Spark & Blaze (A Guns & Hoses Novel) (8 page)

As much as Evan hated arguing with the guy, at least when Malone was angry, he could understand the guy’s behavior. It was all the other weird behavior that he didn’t get. Not only didn’t get, but kind of weirded him out. He had nothing to compare Malone’s strange behavior to and was afraid to ask any of the guys if Malone always acted this way.

Maybe he’s bipolar
, Evan thought without any prejudice.
That would explain a lot
.

If that was the case, then Evan could overlook Malone strange behavior. He could also ignore the guy’s angry lashing out because it was likely to do with dealing with a disruption in what he was used to and having a new co-worker injected into his orbit might take some time for him to adjust.

Evan had plenty of experience with someone suffering from bipolar disorder. So much so, that he thought that Malone may not realize his meds might need to be adjusted.

If he’s even on meds
.

Memories of his mother before she killed herself assaulted Evan. For as long as he could remember, his mother suffered from the mental disease. Of course, when he was young, he just thought his mother was full of energy. She would play with him and run around with him to the point where he became too tired to keep up with her. For days, she would take him out to the park, the zoo, the beach, but he would always tire before her. The house was always clean, too, because she had so much excess energy.

He also thought the days or weeks when she wouldn’t, couldn’t, get out of bed were because she had used up so much energy taking him everywhere. It wasn’t until he was a teenager that he thought his mother might have been addicted to coke or crack. Of course, his mother crashing and burning in bed for days only reinforced his assumption that she was a drug addict.

The clear memory of when he was fifteen played in his mind. His mother wouldn’t go to bed after buzzing for several days. Evan had enough of his mother’s energizer bunny behavior, so he decided he would find her drugs so she couldn’t do them anymore. If he forced her to crash, then when his father came home from his latest extended business trip, he could present the drugs to him and his father would make sure she got the help she needed.

Evan tore apart his parent’s bedroom. When she finally came into the room and caught him, the room looked like a bomb had gone off. Her jewelry box drawers were pulled free. The contents spewed all over the top of the dresser that wasn’t in any less disarray. Dresser drawers were pulled out and scattered around the room under the clothes they once contained.

Evan rifled through every pocket of every piece of clothing and found nothing. He found nothing in the clothes that were hanging in her closet, nothing in her shoeboxes, either.

The nightstands were just as devoid of drugs as were the pillowcases and under the mattress. Evan was tearing apart his parent’s bathroom when his mother came home to find him. She was still screaming at the top of her lungs when his father came home.

To this day, Evan could still remember his father practically physically removing his mother from their bedroom because her rage was bordering on violence. Evan was finishing his search which turned up empty of the drugs he swore his mother was taking, when his father walked back into the bedroom.

An hour later and an explanation to his father found his mother admitted to the mental ward of the hospital. The next day, Evan was told that she was bipolar and not a drug addict.

The first thing he did after the doctors explained his mother’s behavior, was get on his computer. The information he found explained so much. The information also shattered a part of his heart that thought she loved him so much that they did things until he was too tired to enjoy the adventures they shared.

Still, he read many accounts of people who were bipolar that weren’t nearly as
stable
as his mother. People who didn’t engage in healthy behavior, like cleaning the house or taking their son to the park, zoo, or beach, but instead actually sought out drugs, booze, and random sex.

He also knew that he was lucky when his mother’s bipolar went in the other direction. When she was depressed, all she did was sleep until she felt
better
. She never tried to hurt herself or kill herself. Until the end.

Evan was more than just shocked to find one of his parents dead when he stopped by randomly to visit his mother and found her in the tub. His mother had been on medication for years by the time she slit her wrists. In fact, he had just spoken with her the day before on the phone and she had sounded just as fine as always since she had started taking her meds a few years ago. It was no wonder he freaked the hell out after seeing that woman try to kill herself.

“You okay, rookie?” Brostowski’s voice broke into Evan’s fucked up trip down memory lane.

