To Protect & Serve (17 page)

“What can we do?”

Chief Hayes eyed them. “I need you guys to make sure everyone’s out from the last car forward.”

“Got it,” Gabe said with a nod, and they turned and ran for the back of the line of smashed and twisted vehicles.
How many there were was impossible to know. “I’ll get this one.”

“Is everybody out?” Jeff asked, swinging the first door open. The acrid smell of the used airbag slid into his nostrils. Nobody. He ran past the one Gabe was working on, and yanked on another door, knowing the next ones were going to get progressively harder to open. “Anybody in here?”

Over and over again, down the line he went, and then the doors would no longer open as the cars became pancaked together. “Gabe! There’s somebody in this one!” Jeff called as he yanked on the door that didn’t budge. “Get the hammer. Are you okay in there?” Carefully he knocked on the spidered glass. Movement. “Hang on. We’ll get you out. Gabe, hurry up.” Gabe ran up with the hammer. “Careful.”

A crack, two and the glass gave way. Gabe yanked it back out and away from the driver. When there was a clear shot into the car, Jeff looked through the shards to the middle-aged woman still strapped to the seat. Blood streamed down the side of her face, and her moans wrenched across Jeff’s heart. “Hang on. Okay? We’ll get you out.” Furiously he scraped the forearm of his coat across the window ledge to dislodge the glass. He reached across her and unsnapped the seatbelt. “We’re going to have to pull her out.”

Wails pierced the air coming from every direction imaginable.

“That steering wheel’s going to be a problem,” Gabe said with a shake of his head. “It’s too close. We’re going to have to wait for a ram.”

A moan, and Jeff knew they didn’t have time to wait. “Give me the hammer.”

With concern Gabe handed it over, and Jeff vaulted over the crumpled hood of the car to the other side. Trying to put enough force into his swing to get in quickly and yet not enough to go all the way through to her, he whacked at the passenger’s window. However, when the glass gave way, he knew that he and his gear would never make it into that car as one. Quickly he shed the coat and wound his way through the window, carefully brushing the glass away as he did. “I’ll see if I can get her far enough out,” he called, “so you can pull her out.”

“I’m telling you, you might as well wait for that ram,” Gabe said.

Gabe was right. The steering wheel smacked Jeff on the head on his way down past the dashboard for her feet. “Ow. Crud.”
Undaunted, he slid one hand down into the shallow space at the floorboard and wrapped it around her ankle. A tug and her ankle slid from its perch. “One more.” The second one with only a bit more work, wedged out of the tiny space. “Okay, Gabe. She’s free. Grab her shoulders. Count of three. One, two, three.” The woman’s body slid up through the opening, and suddenly Jeff was the only passenger in the car.

Moving like lightning, he extricated himself, yanked on his coat, and glanced through the early morning light where he caught sight of A.J. running up with his kit to Gabe’s side. There were more to get out, and she was in good hands, so Jeff ran for the next car that didn’t have people swarming it. “Hey, anybody in there?” A gash in the passenger’s side window afforded him a view into the confines of the interior, and opposite it laid the body of a man, arched over the steering wheel. His glazed, dead eyes stared at Jeff blankly. With a gasp Jeff pulled back in hideous revulsion, closed his eyes, and said a quick prayer. “God, take his soul to You.”

“I can still hear her, but she’s panicking,” someone closer to the front called.              

Jeff’s steps carried him past three vehicles that were so mangled, telling what they had been half-an-hour before was all but pointless. “You’ve got somebody?”

“Yeah,” the firefighter who Jeff only then recognized as Hunter said, “but she’s so far down there, the fumes are going to kill her before we can get her out.”

“Can we get her some air?”

“It’s too tight. I can’t get to her.”

“Do we have some air?” Jeff asked again.

“Yeah.” Dante raced up with a bottle and a mask. “But I don’t think…”

It was too late, Jeff already had the bottle and the mask in hand. “How long ‘til more jaws get here?”

“They’re on their way,” Hunter said, pushing back from the wreck.

The hard asphalt met his knees as Jeff dropped to the ground next to the garbled steel of the car that had somehow gone head over heels in the melee. “What’s her name?”

“I don’t know,” Hunter said.

More questions of Hunter would have to wait. “Hey! Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Yes!” Two choked coughs. “Help me! Please!” Through the coughing, he heard the panic and the tears.

