I don’t respond, just nod my head.
“What’s up with you? Did the happiest place on earth not go too well?”
“It was fine.” I push off the counter and head to the other room, not wanting to talk about Disneyland or Kara right now.
Our day goes by pretty normally with medic calls and one stove fire that was out before we even got there, until we’re awoken at five in the morning by the ringing tones above us.
“Station 47, code three with a multi-car accident, one driver pinned between a big rig and the guard rail.”
We all hop out of bed and race to get in our gear, then to our spots in the engine.
With lights flashing and sirens blaring, we speed to the scene.
Over time, I’ve gotten pretty numb to these calls. I remember the first time, my heart was pounding out of control, as I didn’t have a clue what we’d be coming to. Now, it just feels like I’m onto the next call, hoping I can save a few souls, but knowing we all die in the end anyway.
We arrive to a massive clusterfuck of mangled cars. Other engines are on scene, so we hop out, heading to our chief for him to tell us what needs to be done next.
“Station 47, Jaws of Life to the white truck,” he yells before we even get to him.
Hayes and I run to get the massive device and carry it in unison to where the white truck is smashed to all high hell against a big rig.
I climb through on the passenger side to assess the situation. There is an old man in the driver’s seat, not looking good, so I press my fingers to his neck.
“We have a pulse!” I yell out.
Since there’s a sign of life, we move a little faster with a little more intensity, knowing all too well that the pulse could disappear in an instant.
I climb back out of the truck and hurry to the driver’s side with Hayes getting to work on prying the door open. It takes a few tries, but he gets it open, and I move in to see what else could be blocking the trapped driver.
To my surprise, the driver opens his eyes and looks right at me.
“Help me,” he’s barely able to get out.
“I got you. My name is Silas, and I’m getting you out of here. What’s your name?”
“Fred.” His voice is scratchy.
I talk as I work, making sure all his limbs are attached and that we’ll be able to free him easily once we’re all set up. “Fred, don’t you worry. I have my whole team here, and we’ll get you to the hospital. Can you feel your legs?”
He moves to check. “Yeah.”
“And how about your neck?” I place my hands on either side of his head.
He nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Okay, good. Let’s work on getting you out of here.”
I reach for my tool to cut his seat belt. It slices through the chest portion, and as I have my hands on the lap portion, I hear Hayes yell, “She’s going to blow!”
Before I know it, I’m thrown from out of the cab of the truck and tossed to the ground just as a huge explosion erupts in front of us from the big rig’s gas tank exploding.
I scramble to my feet, racing back to the truck, but Hayes stops me.
“He’s gone.”
I push him out of the way. “We don’t know that.”
“Fed, yes, we do!” he screams, yanking me back. “I can’t let you get near that.”
