Set Fire To The Rain

Memento Mori

Back at the firehouse, the night of that call ended like any other night.

"Helluva run, eh?"

"They don't call our house the Perfect 10 for nothing."

"We were doin' it. How long's it been since we had a 3-alarm?"

"Longer than Shea's wife's been alive...Right, Shea?"

"Ayo, give the guy a break, alright? He took one for the team. Did you see that bone sticking out of his wrist?"

"Fire's out, lieutenant. Come sit and throw down some ends with us. You want in on this round? 2 out of 3, Noe. You and me."

"I'm working here," I muttered, hunched over my desk with a pen and a nice stack of incident reports, using my brick desk leg as a footstool. "Fire's out for you guys. But for me, the fun just keeps on coming."

"Yeah, just like that time your-"

"Enough. Learn to read the room, son," Riley cut James off before he could finish that sentence.

"What's the matter with you, Noe? You gonna be a mood hoover all night?"

"You gonna write these run reports for me, assholes?"

"A basket of fucking sunshine, this guy is...Anyway, who's drawing next? After a fire like that, I'm feeling lucky tonight."

Eventually, their adrenalin burned out and everyone dispersed after dinner.

Spicy pulled pork sandwiches with pickle. James's specialty.

The house got quiet as the guys turned in to bed, waiting for the tones to go off and do it all over again.

That was fine for them. They could do that without another care in the world. Without the raw memory of being slammed against a wall with a gun pointed to their head.

They could sleep knowing that no one had, only just a few hours ago, threatened to kill them and everyone they loved, if they spoke up about what really happened in that fire.

I knew the right thing to do was to say something. Saying something would speed up the investigation and help get this guy off the streets.

But as I kept to myself in the rec room, watching a rerun of The Sopranos, I convinced myself there was nothing else I could do tonight.

I did everything I could already.

And still...the call got to me.

I'm a man. I'm supposed to stay level-headed and shake things off like this.

And not only that, I'm my father's son. This is what we do as firefighters.

It's not always as simple as rescuing kittens.

Sometimes, it's dangerous.

I risk my life every day in memory of my dad's name.

I've never stepped out of line on the job once. Never gave anyone a reason to believe I wasn't a dependable, upstanding guy like him, who could be trusted to carry the name.

And because of that, I didn't know how to tell the guys exactly how scared I'd been on that call. I wasn't even sure how to break it to myself.

Even after my worst close calls, I never ended up in a corner at my own pity party.

I tried to tell myself that it was just another part of the job that I'd have to swallow.

But my life was threatened that night. Toyed with, even.