Post by AlphaWolf on Nov 17, 2013 22:58:20 GMT -6
FIRELINE
((Closed story))
Eagle Pointe Fire-Rescue Station 1
0300 hours on a Saturday morning
Mark Stone laid comfortably in his rack at Station 1, having decided to spend the night at the station instead of going home. Engine 1's paid crew was snoring down near the engine's fire pole, and Mark was sleeping next to Ladder 1's pole. John Michaels, one of the ladder's designated driver/operators, was sleeping on the other side. Even though Mark and John were volunteers, they regularly spent time at the station with other volunteers, decreasing the response time of vital apparatus such as the ladder and rescue. Mark was a lieutenant, a young officer still cutting his teeth. He was used to being either on the truck or rescue, but wouldn't hesitate to grab a hoseline and be the nozzleman on a structure fire.
As the pair slumbered, the station gong clanged and the lights turned on as the bells placed throughout the station rang, the white strobe lights flashing. The intercom clicked on as the firefighters jumped out of bed and pulled on pants and boots.
"Engine 1, Battalion 1, Ladder 1, Engine 2, Rescue 2, respond emergent to 131 First Avenue for a fire alarm, 131 First for the AFA. Time out 0307."
Mark had rolled out of his bunk on the second bell strike and jumped into his boots, pulling his pants up and buckling them around his waist. He ran for the fire pole and unfastened the gate around it before gripping it with his hands and the edges of his boots and sliding down. Landing easily on the rubber mat at the bottom, Mark took off for the officer's seat of the ladder. He kicked off his boots and jumped into his turnout gear, pulling up his turnout pants and throwing the suspenders over his shoulders as he did up the zipper and velcro. Grabbing his turnout coat from the handrail, he thrust his arms into the sleeves as John climbed into the driver's seat. Across the bay, Engine 1's crew was mirroring their actions, getting in their gear and in the truck. As Mark climbed into the truck, he could hear the bay's door slam as a firefighter ran in, heading for the gear racks. Mark hit the door control as John cranked the truck. Reaching up to the ceiling, Mark pressed the sequencer switch followed by a series of other switches to turn on the truck's emergency lights. He pulled his door shut and the airbrakes released with a hiss as the truck rolled forward onto the tarmac in front of the station.
Picking up the radio mic, Mark keyed up as two more firefighters jumped into the cab, their helmets in their hands.
"Truck 1, Dispatch."
"Go ahead, Truck."
"Truck 1's en route, full crew."
"Copy, 10-17 full crew."
John pulled forward and Mark reached his foot to the front of the floorboard, finding the foot pedal. He stepped down hard on the pedal, and the ladder's Federal Q wound up, screaming into the night as the truck pulled off of the tarmac and turned down Main Street, following Engine 1. Reaching up, he yanked the airhorn chain as the ladder blew the empty intersection at Main and Sixth Avenue.
Eagle Pointe Fire-Rescue Station 1
0300 hours on a Saturday morning
Mark Stone laid comfortably in his rack at Station 1, having decided to spend the night at the station instead of going home. Engine 1's paid crew was snoring down near the engine's fire pole, and Mark was sleeping next to Ladder 1's pole. John Michaels, one of the ladder's designated driver/operators, was sleeping on the other side. Even though Mark and John were volunteers, they regularly spent time at the station with other volunteers, decreasing the response time of vital apparatus such as the ladder and rescue. Mark was a lieutenant, a young officer still cutting his teeth. He was used to being either on the truck or rescue, but wouldn't hesitate to grab a hoseline and be the nozzleman on a structure fire.
As the pair slumbered, the station gong clanged and the lights turned on as the bells placed throughout the station rang, the white strobe lights flashing. The intercom clicked on as the firefighters jumped out of bed and pulled on pants and boots.
"Engine 1, Battalion 1, Ladder 1, Engine 2, Rescue 2, respond emergent to 131 First Avenue for a fire alarm, 131 First for the AFA. Time out 0307."
Mark had rolled out of his bunk on the second bell strike and jumped into his boots, pulling his pants up and buckling them around his waist. He ran for the fire pole and unfastened the gate around it before gripping it with his hands and the edges of his boots and sliding down. Landing easily on the rubber mat at the bottom, Mark took off for the officer's seat of the ladder. He kicked off his boots and jumped into his turnout gear, pulling up his turnout pants and throwing the suspenders over his shoulders as he did up the zipper and velcro. Grabbing his turnout coat from the handrail, he thrust his arms into the sleeves as John climbed into the driver's seat. Across the bay, Engine 1's crew was mirroring their actions, getting in their gear and in the truck. As Mark climbed into the truck, he could hear the bay's door slam as a firefighter ran in, heading for the gear racks. Mark hit the door control as John cranked the truck. Reaching up to the ceiling, Mark pressed the sequencer switch followed by a series of other switches to turn on the truck's emergency lights. He pulled his door shut and the airbrakes released with a hiss as the truck rolled forward onto the tarmac in front of the station.
Picking up the radio mic, Mark keyed up as two more firefighters jumped into the cab, their helmets in their hands.
"Truck 1, Dispatch."
"Go ahead, Truck."
"Truck 1's en route, full crew."
"Copy, 10-17 full crew."
John pulled forward and Mark reached his foot to the front of the floorboard, finding the foot pedal. He stepped down hard on the pedal, and the ladder's Federal Q wound up, screaming into the night as the truck pulled off of the tarmac and turned down Main Street, following Engine 1. Reaching up, he yanked the airhorn chain as the ladder blew the empty intersection at Main and Sixth Avenue.
