, the anticipation of pain would cause her to scream and tense up more. The mom, not being able to bear causing pain to her daughter, would stop. Larry knew if he could get her distracted and relaxed, she'd relax the arm and the fist, and Michael could probably maneuver her arm out. Plan B of course, would work too, but would do some damage to the toilet fixture!

Larry explained that there were magic ingredients in the oil now, while Michael rubbed it down her arm. At the same time he was feeling the angles of her arm, trying to picture how it was turned inside the hole. Larry talked to her, keeping a steady stream of banter and keeping her eyes on him, not on her arm. Michael got it out to the elbow, when the girl screamed in pain.

The mother jumped. Michael stopped. Larry just kept talking.

"That only felt funny, it didn't really hurt did it?"

Larry continued where he and the child had left off. The mother was getting frustrated, told them she didn't care if they smashed the toilet, just get her out. But they knew there were risks involved, and hoped to avoid that scenario. The mother's frustration caused the girl to tense up again. Larry got the girl calmed back down. At one point, she asked him why he had a helmet on in the house.

Larry laughed, "I must look silly with a helmet on in the bathroom!" The little girl laughed, and at that moment, Michael got the rest of her arm out.

When they were leaving, Larry tipped his hat to the mom, and said, "So...Mom... where does the water go?" Just as he walked out the door, he heard the daughter asking her to 'splain it to her.

He and Michael laughed all the way back to the station. "So, what's the magic oil additive?" Michael asked.

Larry took the white bottle out of his pocket, "Tylenol!"

Michael told him he should have given it to the mother. Then Michael asked arcastically, "So, you think this story will make the front page?"

Larry replied, "Oh, Hell, yeah! I was damn heroic. I think I lost all feeling in my legs sitting on the floor like that, that's gotta count for something!"

They rode in silence for a while, smiling to themselves. Then Larry asked, with that infectious grin, "But Michael, seriously.... Where does the water go?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Darrin had brought in a heart attack patient to the ER. While they were there, Darrin saw his nurse friend, Judy. He asked her about the two burned boys from that morning's first call. They would survive, but had a long road to recovery ahead, and would be disfigured.

He asked her about the baby that LifeFlight had brought in, from the head-on crash. Judy brightened, "That baby is an absolute miracle, he's feisty! He's doing great!"

Darrin smiled, "What about the mom? Can they save her legs?" Judy looked confused. Darrin repeated "The baby's mother, from the crash, her legs were pretty badly crushed."

Judy's eyes slid back and forth between Darrin and an older couple who were walking towards them, clinging to each other. She touched Darrin's arm, while still looking at the couple, and told him, "The baby's mother was DOA. She died in flight."

The older couple approached them, holding tightly to each other, and looked worn and gray, as if they carried all the troubles of the world. The woman said to Judy, "We had to make some calls.... May we see him, again?"

Judy answered in her gentle way, "Of course, you can see him. He's yours."

She turned to Darrin, "This is Roger and Dea. The woman you were asking me about, who had the baby.... These are her parents." She turned back to the couple, "Darrin delivered the baby at the accident scene."

The father, Roger, reached out to shake Darrin's hand, saying, "Thank you, sir. Thank you for saving our grandson.... I only wish...." His eyes filled with tears.

Darrin shook his hand, "I'm... so sorry ... for your loss." He was caught off guard, and didn't know what to say. Why are you thanking me? I couldn't save your daughter.

The woman looked at the man as if prompting him, and he nodded slightly, asking Darrin, "Could you tell us...? We wondered... did she get to see her baby... before she...."

He was unable to finish the sentence.

Darrin told him, "Yes, she was awake and alert... and pain free... while the baby was delivered. She saw him, she touched him.... She even told me what his name was going to be."

The couple looked at each other. Darrin could see this seemed to bring some tiny measure of comfort to them. Roger, the father, spoke again, "She named him? Please... do you remember what she said?"