Evan gave himself a mental shake and realized that he was still standing next to his bunk and holding his wet towel. He had no idea how long Brostowski had been standing in the doorway watching him. He hoped it wasn’t long. The last thing he needed was his co-workers questioning his sanity.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Evan replied without looking at Brostowski.

Instead, he draped his towel over the end of his rack before he turned around. Evan moved to walk downstairs, but Brostowski reached out and grabbed his arm. Evan met his co-worker’s gaze and raised a questioning brow.

“You’re doing a good job, regardless of the shit Malone’s giving you.”

“Thanks.” Evan smiled when Brostowski released his arm.

He really wasn’t worried about how his probation with TFD was going because he knew that he could only do his best. He would do his best, too, regardless of the shit Malone threw his way. Evan was halfway down the stairs when Brostowski called out to him again.

“You got a girlfriend, Carmichael?”

Evan turned and met Brostowski’s gaze. He knew his co-worker wasn’t asking because he thought Evan was gay or even interested. Still, the stare Brostowski was leveling on him was intense. So intense that it almost made Evan uncomfortable.

“No. I don’t have time for chicks while I’m trying to secure my job,” Evan answered.

Brostowski nodded then replied, “I was just wondering because if you did, she would be more than welcome to hang out with us at Guns & Hoses.”

“Thanks.” Evan grinned. “When I get one, I’ll be sure to bring her out.”

“Bring whoever you want,” Brostowski replied and turned to walk into the bunk room before Evan had a chance to decide if there was something weird about what Brostowski said or if he should even reply.

Evan did a quick sweep of the rec room on his way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. He didn’t see Malone and that was fine by him. Evan was slightly embarrassed that his argument with Malone became loud enough that the whole station could hear them and Flame and Brostowski had to intervene to shut them up.

None of his co-workers glanced his way while he grabbed a bottle of water and turned back to the rec room. He took that as a good sign that no one was pissed at him or at the very least, taking Malone’s side in their feud. Evan was just about to plop down in an empty space on the couch to watch Cops with the rest of the guys when the tones went off.

“MVA, Dale Mabry and Kennedy,” the voice overhead in the station told them as they headed toward the truck bay door.

Evan gave no thought to Malone’s whereabouts when he scooted around the front of the engine to get where his gear was hanging on a hook. He quickly pulled on his bunker pants and jacket over his Navy jumpsuit. He didn’t bother buckling up his jacket before he grabbed his helmet and climbed into the truck.

He held his helmet braced between his knees while he buckled up his jacket. He was aware of Malone sitting across from him, but he didn’t look up until he was finished securing his jacket and placed his helmet on his head.

Malone still looked pissed off and his jaw was working as if he were trying to grind his teeth down to his gums. The man didn’t look at him and Evan was actually relieved not to have to meet Malone’s angry glare.

The sirens wailed around them, barely muted in the cab of the engine, and Brett fought not to look at Carmichael. He could see the rookie from the corner of his eye and the urge to turn his head and actually take in the younger man dressed out to respond to their call only pissed Brett off more.

He had found co-workers attractive, hell even sexy, before but none of them sent him into a tailspin like Carmichael seemed to do in just a few shifts. There was no reason to be so out of sorts when it came to the good-looking rookie. Shit, he had fucked hotter hook-ups than Carmichael, but they had never turned Brett’s world ass over tits.

Evan heard the noise, the almost animalistic sound, that rumbled from Malone and wasn’t sure what to make of it. What he was sure of was that the man was on the verge of losing his shit because he was so pissed off. He thought the time apart while he took a shower and got dressed was enough to dampen the man’s anger. Apparently, he was wrong. What he wasn’t wrong about was that they couldn’t do their job if Malone was a breath away from flying into a rage.

“Shit, man.”

He met Malone’s hard chocolate brown eyes after he cursed and didn’t look away. He wanted the man to verbally lash out again, but Malone didn’t. Instead, they just locked gazes like some fucked up child’s staring contest.

