The older guy of the three hangs back as the two lieutenants come to stand in front of us.
“My name is Lieutenant Gerald Schmidt, and I am your commanding officer. This here is Lieutenant Hammond. He and I will be alternating the running of this crew. As some of you know, I have made the transfer in from Engine 41. I expect all rules and regulations to be upheld by every member of this crew. I don’t care if it is your first day”—he swings his gaze to me before sending it down the line—“or you’ve been here for years. Any slip ups, anyone found doing a half-assed job will be reported to me. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” the line snaps back.
Schmidt must be around late forties, judging by his salt-and-pepper hair and less-toned physique. I’m getting thedo as I say not as I dovibe from this guy. And I push it aside, wanting to give him the instant respect he’s asking for. His pale blue eyes and sharp angles don’t help his cause. He looks like Mr. Burns from the Simpsons but with hair...
My eyes drift to Hammond. His stare at Schmidt could incinerate a hole right through the man.
A ruckus sounds from the front entrance before hurried footsteps track in a guy in a Hawaiian shirt, board shorts, and flip-flops as he bursts into the room and files in beside me. He loses the backpack over his shoulder to the floor. He claspshis hands in front of him, his head up as he stares at nothing. Like that could ensure the entire crew didn’t notice his tardy entrance. You could mistake the guy for a young Elvis Presley. All the way down to the dark floppy hair and the stunning blue eyes.Wow.
“Davies, first day, first infraction. My office after briefing.” Schmidt all but scowls at beach boy.
Davies nods, fastening the last three buttons on his shirt with both hands, like that will make up for his lack of uniform. “Yes sir. Sorry sir. Traffic sir.”
“Don’t care. Shut it.” Schmidt’s gaze pulls away from the disheveled man beside me and scans the rest of the crew. “Your daily duties are on the common room board.”
My attention swings to Hammond.
His dark blond hair is messed up like his hand plowed through it in frustration. His brown eyes hold a steady course on Schmidt, narrowing slightly the more the lieutenant speaks. His huge frame is tense, hands clasped in front of him like... he’s just one of us. His navy shirt, the same as mine, stretches over bulky muscles. His jaw is littered with stubble tha?—
“You will have a fitness check-in every week with Hammond. Any questions?” Schmidt barks.
Nobody breathes a word, only subtle nods.
Hammond flinches, an almost imperceptible movement you’d miss if you weren’t looking.
So, why am I looking?
Chapter 3
MILES
Schmidt—or Schmiddy, as he told me to call him—just commandeered the entire State of the Nation talk on day one of ourdualleadership. Not wanting to cause in-house drama in the first hour of this take-turns gig Cap has us on, I shut my mouth and let him. The ways this shit is going to bite me in the ass later are probably too many to count.
The new recruits, Tennison and the late-arriving Davies, have most likely already assumed I’m the third fucking wheel.
Wonderful.
And Schmidt is full of shit. He transferred out of 41 because of poor work ethic and multiple complaints. The guy is a walking contradiction. How the hell did we end up stuck with him?
“Hammond,” Cap calls out from behind as I stalk my way toward the common area. “Miles, stop.”
I spin back. “The guy is full of it, Cap. If he’s the leadership around here, we’re all fucked.”
He raises a hand. “Look, I know you’re upset, and he did take it too far. That was not the talk we planned, remember.”
Yeah, I remember.
Schmidt and I both sat in Cap’s office ten minutes before lineup and agreed to do a two-part rundown, Schmidt on thehierarchy, me going over the duties and expectations. Except I didn’t get a word in.
“So, you do the talk tomorrow at start of shift and alternate.”
“How does that work when he’s supervisor this week? Not one of us are on the same page. It’s a disaster, and it’s barely begun.”
Not to mention the effect this disjointed, ambiguous leadership will have in the field, when the crew needs to know who to listen to. Who to take orders from.
“If he keeps undercutting me, it’s going to be dangerous for the crew. Not just a damn mess, Cap.”
