Chapter 5

Daniel

"Great job, Toby and Aliesha!" I say and clap my hands to get the rest of the kids to clap as well. "So now, we're all going to practice how to stop, drop, and roll. Toby and Aliesha, you two stay up here. Aliesha, you call it out. Here… we… go!"

Aliesha, a very cute little nine-year-old shouts, "Stop! Drop! Roll!" and the kids go through the motions. The rest of the kids join in, and it's wonderful to watch them. I love it when I'm on the rotation for the field trips. Every second and fourth Wednesday of the month during the school year, children from local elementary schools come here. Everyone here loves being the one who gets to give the tour and fire department pep talk.

We're just wrapping up, now, and that means handing out plastic firefighter badges, stickers, and that sort of thing. A few of the other guys join in, eager for some of the happiness working with kids in the community produces, I suppose.

I see Mackie.

It's a nice surprise although, as always, the sight of her brings a measure of guilt. She's in the station driveway. She's leaning against HR417. We call it Sweet Beast. It's Company 417's Heavy Rescue vehicle. To a non-firefighter, it looks like a fire engine. It does contain some basic firefighting equipment but that's not this vehicle's purpose. It's the vehicle we use for multiple car pileups (anything that might require cutting through steel to get someone to safety), building collapses, and that sort of thing. It's focus is, for the most part, only incidental to fighting a fire.

Damn, she's beautiful.

The sound of screeching tires commands my attention and I see the sedan veering from the road. I don't have time to think. It's directly in the path of Mrs. Alakai, the fourth-grade teacher here today. She's holding hands with one of the kids. As often happens when faced with danger, she's rooted in place, too shocked to move immediately. It's possible she'll unroot but it's impossible to know that for sure. I just act. I have to.

I leap through the air. The kids will all remember me leaping but as they grow up, they'll think of themselves as remembering it incorrectly. They'll say things like, "It seemed like he jumped fifty feet all at once!" Mrs. Alakai doesn't see my starting point. I don't give a damn about the driver, and everyone else is associated with Company 417. If they see me jump in a way no human can, it's just no big deal. I land right at the teacher and student and they're in my arms when I leap again. We land seven or eight feet away, and I roll with them.

The driver hits a tree at the edge of the station yard.

I immediately get on my feet and rush toward the driver. Our paramedics, Leo and Felina (Who, hilariously, are wolves and not big cats despite their names) rush to Mrs. Alkalai to check on her. One of the remarkable things about Company 417 is how we work as a unit, how there is yet to be a single word of coordination or instruction spoken but everything is being attended to regardless.

The driver is hurt badly. The door will need to be pried open. No hurry. At least, there's not enough of a hurry for me to just rip the door off. He's hurt but not in any immediate danger. I see the two bottles on the passenger side. An empty fifth is on the floor and a third-full fifth is on its side on the passenger seat. Not many people can down a fifth and a half of Canadian whiskey by ten-thirty in the morning.

I turn to survey things. Everyone is attending to the kids and Mrs. Alkalai. Garrett glances at me. I give him a nod to invite him over. He walks in this direction and we meet halfway. I don't stop as I say, "Getting the jaws of life," and keep walking. I get to HR417, open a compartment, and pull out the jaws. I plug the cord in and flip the generator switch. When I half-closed the compartment door, I almost dropped the extraction tool.

"Mackie," I say softly. She had to see my leap. She's looking at me with a face that shows uncertainty, nervousness, and… I can't place the last part. "I need to deal with…"

"Go," she says. "Take care of business, Daniel. That's what heroes do." Admiration. Uncertainty, nervousness, and admiration. Now I know.

I nod and walk with my jaws toward the car. If we weren't right here at the station, I would use a battery-powered tool. The cord is very long, though, and we don't have to worry about other victims or cars getting in the way. I get to the door and Garrett holds out his hands. "Give it to me," he says, "and go be with the kids. You're the one they're all looking toward for reassurance. You're the one who taught them all today."

This is the one time I don't want to handle the kids but he's right. I nod and turn around. Doing so puts me in direct eye contact with Makayla briefly. I give her a slight nod and hurry to the kids. Soon, I'm teaching them a lesson about looking both ways before crossing the street, following directions at crosswalks, and the like.

It takes an hour or so for everything. By then, Makayla has left. I don't know when that happens. The man is on his way to the hospital in an ambulance. He's handcuffed to the gurney. The kids file onto the bus and Mrs. Alkalai gives me a hug and whispers, "Call me," as she slips something into my hand. She gets on the bus and I look at the paper. She's not Mrs. Alkalai. She's Miss Alkalai. Actually, perhaps she's Mrs. Alkalai but still interested in offering herself to me.

We'll need to get together many times before you're thanked properly enough.

Her phone number is on the paper as well, of course. The woman is actually quite lovely, and the way she handles the children is quite lovely, too. I suppose that if Makayla hadn't secured my commitment to a month with her, I might call her.

But Makayla did secure my commitment and there are still three and a half weeks left before I can even think about such things. I stuff the paper into my pocket and then think better of that, pull it out, and crumple it up into my hand. I toss it into the trash on the way into the station and then return to keep an eye on the tow truck driving as he deals with the car and the tree.

Eventually, I can go inside and relax. I pour myself some coffee and text Makayla to let her know things have wound down here. My phone rings almost instantly. When I answer, she says, "Are the people in the car going to survive?"

"There was just one," I say, "and he'll survive. He won't be happy. He was drunk, very drunk."

"Oh," she says. There's a pause and then she says, "I think if he'd hurt one of those kids, I wouldn't be glad that he'll survive."

I chuckle at that. "It's the story of my life. I don't get to choose who gets rescued but sometimes…" I'm trying to gauge how freaked out she is about the leap. She had to see that it wasn't possible for a regular human being. I'm certain of it. But she doesn't say anything. "Anyway," I say, "it was nice to see you. A great surprise. I'm sorry we didn't get to hang out at all. I'm here for two more days. I can probably swing lunch tomorrow."

"Hey, I knew I was with a hero from the beginning, hot stuff. No. I'll save up all my excitement for when you get home."

And that's it.

She tells me she's making a special dinner for me when I get back and some more of that sort of thing, and then that's it. We hang up and she says nothing at all about the leap. I don't understand it but at the very least, I've been granted a stay of execution.