“Okay. I’m going to. What’s your name?” Jeff’s hands went to work unwinding the hose from the bottle.

Another cough. “Reagan. Reagan Cooper.”

“Okay, Reagan. Can you see any light from where you are?”

“Umm, yeah, a little.” More coughing and he heard the sniffling too.

“Where?”

“To my… to my left.”

“Great. Good. You’re doing great.”

Her voice floated out to him, sounding hollow and weak. “Something’s on my shoulder. I can feel it.”

“Okay, we’ll have to deal with that in a minute. For right now, I’m going to pass this little mask through this hole. Can you still see light?”

“Umm, yeah, no. Yeah, but not where it was.”

“Good. I’m going to work this thing in to you. Tell me when you get it. Okay?” He laid down on the black top and wedged himself into the small angle of sheered metal.

“It’s so dark in here, and I can’t feel my leg.”

“One step at a time, Reagan. Stay with me, girl. Can you see the hose?”

“Everything’s just so dark.”

“Dear God, please,” Jeff breathed, pushing his arm as far into the hole as it could possibly go. The fumes of the ruptured gasoline tanks threatened to take his own oxygen, but he fought off that thought.

“Here. Here it is.”

“Thank You, God. Good. Now put the mask on, and we’ll give you some air.” He motioned for Dante to turn on the air. “You getting anything?” Soft words but he couldn’t make them out. “Reagan?”

“I can feel the blood,” she said, and the panic had returned although the haze surrounding the voice nearly melted it out.

“They’re here,” Dante said, and Jeff looked back as three more fire trucks made it to the scene.

“Thank God. Hang on, Reagan. We’ll have you out of there…”

“What’s your name?” the soft voice drifted out to him.

“Jeff.”

Silence. And then a small gasp. “Jeff, can you tell my parents… Jim and Mary Cooper… can you tell them that I love them?”

“Reagan? Now you listen to me. You hang on, girl, the guys are here to get you out.”

“Tell them for me, okay?”

“Don’t give up on me now. They’re here. They’re right here.”

“Please, Jeff... Please, tell them for me.”

He breathed, feeling the very life in that car slip away. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll tell them.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”             

“Jeff,” Dante said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re going to have to move,” a firefighter said as he and a partner came up with a cutter. “You’re going to have to move.”

How he didn’t know, but Jeff stood and backed away. They were too late. Reagan was already gone.

“Ramirez! Taylor! We need you over here. This fuel’s got trouble written all over it.”

With one glance at the small opening he had just vacated, Jeff turned. “Coming.”

Exhaustion—emotional, physical, mental—crowded over him as he sat on the little bench in the locker room so many hours later, he couldn’t count them all. He was vaguely sure that five o’clock rush hour would soon take over the scene they had worked all day, but even that was just a hazy thought mixed with all the others. Slowly he pulled the chain out of the locker and looked at it.

“Good job out there,” Gabe said as he stopped at his locker next to Jeff’s.

“Yeah.” Needing something, Jeff yanked the chain over his head and let out a long breath.

“I kind of lost you after we pulled that one out.” Knowingly Gabe sat down next to Jeff. “You go help
up the front?”

Jeff nodded. “
Yeah. We weren’t so lucky up there.”

Slowly Gabe’s head moved up and down. “That’s the breaks of this job. You aren’t going to get them all out.”

Breathing hurt. Living hurt. “Does it ever get any easier?”

“Wish I could tell you it does, but I’ve been doing this for almost eight years, and every time you lose somebody it’s like ripping your heart out and stomping
all over it.”

“Great. Something to look forward to.”

Gabe smiled softly. “Hang on to the ones you get out. They’re what makes this worth it.”

“Think I’m going to head up and catch a few winks. Unless somebody needs something else.”

Gabe smiled sympathetically. “Go on. Get some rest.”

The next morning when Jeff stepped out into the sunshine, the sirens were still blaring through his brain. The newness of the morning permeated every piece of air so that it felt soft as it brushed past him. He got in his car and gripped the wheel. How much time had Reagan had to react? A blink? Less? Those thoughts dogged every step he had taken since he’d walked away from that car, and still they hounded him.

