It was the worst brush fire Mike remembered fighting, high in the hills above LA: almost twenty-four hours of non-stop heat, smoke, and bone-deep exhaustion, no end in sight, and he with the “easy” job of engineer, though today he also hauled hose and dug fire trenches to hold the line.
When Mike left in the middle of their break at base camp, to visit the latrine and pick up messages from the command centre, the Station 51 crew were all eating and talking, still wearing their smoky, sooty turnouts; when he returned less than five minutes later, he found all of them resting against the wall and each other like half-toppled dominoes, looking like one good push would finish the job. Johnny’d pillowed his head on Roy’s shoulder; Marco and Chet were pretty much pressed together between Roy and Cap; and Cap propped up the whole line, head tilted back against the concrete with his eyes closed.
All were apparently sound asleep; Mike grinned fondly at them, then sobered: he was loathe to disturb this stolen moment of peace in the middle of the maelstrom, but the message for Cap was too important to delay. Cap’s eyes fluttered open when Mike squatted in front of him to tell him their break had been shortened; they had only thirty minutes left before they had to return to the inferno. Cap blinked his silent acknowledgement, then darted his gaze to the empty spot beside him. Why not; accepting the silent invitation, Mike slid down the wall until he had joined them on the grass. He would prop up the line until it was time to head back, he decided as Cap’s head lolled onto his shoulder; and he turned his face upwards to the red sun smouldering in the burnt sky.
Emergency!, Mike Stoker & Hank (Cap) Stanley
When Mike left in the middle of their break at base camp, to visit the latrine and pick up messages from the command centre, the Station 51 crew were all eating and talking, still wearing their smoky, sooty turnouts; when he returned less than five minutes later, he found all of them resting against the wall and each other like half-toppled dominoes, looking like one good push would finish the job. Johnny’d pillowed his head on Roy’s shoulder; Marco and Chet were pretty much pressed together between Roy and Cap; and Cap propped up the whole line, head tilted back against the concrete with his eyes closed.
All were apparently sound asleep; Mike grinned fondly at them, then sobered: he was loathe to disturb this stolen moment of peace in the middle of the maelstrom, but the message for Cap was too important to delay. Cap’s eyes fluttered open when Mike squatted in front of him to tell him their break had been shortened; they had only thirty minutes left before they had to return to the inferno. Cap blinked his silent acknowledgement, then darted his gaze to the empty spot beside him. Why not; accepting the silent invitation, Mike slid down the wall until he had joined them on the grass. He would prop up the line until it was time to head back, he decided as Cap’s head lolled onto his shoulder; and he turned his face upwards to the red sun smouldering in the burnt sky.