"Yes," Darrin answered, "she named the baby Eric...." He looked at the father's eyes, and said, "Eric Roger. She named him Eric Roger."

As Darrin walked away, he thought the woman wouldn't mind that he had given the baby a different middle name. He wished he could tell her, and tell her he was sorry he didn't save her. Then he realized, he didn't even know the woman's name. He probably never would.

It was 8PM, Darrin's shift was half over.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The call was to a multi-vehicle crash. Michael and Larry were called out first. Darrin and Paul were standing-by -- it was a sure thing they'd be calling for more help.

As Michael raced to the scene, a car came out of a side street... it never slowed down. He hit the brakes, turned to the right to avoid it, but the car had the same reaction, and turned to the right at the same time, it was still in his path. He saw the driver for an instant in a blur of long, brown hair. Then, directly in his line of sight, was the back seat window behind the driver, with a terrified little boy with eyes as huge as saucers, mouth open in an "O" in a silent scream, staring out at Michael. Michael cranked the wheel hard to the left, pumping the brakes.

"Hang on!"

He knew he would throw it in the ditch, lose control, and still hit the car. He just hoped against all hope that he wouldn't hit directly where this little boy was strapped securely into his seat.

The rescue van hit... climbed partway up the car -- they were almost airborne for a moment, both front wheels completely off the ground. Then, they began to tip, slammed down on the passenger side, and continued to roll. The car spun away. Michael had two questions go through his mind, Did I kill that little boy? and Why is the world suddenly upside down and spinning?

He felt a weight fall on top of him. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was a blur of red and white -- the light bar from the top of the rescue vehicle cartwheeling end-over-end down the street, leaving a trail of tiny bits of red and white.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Moments later, Darrin got the call to the multi-MVA scene. He was already on the road before he learned he was not additional help, but that he was replacing Rescue 12, which never made it there. He tried to find out if Michael and Larry were all right, but there was no information available. He had to put it out of his mind, and concentrate on the work to be done.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Michael opened his eyes and saw fragments of light. The windshield was a spider web of cracks, bulging inward. He was aware of a sharp edge cutting into his cheek, and fragments of light flickering in his eyes. He thought he could push out the windshield and crawl out, but when he tried to stretch towards it, blinding pain shot up and down his back. He felt like he was drifting in a fog -- everything looked fuzzy around the edges. He tried to clear his mind. His cheek was resting on the edge of the roof-mounted radio -- the van had come to rest upside down. He could see his arm beneath his head, but couldn't move it or feel it.

Then, he slowly realized it was Larry's arm he was laying on. "Larry? Larry, you okay, buddy...? Larry? Can you hear me?" If he looked down, he could see Larry's leg draped across his own. They had been thrown together like two discarded rag dolls.

He felt the coiled cord of the radio and started dragging the hand mic to his face. Have to... call it in.... What's the code? What's my location?... God... I can't remember.... Where was I going?

He started talking weakly into the mic, "... We're... down... we crashed... we're down... hello??" He heard a woman's voice, sounding very far away.

"Rescue 12? It was called in, we have help coming for you. Rescue 12, what is your condition?"

Rescue 12... is that me? Am I Rescue 12? "My back... Larry doesn't talk, he doesn't move... he needs help...."

The woman's voice again, "We have help on the way, hang on. Just a few minutes, they'll be there. Can you tell me more about Larry's condition?"

He tried to place the voice, he thought he had heard it before, he wasn't sure. The fog was closing in, again. He said, "Larry is behind me.... I can't see him, I can't turn my head.... He needs help."

The woman continued to assure him they would be helped soon. And soon, he heard pounding on the van, and voices calling his name, telling him to stay back from the windshield. He heard noises, something shattering, then beams of light played across his eyes. He saw dark shapes reaching for him, heard voices talking to him. He knew these voices... but he couldn't think of how he knew them, or who they were. He said to them, "Larry is behind me."

He closed his eyes and let himself relax... let the fog roll in... help was here. They were strapping his head to a back board when he remembered... his eyes snapped open, he reached up and grabbed the sleeve of the man who was strapping him down, "Hey... there was a little boy.... We hit a car.... There was a boy...."