Carmichael soft curse which he barely heard over the wail of the sirens, made Brett realize he was growling out his anger at himself. His gaze shot to Carmichael’s and met the rookie’s pale gray-eyed stare under the brim of Evan’s helmet. The expression on Carmichael’s face was surprisingly neutral and it was that neutrality that froze the angry retort that threatened to escape Brett’s lips.

“We need to be able to work together on the scene,” Evan ventured and braced himself for Malone’s angry response.

“I fucking know that,
rookie
.”

“Then pull your shit together and hide your fucking crazy because right now, I wouldn’t trust you to take care of my fucking grandmother without killing her as pissed off as you are.”

Brett was about to tell Carmichael to ‘fuck off’ when the rookie’s words breached his mind.
Hide my crazy
, Brett mentally repeated it couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his throat. That was a good one, even Brett could admit. Still, even though he found Carmichael’s words amusing, they didn’t dampen Brett’s anger enough to stop him from glaring at the man.

Evan heard what he thought was a chuckle, but he didn’t get his hopes up since what he saw in Malone’s eyes didn’t change. He raised a questioning brow that he was sure Malone could see even though he wore his helmet. However, if Malone was going to take his challenge to answer, he would never know because they pulled up to the scene and the moment the truck stopped, they both jumped out.

Chapter Eight

Th
e
motor vehicle accident was almost as bad as the pile up where they had two fatalities last shift. Four cars were involved, but from just a glance, Brett determined that the first and second cars in the turn lane were the least critical. The passengers of both cars were already mulling around the outside of their vehicles and taking pictures of the damage to their cars. It was the two cars that were crinkled in the middle of the intersection of Dale Mabry and Kennedy that needed their attention.

“Carmichael, with Flame on the PT Cruiser,” Stevenson called out. “Malone and Brostowski on the Forte.”

None of the men wasted time acknowledging their captain’s orders. Instead, they approached their assigned vehicles to assess the damage. Peters and Anderson were already doing medical assessments on the passengers in each vehicle.

“Let’s get this hood up and get the battery disconnected,” Flame said to Evan before he wedged in the end of a crowbar under the crumpled hood in hopes to pop it up.

“Side looks bad,” Evan mentioned. “We gonna need the Jaws?” Evan had yet to use the Jaws of Life outside of his training at the Fire College.

“Don’t think so,” Flame said after a glance at the driver’s side of the car. “Grab a few blankets and a punch tool. We’re going to go in through the front window and take them out that way if we can.”

“Alright,” Evan yelled over his shoulder while he jogged back to the rig.

He grabbed what they needed and was jogging back to Flame when he looked at the other vehicle. Malone and Brostowski were already working to secure the passengers so Evan shifted his attention back to Flame. Flame had the hood popped, though it would only raise a few inches.

“Spread the blanket over the victim and Peters then pop the windshield,” Flame ordered. “I’m almost finished here.”

Evan gave Flame a nod even though he knew the man couldn’t see him since his chest was plastered to the grill of the car. Flame’s face was pressed so close to the hood that he would likely have indents from where he was plastered against the crushed metal.

Evan, Flame, and Peters successfully extracted the driver out of the vehicle. Peters turned the patient over to station 24 and Evan followed him over to where his partner, Anderson, Brostowski, and Malone were still trying to extract the three victims in the Forte.

Brett never noticed his co-workers approach because his large frame was under a blanket and crammed into the back seat of the small car while he tried to reassure the child that was pinned between the door and the back of the driver’s seat.

He used his body as a shield while he heard Brostowski and Anderson using the Jaws of Life to cut away the driver-side door to get the kid’s unconscious father out to the vehicle. Peters was already extracting the kid’s teenage sister from the passenger seat, but Brett’s focus was on the boy with him under the blanket. He knew his co-workers knew their job and he knew his. So, he did it.

“Charlie, do you have a dog? Any pets?” Brett asked in a calm voice.

