Backdraft: Burning hot in the firehouse

When Wade wakes him up, looking for a bit of action, Patrick stops to think about it. What if the rest of the firehouse was to find out?

The rough blanket was making it impossible to sleep. That and I had a distinct feeling we would be called out as soon as I fell asleep. I threw the blanket off and began to shiver in moments, the cold crawling up my spine. The second floor of the firehouse was freezing. I hauled the blanket back onto my shoulders. I let my mind wander through the day I'd had yesterday.

It had been nothing special. Cleaning, laundry … grocery shopping. The replay soon bored my mind into relaxing. Sleep finally descended on me.

And sure enough, the damned alarm rang out.

There were six of us sleeping in the room. Everyone scrambled out of bed and hit the pole at the far end of the room. Landing at the bottom, in the bay, we yanked on our firefighting gear.

Outfitted, I dropped into one of the backseats and strapped in.

The bay doors rolled open, and we sped out into the night.

"Patrick …" The guy across from me nudged me with his foot. I had only worked with him a few times. Sure, we had trained together plenty, but I had no idea what he was like in the field.

I smirked at him. "Yes, Wade … I'm awake."

Wade chuckled. "Just checking. You had your eyes closed."

"Just preparing myself." The call was for an actual fire. Usually, our time was spent as first responders to car accidents and the occasional heart attack. One's system became flooded with adrenaline and nerves when the call came in for something potentially dangerous.

We arrived; pulled up to an apartment building. Three floors, five stories up were engulfed in flames. It was a nightmare-inducing scenario. The street was crowded with onlookers and residents of the building. The first job was to run the hoses and clear the people out of the way. We would work with the police and the paramedics to ensure everyone was safe.

After the captain assessed the situation, the lieutenant dispensed the orders. My task was to head into the building and start clearing the floors. Make sure everyone was out safely. Wade would work with me as part of a two-man team.

We each grabbed an ax and headed for the front door. We started at opposite ends of the hallway and started pounding on doors. Surprisingly, there were always a few people that failed to exit the building. And others, who were mobility challenged, who needed our assistance. With the first floor empty, we headed to the floor above the fire. Another team had arrived and would start clearing the floors between the ground and the fire.

The blast of flames came out of nowhere. The smoke had been thick as we moved toward the stairwell. When we opened the door leading to it, the ball of fire spewing forth had knocked us both on our asses. Wade was behind me. I landed on him hard. He patted my shoulder. I nodded, reached back, and tapped his thigh a few times. We were both all right.

We struggled to our feet and continued. It was hard going, and we were exhausted by the time we climbed back in the fire engine at nine-thirty the next morning. The fire was out. The building secure. There would be another team comb through the debris to make sure we hadn't missed any hot spots. After that, an investigator would start work, determining the cause.

Hyped up from the adrenaline, sleep was not on anyone's mind. We all crowded into the kitchen of the firehouse for a cup of coffee, then headed to the showers. We nearly drained the hot water tank. Six guys with a layer of serious grime to be washed away took a while. Most of the guys left after that, their shifts over. I stayed on. So did Wade. We were both working three nights straight. Not sure why he stuck around. I just didn't feel like going home.

I looked around the common room. I like the camaraderie of firefighting. The hum of the firehouse in full swing. Hanging out with the men and women of the day shift while they watched television, played games, and cooked food; I almost felt normal.

"You all right?" Wade touched my shoulder. I was leaning against the kitchen counter, gazing off blindly into space. "Sleeping with your eyes open this time."

I finished the coffee in my cup. "I should probably lie down for a while."

"Yeah, not much sleep last night." He clapped his hand on my shoulder. "I'm exhausted."

Wade followed as I headed for the sleeping quarters. "Why didn't you head home?"

"Not much interesting there," he replied. "You?"

I shrugged and lied. "I like this bed better."

"Hah!" Wade shoved me playfully. I tumbled into a lower bunk. He climbed up on the top; the squeak of the springs from the bed above me settling in moments.

I passed out.

I was awoken by the shift and rattle of the metal bed frame, and the thump of feet as they landed on the floor beside me. It was pitch black in the room, but it couldn't be anyone other than Wade. We were the only ones who needed to rest up for our shift.

I rolled to face the figure. "Can't sleep?"

"No." It was Wade. That made me relax. We had worked well together last night. We had come to rely on each other fully. I trusted him now.

"Thinking about the fire?"

"No." Wade squatted down beside my bed. "I've had something else on my mind."