He looked at the helmeted face above him, he knew him... who was he? He searched the man's eyes. The eyes were kind and concerned. He answered, "There was a woman and a boy, Michael, and they're both okay." He continued to stare at his eyes, looking for a sign that he was holding something back, the man seemed to know that's what he was doing. "They're okay, Michael, really. I promise. Minor injuries... fractured arm, lacerations, contusions.... Things like that. They'll both be fine."

He knows my name... I know him... Why can't I remember? He looked in his eyes again, still gripping his sleeve, "What about Larry?"

The man finished strapping him in, his face a grim mask. He answered, with his eyes averted, "I don't know." Then, he looked away.

He knew.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The scene looked like a war zone. A car carrier had jackknifed, then tipped, spilling the top row of cars. Unsuspecting motorists suddenly found shiny, new, driverless cars in their paths. They zig-zagged across the road to avoid hitting the truck, or the cars, and hit other cars. One small white car was crushed beneath the car carrier itself, with only the back rear corner was visible. The red of the tail light had broken out, but somehow the blinker kept blinking. A tiny white beacon. A blue car, still on the carrier, was poised above the white car, held only by a chain. They had to secure that blue car, and the tipped carrier, before they could safely work on the occupants of the white car.

It was 5AM, dawn. The sun was rising. The pink glow of the early light made the scene even more eerie. Darrin had just 3 more hours to his shift, and he would be home with Mary and the boys. But, he couldn't think about that now.

The firefighters and rescue personnel started running with equipment to the scene, sorting out the driverless cars from those with victims. Darrin and Paul each had an end of a gurney, wheeling it over the uneven pavement. They had to maneuver around a body lying on the edge of the road...a nubby gray blanket had been thrown over the victim, only his feet stuck out from underneath. Black shoes...Darrin noticed the size of the shape under the banket...small...it had to be a child. Yellow paint.... He hated when there were young children involved.

Black shoes... yellow paint... was going through Darrin's mind. Darrin froze. He turned slowly around, and focused on the shoes. Black Nike's, with a spot of bright yellow paint on the right toe. He dropped his end of the gurney, and walked over to the blanket-covered body. Paul watched, perplexed. "Darrin? What gives?" Darrin kneeled down and hesitated for a moment, then threw back the blanket. Joey... Joey ... Joey... Paul wracked his brain, going through every training drill he had ever had. Nothing prepared him for this. He didn't know what to do. He stood helplessly while Darrin gently slid his hand under the boy's head, lifting him up to cradle him to his chest, slowly rocking back and forth, whispering, "Joey... Daddy's here... Daddy's here... Joey... Joey...."

Paul looked around, wondering who he should get, what he should do. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and saw Darrin was running toward the road, his eyes locked on the crushed white car, the flashing blinker. "Mary!! Mary.... Tony.... " Paul tackled him, tried to force him back, he was dragging Paul with him now. "NO! Let us get her, stay with Joey, don't go there. Darrin. Please... we'll get them... don't go there...!"

Darrin's eyes were wide and wild. Paul feared what Darrin might see if he got up to the car. "Please... stop... Darrin...." Darrin shook Paul off, ran to the car, ducked under the cable they were securing to the carrier. Someone yelled, "Get the hell back ...what is he doing?" Darrin tried to pull the twisted metal free with his hands, cutting his fingers, pounding his fist on the window, trying to open the door... screaming, "Mary.... Tony.... Mary...."

It was dawning on Darrin's coworkers what was happening. It was all they could do to keep from rushing to the car before it was secured. They felt helpless. Paul and another firefighter pulled Darrin away from the car. Paul told one of the cops, "Take him back over there..." pointing towards the boy lying with the blanket thrown off of him.

The cop looked horrified. "What the hell...?"

Paul answered over his shoulder, as he ran to the white car, "It's his son."

