“And Station Eight probably picked it up. Those bastards are always taking our stuff.”
“Exactly. Hey, Rookie, go give Station Eight a call and see if they have an extra hose stretcher,” I ordered.
The rookie nodded and hustled his ass into the station to make the call.
Carter and I nearly doubled over in laughter.
“Keep it together,” I told Carter, slapping his back. “You’re about to give us away.”
Eric, one of our station’s lieutenants, came out to the garage with a confused look on his face. He glanced over his shoulder. “What’s got the Rookie looking like he’s about to shit himself?”
“He’s spent the last hour looking for the hose stretcher. He’s on his way to call Station Eight to see if they have an extra one.”
Eric grinned. “That one again, huh? This should be good.”
The three of us did our best to hold it together while waiting for the Rookie to come back out.
“What’d they say?” I asked as the Rookie returned looking even more confused.
“He just laughed and hung up the phone. I don’t get it. They never taught us about a hose stretcher during training.”
“That’s because you’re the hose stretcher, Rookie,” Emanuel said as he came up behind the Rookie and slapped him on the shoulder.
Carter, Eric, and I cracked up.
I sighed. “Man, that one never loses its luster.”
“I don’t get it,” the Rookie said, looking between the four of us.
All of us laughed harder.
“You will,” I promised.
A split second later, the shrill sound of the alarm rent through the air, filling the entire stationhouse. Before I could hear any of the details, I was racing behind Carter and Eric to retrieve our turn out gear.
I climbed in the back seat while Emanuel jumped into the driver’s seat with Eric in the passenger seat. Carter sat across from me with the rookie sitting to his right.
“House fire,” Eric called over his shoulder.
With a lift in my brows, I pitched forward. “Anyone inside?”
Eric shook his head. “We don’t know yet. A neighbor called.”
“Let’s go, let’s go,” I demanded.
We passed block after block, blowing through red lights.
As soon as we stopped, I hopped out of the truck.
“Rookie, stretch the damn hose and tie it up to that hydrant,” Eric yelled, pointing at the hydrant not far from our truck.
I frowned and peered at the Rookie, who tripped over the hose trying to rush to open it.
“Rookie, slow down.”
“I need to get the water flowing,” he insisted, tripping again.
I braced his shoulder. “Listen, slow it down and smooth it out. Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast. Got it?”
