“Wait a minute,” Carver protested. “She hasn’t even picked yet.”
Jones grunted. “Carver, you always get picked last. Erin always gets picked first. This is how the numbers will fall out.”
Again, Noah kept his peace. If he didn’t miss his guess, only Jones, Knight, and Jefferson were the free agents. Rodriguez and Clarke stayed on opposite teams, and Hudgens was the prize who determined the winner of each race.
The obstacle course was a version of the candidate physical exam test. It started with a standard turnout drill where they donned their entire seventy pounds of bunker gear with SCBA tank in less than two minutes. They then had to run through a stretch of tires, climb the stairs to the catwalk over the barn, hand over hand raise a hose, descend the opposite stairs, and then drag the hundred and eighty-pound mannequin across the floor.
The women ran the obstacle course first. Hudgens didn’t even need the five-second head start because she plowed through the donning section without difficulty. While she was obviously experienced and talented, it was apparent why she excelled at this: her turnouts fit much better than her female compatriots’ due to her height. Rodriguez and Knight were several inches shorter and struggled more to put on their turnouts and run the tires.
Hudgens had no such difficulty. She moved smoothly over the tires and up the stairs. The two other ladies made up time by using their smaller size to their advantage and taking the stairs together, which wouldn’t have been possible if they were larger.
Regardless of her advantages, Hudgens finished about ten seconds in front of the two lieutenants. Then she would get five seconds subtracted from her time.
When the four men started, they struggled in a way the first group hadn’t. The donning of the turnouts went okay, but the tires were an issue. The guys were getting too close together, especially Carver who was in the middle, bumping into Jones and Clarke.
The big problem occurred at the stairs. Clarke got there first, followed by Carver because Jones and Jefferson slowed down to let him pass, dodging his more ungainly strides.
Carver misjudged his speed and bumped into Clarke, knocking him forward onto the third step. His lieutenant had had enough. Whipping off his mask, he started yelling. “Carver! The stairs can only be traversed one at a time if you own a Y chromosome! You’ve done this drill enough!”
The doctor retreated, taking off his mask. “I’m sorry. I had the momentum going.”
“It doesn’t matter. Speed and momentum don’t matter without control. You’re going to get us killed.”
Rodriguez ran up. “Clarke, clamp it down.”
“No!” he yelled. “Imagine if he’d been on Sector 26 when it exploded. He’d be dead, same as that family. Carver should be honing his instincts, not relearning basics like climbing the stairs over and over again.
“He’s only a probie! It’s only been four months,” Luna argued.
“He’s too old,” Clarke shot back.
Jones was willing to put in his two cents. “We could lower the physical exam standards for him.”
“Nobody’s lowering any physical exam standards,” Knight said. “We don’t ask for lowered physical exam standards. We’re not going to ask for them because he’s older. He does the drill like the rest of us. If you can’t cut it, then you can’t cut it, and that’s the name of the game.”
Clarke said, “Exactly. If he can’t hack the physical portion, then that’s it.”
“And it’s our job to teach him. You don’t get to go around overruling the academy,” Rodriguez interrupted, “especially not with the Chief standing right here.”
Hudgens and Jefferson said nothing the entire time. They stood back and watched the argument.
Noah decided the fight had gone on long enough. “Line up now!”
He let them stand for a minute before going into the office. This was partially his fault since this shift had been struggling for a year. Adding a probie hadn’t helped. In some ways, it had hurt the shift as another destabilizing factor. His gaze fell on the framed team drawing.
He came back with an armful of yellow legal pads. No one met his eyes as he passed the pads out. They knew this wasn’t their best performance.
“It was strongly considered more than once to break up A-shift after the incident debrief in July. Having the fastest response time doesn’t mean anything if your team isn’t functional. I had hoped that my time here would help, but I made a mistake. I assumed trust from you which I had not earned. Why should you trust me? I was willing to leave you behind in the high-rise.”
No one dared twitch at the suggestion that he had failed them.
“Firefighting is hard, and I believe A-shift is worth salvaging because you could be my best team. But first I need to give you something of myself. Starting with the basics—why I became a firefighter. Because I thought it would make me cool. I was a short, shy, skinny kid, and I needed all the help I could get. Now something you didn’t know about me. I hate making my bed. I never do it. One of the best parts of being captain is no one inspecting my sleeping quarters.”
He searched their faces. “I’m giving each of you a legal pad, and I want you to do the same. Tell me why you became a firefighter and tell me something you don’t think I know. Make it as humorous or as serious as you want—from your favorite color to a complaint you don’t want to submit officially. Keep it anonymous if you want. Dismissed.”
The team filed away in silence, and he wondered what they would be willing to share.
* * *