The cop dropped his head down, "Oh, sweet Jesus."

He led Darrin back to where Joey lay, and knelt beside him, talking slow and calm. Darrin sat by Joey while he stared at the flashing blinker of the white car, his eyes a mixture of pleading and pain.

When he had learned that the woman with the baby hadn't made it, he felt like a failure as a rescue worker. Now, he felt like a failure as a father and husband.... He had failed to keep his family safe... failed to raise his son to adulthood... failed to be there when they needed him most. He looked down at the still form of his son, Joey... Joey... Joey....

He remembered finding Joey in the workroom just a few short days ago, deep in concentration, painting a little red matchbox firetruck with yellow paint. The station Darrin worked at had yellow trucks. He spilled the paint, and it spattered down the work bench, and onto his brand new shoes. Darrin was angry, until he saw the crocodile tears welling up in Joey's eyes.

Instead of reprimanding him, he picked up the paint and said, "I think there's still enough to finish the truck."

The look in Joey's eyes was such that Darrin hugged him. They worked on the truck together, smiling. It was a happy memory. For some reason, that suddenly seemed so important now. He took a very small measure of comfort knowing he had not gotten angry about the spilled paint, and made that into a happy time for Joey.

Now that he knew Joey had no more happy times left.

He watched now as they worked on the car, thinking he should be there, he should be the one helping Mary and Tony. He thought of Mary's voice on the phone... was that just the morning before? Still this same shift? He thought of Tony's impish grin, his quiet little voice.

He willed them to live, he pleaded with God, Please don't take them all... You have my Joey... don't take them all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

At the hospital, he watched them whisk Tony down the hall, through the double doors at the end. He had an odd feeling of having been here before, in this spot, watching this scene. Then he remembered the little boy from the campfire. But this was his Tony. He looked so small, so still, so broken. I'll take the long road to recovery.... I'll take him disfigured.... I'll take him crippled.... I'll take him anyway at all, just let me keep him.... Please... God, let me keep my son.

He waited at the end of the hall, staring at the floor, pacing up and down. He was vaguely aware that he was surrounded by his fellow firefighters. He tried to acknowledge their words of comfort, but he couldn't. The multi-MVA brought a lot of activity to the hospital, but Darrin didn't notice.

He overheard talk about Michael and Larry. Michael had severe head trauma.... Larry hadn't made it. He wanted to feel something, but he was numb.

The doctor came walking out of the room at the end of the hall. Too soon...! He was out too soon! Judy was with him. They walked towards Darrin with solemn faces. Darrin cried out, "NO! Don't tell me.... I don't want to know."

They had to tell him that Tony was gone. They gently asked about organ donation, for both boys. Darrin didn't know what to say, "I have to talk to my wife.... My wife... Oh, God. Yes, okay, take them... Can I see my son? I want to see Tony."

He walked into the darkened room. All the tubes had been disconnected, all the machines were silent. Tony lay with the sheet up to his neck. Darrin put his hand beneath his head, cringing when he felt the bones shift. He cradled him against his chest, "Tony... Tony... Daddy's here... Daddy's here...."

Darrin sat beside his wife. He told her everything he wanted to say, what she meant to him, how he loved her, how she made him whole. He was sure she could hear him. He told her to hold on, he needed her. He wasn't sure he should tell her that the boys were gone. He just said that they loved her very much. He squeezed her hand, imagining that she was squeezing back. He begged her not to leave him. But when she flat-lined...he told her that he understood. She was a mother, she needed to be with her children. He asked her to give them a kiss for him. He kissed her cheek.

It was 8AM when the light went out of his life.

The end of Darrin's shift.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

When he walked out of the room, he saw a sea of concerned faces, dark blue shirts, yellow turnouts. He wanted them to go away, leave him alone. They reached out to him. He pushed them away. "I need to be alone, just let me be alone."

At first they started to comply, but Paul said "No." He stood in front of Darrin, and said , "You aren't alone, we're your family. You'll never be alone." Darrin collapsed forward, and Paul caught him. He wrapped his arms around him and held him.