“No,” Charlie answered with the sob. “It hurts. My leg hurts.”

“I know, Charlie,” Brett spoke softly.

He checked the kid’s pulse again. It was rapid, but not dangerously so. Still, Brett knew that when it came to children the situation could go to shit in a heartbeat. Another look down to where Charlie’s leg was trapped between the door and the driver’s seat made Brett nervous.

“I’m gonna touch your leg, Charlie,” Brett informed the child calmly like he was just telling the kid he was going to pet his dog.

Brett stretched down and ignored the warm slickness of Charlie’s blood that he could feel while he worked his way down the kid’s leg. It was more than a tight squeeze to get his muscular arm into the confined space. Brett could tell he was only an inch or two, at the most, away from where he needed to feel a pedal pulse.

Fuck!
Brett cursed mentally.

He held the blanket over him and Charlie at the same time he tried to find a gap to reach the kid’s pulse behind his ankle. He was still reaching toward the floor boards and along Charlie’s leg in search of a pulse when the edge of the blanket that covered him and the boy lifted.

Brett had no need to turn his head to see who was checking on him and the status of their patient. He was already bent at an unnatural enough angle to see clearly out of the backseat window of driver’s side of the car.

“What do you need me to do?” Carmichael asked and Brett didn’t need to pause before he answered.

“Jaws on the door,” Brett replied.

“As soon as the drivers out,” Evan informed, but noted the twisted position of Malone’s body. “You have a bleeder?” Evan asked with only a quick glance at the victims face before locking his eyes back on Malone’s deep brown gaze.

“Can’t reach to find out, but vitals are still good,” Brett replied without straightening from his position to find a pulse near the kid’s ankle.

“Swap out?” Evan offered because he
was
smaller than Malone even if it wasn’t by much.

“I’m good,” Brett replied automatically without much thought.

“I’m smaller,” Evan countered non-aggressively.

Brett realized Carmichael was right. If the kid had a bleeder, then he needed someone who could at least reach the site in order to apply pressure. As it was, Brett couldn’t reach barely passed Charlie’s knee because of where the driver’s seat trapped him.

“All right,” Brett agreed. “Come around.”

The blanket dropped to drape through the shattered backseat window. Seconds later, Brett felt tapping on the inside of his left boot. The totally inappropriate image of a lover tapping his foot in the same way to get him to spread his legs wider flashed through his mind. The thought wasn’t enough to cause his body to react, but the fact that he had the thought it at all while in the middle of a scene that involved saving a kid’s leg, and possibly his life, was just beyond disturbing.

“Back out,” Evan ordered Malone to let his co-worker know he was ready to take his place.

Slowly, Brett raised himself back on to all fours on the backseat. “Charlie, my friend Evan is going to come keep you company so I can work on the door to get you out. Okay?”

Charlie nodded. Brett knew based on the tears that stream down Charlie’s face and his sniffled sobs that Charlie was in pain and scared shitless.

“Hold the blanket for me, Charlie,” Brett requested and waited until the eight-year-old grasped the bunched up blanket in his small hands.

Evan heard every word Malone spoke to the kid even though they were both partially covered by a blanket. He stepped to the side when Malone’s big body started to shimmy out of the backseat.

“I couldn’t reach the pedal pulse and his leg is covered in blood.” Brett leaned in close to update Carmichael quietly enough so that the child wouldn’t hear him. “His pulse is rapid, but that could just be from the accident.”

“Alright.” Evan moved to crawl into the backseat.

“I’ll get the Jaws as soon as Brostowski is finished with them,” Brett said to Carmichael’s kneeling back. “We need to cut him out so just keep him calm until we can and try to find out where he’s bleeding.”

Evan didn’t bother to reply, but instead just nodded his helmet-covered head before he for he lifted the blanket and join their child victim.

“Hi Charlie, I’m Evan.” Evan scooted as close as he could without jostling the child.

“Hi,” Charlie replied weakly with a pain filled voice.

