Where There's Smoke, There's Fire
I crack the front door open.
I call out Fire Department.
No Sound.
I don’t see anybody.
Then I heard it.
Then I wished I hadn’t heard it.
A woman screaming hysterically.
A deep primal scream.
I hurry across the hardwood entryway.
Then I turn the corner and see her.
She’s at the bottom of the stairs.
She moves almost in slow motion.
Her back against the wall.
She slides all the way down to the floor.
Her hand quivering over her mouth.
Oh God.
I turn and look up the stairs.
There is a family portrait.
Nice looking family.
The picture was taken by the river.
It was fall and the leaves were turning.
The two kids were smiling.
The Mom and Dad were smiling.
I make it to the top of the stairs.
I smell the gunpowder right away.
I accidentally kick a toy on the floor.
Damn near fall on my face.
I catch myself and look up.
He is sitting in his office chair.
His torso is upright with his head bowed.
The wall behind him is splattered dark red.
A small ribbon of smoke rises from his head.
I finger his wrist for a pulse.
Because we have to.
His other hand is loosely holding a 1911.
That’s a nice pistol.
I have one just like it.
I try to feel for a pulse I know isn’t there.
I stare at the top of the desk to try and focus.
There are creased hospital papers laid open.
The other firefighter anxiously waits.
Medical bag in hand.
Just in case.
There is no heartbeat.
I look up at my Captain and shake my head.
He looks around before keying the radio mic.
10-100 can we get PD and Coroner.
He types a few things on his tablet.
There will be a report written later.
It will say something like this.
Injury incompatible with life.
My Captain keys the radio mic again.
Medic 42 you can cancel.
There’s no reason for them to see this.
If they don’t absolutely have to.
They would do the same for us.
My Captain looks at me.
He looks at the other firefighter.
You guys good.
Yeah we’re good.
Then he turns and heads down the stairs.
He leaves us alone with the smoking head.
But I’d rather be here than where he’s going.
I watch him disappear down the stairs.
My gut is heavy thinking of my Captain.
My gut is heavy thinking of the wife.
My heart begins to race thinking of the kids.
My eyes begin to well up thinking of my kids.
They’re at home probably in bed right now.
I want to call my wife.
I want to make sure everything is ok.
But of course I can’t.
I shouldn’t have thought about the kids.
Damn my brain.
The wife begins screaming again.
She knows as soon as she sees my Captain.
She knows her husband is dead.
But some things we just don’t want to know.
I hear my Captain try to clear his throat.
Trying to steady his voice.
Trying to soften the blow.
I’m sorry Mam your husband is dead.
His sterile words hit like a baseball bat.
They always do.
His job is an impossible one.
What is there to say.
When nothing can be said.
He waits downstairs with the wife.
We wait upstairs with the dead body.
PD is asking the wife questions.
It’s a requirement of their job.
That they know all the details.
Their job is a tough one.
The coroner arrives and takes over.
We gather our things and leave quietly.
We get back in the engine.
Time to head back to the firehouse.
Dinner is sitting half-cooked on the stove.
We all sit quietly for a few minutes.
Then I decide to break the silence.
I damn near ate it at the top of the stairs.
Stepped on a fucking toy.
I saw my life flash before my eyes.
Good thing I didn’t fall backwards.
Tyler sure as hell wouldn’t have caught me.
That would’ve been worse.
We would’ve had two dead bodies in there.
My Captain turns his head to look at me.
He’s trying to keep his composure.
That is messed up he says.
We all laugh.
We have to.