They surrounded him, touched him, just let him know they were there.

They let him know he would never be alone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Lawsuit

The woman who was involved in the accident with the rescue van decided to sue Michael and the Department, saying he failed to use proper safety precautions. She claimed he caused the accident, causing her car to be totaled, injuries to her and her son, and severe mental trauma to her son, who still had nightmares. Nightmares... Michael thought, I know all about nightmares. Although he was certain he was not the cause of the accident, he didn't care what might happen to him. He just didn't want the reputation of the department to be damaged. He didn't blame himself for the injuries to the woman and boy, he knew he did all he could to protect them. But... he blamed himself for Larry's death.

He gave a brief, unemotional, factual account of everything that he could remember of the accident, and events leading up to it. He told how he tried to avoid a direct hit on the back passenger door where the boy was sitting. It was only when he said that he woke up in the upside-down van, with Larry lying silently behind him, that his voice began to falter.

An accident-reconstruction expert had the streets all mapped out in color on a large display on an easel, with every tree, and car, and pedestrian noted exactly where they had been, represented with little cardboard cutouts with magnets on the back. He took the accident step-by-step through it's course with his little magnetic car and rescue vehicle. Michael watched intently, waiting to see at what exact point had he made the mistake that cost Larry his life. He was holding his own trial in his head.

He watched and listened, and decided he saw it clearly... when he turned to the left to avoid a direct T-bone into the child. The van hit the car behind the back door, at an angle, the front wheels left the ground, the van angled through the air for a moment, and slammed down on the passenger side -- on Larry's side. If he had hit the car straight on, he and Larry would have probably both survived. The boy would have been instantly killed, and probably the mother too. But Larry, being higher above the car and in the bigger vehicle, would have lived.

He had only meant to save the child, not trade one life for another. He didn't think he would ever forgive himself.

He watched the reconstruction specialist take the magnetic van and turn it upside down in the middle of the road, "... coming to rest here, on it's roof..." he was saying. Michael remembered the light bar spinning down the road, and feeling the weight that fell on him. He knew now that the weight was Larry's body. I'm sorry, Larry.... I'm so sorry.

The case was thrown out. There was no evidence to support any wrong-doing on the part of the rescue crew. It was the car that failed to yield. Michael felt nothing, good or bad, as they dismissed the case. He walked out of the room with his eyes straight ahead, not talking to anyone, not answering any questions. But, there was one set of eyes he couldn't get past -- Nancy, Larry's widow.

She stopped him as he was heading out of the courtroom. He just looked at her silently, not knowing what to say. His eyes filling with tears. Nancy told him that she knew Larry would have made the same decisions, the same moves, if he had been driving. She told him not to blame himself. She told him she didn't want to be bitter and blame anyone, and it took effort for her not to blame the woman in the car, but she most certainly didn't blame him.

She looked into his tear filled eyes and said, "You do, don't you? Blame yourself?" He looked at the floor, and nodded. Nancy took him in her arms, and held his head on her shoulder. "He loved you Michael, you were his friend. He doesn't blame you; if he did, I would know. He doesn't blame you, I promise."

The captain recommended Michael for PTSD counseling. He told him the rescue van wasn't totaled, and neither was he. He wanted them both back in service as soon as he could. Michael looked at him, dumfounded. "You want me to drive, again?" The captain put his hand on his shoulder, saying "Rescue 12 is your baby, Michael. Of course I want you driving it."

He drives now, with a new partner. The lapel pins from Larry's uniform are pinned to the visor.

Larry rides with them on every call.

E P I L O G U E

Darrin is a highly respected and decorated firefighter to this day. He has said that it's all that keeps him going. Beside his bunk at the station is a little yellow, handpainted matchbox firetruck.

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Larry's daughter asks that you rid yourself of distractions while driving, be aware of your surroundings, and always yield to lights and sirens.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

May your angels ride with you on every call,
Peace Out,
Kal