Destined for Destruction

chapter seven - luke

I woke up to the sound of my pager going off. The tones dropped and so did my heart, before regaining its composure and beating like a maniac. I jumped out of bed as soon as I could make sense of the sound. I grabbed my glasses and phone and thundered down the stairs. "FIRE CALL!" I screamed on my way out the door, hoping my mother heard me. Granted, it was her only day off this week; she was probably sleeping.

Since joining the Harleysville Fire Department, I've started to sleep with clothes on. Hard to believe, I know. Despite living right behind the firehouse, some folks can get to the station in their cars faster than I can get dressed and run over. It ain't too bad in the middle of the day, when I've already got pants on, but in the middle of the night, I make the second truck cause I had to put my socks on before my shoes. I've even considered buying a 4-wheeler or something to make the commute even faster. Nothing is worse than not making a truck.

That being said, I've learned to read the notes of the call on the truck. I just prepare for the worst and plan accordingly. I put on an airpack for every call in case I need it and grab the halligan bar every time I step off the truck. I like to be prepared.

I got to the firehouse and was only slightly out of breath from running so fast. I went to my gear rack and stepped into my boots and bunker pants before throwing on my radio strap and coat. I grabbed my helmet and made a beeline for the engine.

I threw open the door but a senior member stopped me before I could reach the step to get in. "Sorry, kid. Truck's full and they only called the engine."

I looked around for a junior to throw off the truck but there weren't any. It was all senior members on the truck. How were this many people? Was there a hang out that I missed?

"I'll stay in the station in case they call for backup?" It came out more like a question than a statement but I did as I said I would.

I stepped off the truck and waved it off as I walked over to the call sheet clipboard. For every call, we had to document it. Well, an officer had to, usually the chief. Thank God I'm not there yet, I don't wanna do paperwork. Not like they'd let the new graduate be an officer. You need experience to be an officer; I barely had six months at the department and had just graduated from the Fire Academy a week ago. All the officers came to support me. Even James came, not like it mattered or whatever. It didn't make my heart race to see his handsome face in the crowd of Class A uniforms. No, definitely not. Shut up.

Anyways, I walked over to the call sheet clipboard and with a black pen, I began to fill out the call information. It came through as an electrical fire but the notes said that it was just an electrical box sparking. We probably couldn't do much for them; it was PECO's problem.

I filled out the paperwork as best I could with the information from the IAmResponding app — but not without grumbling. "Do they know who I am? I'm Luke fuckin' Hertz, goddammit. I've been a senior member for how long and they're kicking me off the truck?"

"You haven't." A familiar voice said. Goddammit. Where the hell did James come from?

Shit. He was right. Tomorrow was the monthly meeting where they might vote me in to be a full member.

"Shut up."

"You shut up." He wasn't teasing.

"I shouldn't be getting kicked off the truck. I'm young, I just graduated from the Academy. I can do this shit!"

"It was a sparking electrical box. You know you couldn't have done anything. That's PECO's problem."

"I still could've gone on the call!"

"And done what? Sit on the truck and twiddle your fucking thumbs?"

"Whoa, calm down, James."

"Me? You've got this self-righteous attitude that's getting really fucking old."