A Firefighter Christmas Carol and Other Stories by Douglas Brown

A Firefighter Christmas Carol and Other Stories by Douglas Brown

Author:Douglas Brown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ghosts, suicide, short stories, ptsd, psychological, a christmas carol, scrooge, dickens, post traumatic stress disorder, firefighter
Publisher: Douglas Brown


Second Alarm

Ted’s two days off were a welcome break from his constant nerves and the fear of making mistakes on the job. He began his next shift with an involuntary attempt at cooking breakfast for the guys. He wasn’t much of a cook and told them so, but they didn’t seem to care. They were hungry and he was the newest member, which meant he didn’t have much choice.

They started their shift in the same way they had ended the last: hacking on Ted for his overzealous hose dragging incident. He struggled to not let their ribbing get under his skin, but he couldn’t help being a little bothered. In the academy they had told him to find a sense of humor or the veterans would eat him alive, and he could already sense that they were right. If veterans didn’t like a new guy, they’d ignore him, and that was far worse than the teasing. Ted was feeling pretty well-liked into his third shift.

While he was stirring the eggs, the station private phone rang in the other room. Someone else answered it. The door to the kitchen opened and Kelly stuck his head in. “Hey, Ted. Call for you.”

“Thanks, Kelly.”

“You know I’m not your secretary, right?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Can you stir these eggs for me?”

“I’m not your chef, either.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I …”

Kelly brushed him off with a smile. “I’m just kidding, kid. Go take your call. I’ve got this.”

Ted raced to the small closet that had been converted into a phone booth. “Hello?” It was his girlfriend.

Her voice was a pleasant escape from the heckling. “Hi, sweetie,” she said. “Clean up any hose yet today?”

Really? Her too? “Very funny.”

“How’s your day going?”

“Terrible. How the hell do you make pancakes?”

“You don’t know how to make pancakes?”

“Less judging, more explaining. I don’t have much time.”

She started to tell him just as the kitchen door swung open. “Hey, kid,” Lieutenant Sanders interrupted. “Your eggs are burning.”

“Kelly said he’d stir them.”

“Well, he’s not.”

Damn. “Honey, I gotta go. I’ll call you back.”

Before he joined the others in the kitchen, the long, steady fire tone blared over the PA. The crew poured through the door like someone had shouted, “Bomb.”

Ted started to follow them to the truck, but Sanders grabbed his arm. “You wanna burn down the station?”

Ted stared slack-jawed at him.

“Your eggs?”

“Right. Sorry.” Ted raced into the kitchen, turned off the burner, and removed the skillet. He hurried to the engine.

They were no sooner out the door when the lieutenant called back over the siren’s wail, “Ah, damn. This is starting to get on my nerves.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Three-two-five Riggs,” he shouted as if the address should mean something to Ted. When he saw that it didn’t, he added, “The fire alarm from last shift? The one with the dog shit in the basement?”

“Oh yeah.” Ted nodded while slipping his arms into his fire coat.

“No hose this time unless I tell ya. Got it?”

Ted nodded again.

The engine pulled up to the front of the familiar house.



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