“I’m going to check your leg just like the other nice firemen did, okay?”

Evan barely waited long enough for Charlie to nod before he began feeling his way down the child’s leg. He could feel the warm slickness of the child’s blood on his hands even though he followed procedure and wore blue latex gloves.

This can’t be good
, Evan thought when his hands felt like he wasn’t wearing gloves at all.

Metal from the front seat snagged on his bunker jacket while he tried to reach the boys ankle. His instinct, his desire was to remove his bulky jacket, but protocol required he keep it on. He had already fucked up with protocol once, he wasn’t about to do it again even though every bone in his body was screaming that he could help the kid more if he weren’t wearing his jacket.

Still, Evan reached further along Charlie’s leg into the twisted metal until he could feel the top of the kid’s sneaker. Even with his gloves, Evan could feel how soggy the child’s sock was and how his sneaker was almost overflowing with liquid. Liquid that Evan knew could only be the boy’s blood.

Evan ignored everything he felt and focused on feeling the kid’s pulse behind his ankle. He moved his fingers to several different places, but could not find a beat under the child’s thin skin.

“You okay up there, Charlie?”

Charlie didn’t answer and Evan didn’t even bother lifting his head from where it was crammed in between the back seat in the front seat center console before he yelled.

“Malone!” Evan felt the blanket lift off his neck and knew that it was Malone who ducked under. “Check his pulse,” Evan ordered. “I’ve got nothing down here.”

Evan didn’t try to move before he felt weight leaning slightly against him. Silence stretched while Evan’s head was lifted just enough to be even with the backseat. It felt like the silence that was threatening to suffocate Evan under the blanket lasted for minutes, but he was sure it had only lasted a few seconds.

“Nothing.”

Malone’s voice sounded muffled since he was still under the blanket, but even if Evan wanted to speak, his mouth was too dry to form words. All of the adrenaline from the call drained out of him in a flood and he never realized that he had lowered his head again. He never noticed the tears that streamed down his cheeks either.

Brett watched Carmichael, who sat across from him while they returned to the station, and tried not to relive the first time he had lost a child on the job. The first time that he couldn’t save a young innocent life. It was impossible not to remember his first. Hell, he could remember every child he was at least partially responsible for not being able to save, but the first was the one he relived every time they lost another.

Carmichael would always remember this one, remember Charlie, and Brett knew from experience that there was nothing any of them could do or say to make the rookie feel better. He also knew from experience that Carmichael was going to, would need to, lash out and blame someone.

If the rookie was anything like Brett was when he experienced the first death of a child he had tried to save, Carmichael would blame the last co-worker he had engaged on the scene before the child died. So, regardless of the other bullshit confrontations they had already engaged in with one another, Brett knew the rookie was going to lash out at him over the latest scene where a child had died in front of Carmichael for the first time.

Brett knew it had to happen, it was inevitable. So, once the rig was back at the station he didn’t hurry to get out of his gear. In fact, he took time to watch as Carmichael moved to a spot along the bench where his gear was to be stored. Brett even lingered long enough to see Carmichael place helmet on the shelf and begin to unbuckle his jacket.

Brett didn’t linger any longer than that before he moved around the front of the engine to the space where his equipment was kept. He set his helmet on the shelf and unbuckled his bunker jacket. He was shrugging out of the heavy fire resistant coat when he heard Flame’s voice.

“You going to be okay?”

Brett knew not only what Flame was asking, but the reason behind why he was asking and he couldn’t blame the guy for the concern he heard in his co-worker’s voice.

“I’ll be fine,” Brett replied. When Flame just continued to stare at him, Brett spoke again, “it’s all good. Really.
We’ll
be fine.”

Flame seemed to accept Brett’s answer because he just nodded before he opened the station door. Flame paused for only a moment to meet Brett’s gaze. Whether that pause was due to remembering when Brett lost his shit and blamed Flame for the first kid Brett had ever lost or whether it had something to do with something else, Brett didn’t know or really care at the moment.