He reached down and started the car, trying not to think, trying not to replay the sound of her soft voice and the sight of the horrible, bloody mess they had finally pulled out of that wreck. He was sure she was beautiful. A carefree college student on her way to morning class. His car picked up speed as he merged onto the freeway. The tears blurred the cars around him. If they just could’ve gotten to her sooner, if somehow he could’ve gotten in there to stop the bleeding, then maybe things would’ve been different. Then maybe…

Hard, his hand hit the steering wheel. “I needed your help, God. Cripes! Reagan needed you. Where were You? Huh? Where?”

All day Wednesday Jeff tried to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, the scene was right there. Finally at three in the afternoon he got up, got dressed, grabbed a phone book, and went out to his car. He had made a promise, and if nothing else, he kept the promises he had any control over keeping.

Knowing that his eyes were a mix of sadness and exhaustion, he put
on his sunglasses in defense against the sun. He drove, the address imprinted on his heart. Just before he reached the neighborhood turn, he saw the little flower shop, and his hands said they would really like to have something to hold when he got there.

After the short stop, he turned the GTO onto the little street and around several turns. When the car rounded the last turn, he knew exactly which house it was—the one with the myriad of cars parked out front. His promise pulled him forward as he parked and walked up to the door. If it could’ve been any other way… The front door opened, and suddenly Jeff had no idea what he was supposed to say to the lady standing there. “Hi. Umm, I’m Jeff Taylor. I’m with the fire department.” His hand swiped off the sunglasses. “I just wanted to come by and give my condolences.”

The skepticism in the lady’s tearstained eyes gave way to gratefulness. She pushed the door wider. “Please, come on in.”

As they crossed into the living room, Jeff had no doubt which one was Reagan’s mother. She sat in one corner, surrounded by people and yet not at all in reality.

“Mary,” the lady said, leading Jeff over, “this young man is from the fire department.”

With grief-stricken eyes the lady in the chair, looking far older than he knew she was, looked up at him, and the words in his head evaporated.

“Ma’am,” he said slowly willing himself to find the words he did not want to deliver, and then he held the small white rose out to her, “I wanted to come by and tell you about your daughter.” Carefully he sat on the footstool in front of her because his legs felt like they might give way at any moment. “Umm, I got to talk to her right before…” Pain surged through him, but he pushed that down. “Reagan wanted me to tell you that she loved you—you and her dad.” His gaze dropped from the woman’s face as the knowledge of how completely insignificant this was now crashed over him. “I’m very sorry for your loss, but I thought you should know she was thinking of you.”

Tears, gallons of them, buckets of them, lined up at the back of his head, but he was a firefighter and he was on a mission. Tears had no place here.

“You… you talked to my Reagan?” the lady asked weakly.

“Yes, Ma’am, I did. She was very brave.”

“And she said she loved me?”

“Yes, Ma’am, she did.”

The hand reached from the center of her chair to grip his. “Thank you. Thank you so much for coming.”

Jeff didn’t want to be thanked. No, he wanted to give back every thanks in the whole world so that mother could have her daughter back. Grief poured over him as he drove to Lisa’s without even bothering to think about where he was going. She didn’t want to see him like this, he was sure of that, but he needed somebody to hold onto for fear that he would fall right into the pit that threatened to suck him into it
once again.

At her apartment he realized he was almost 45 minutes early, so rather than go up and wait in a dark hallway, he sat down by the little tree in the courtyard
directly below her apartment. Worn out, he leaned back onto the tiny circle of the trunk, closed his eyes, and relaxed. Somehow he had always focused on those he could get out, those he could save. Somehow those he wouldn’t had never really entered his mind. Standing up and going forward after losing one would take more strength than simply carrying 100 pounds of gear. This strength required far more, and he wondered if he had what it would take.

“What? Are you holding up trees now too?” her voice cut through the still air around him, and as Jeff looked up into her angelic face, his heart turned over. The smile fell from her face. “What’s wrong?”

Awkwardly he stumbled to his feet. “You’re early.”

“Yeah, and you look like you just got hit by a truck.” It was supposed to be a joke, but it ran right over his spirit.

His gaze dropped to the grass. “Can we talk... upstairs?”

Worry slipped over her features. “Yeah.”

All of her thoughts for a wonderful romantic meal went right out of Lisa’s head the second she saw him. So when they got into her apartment, she threw a handful of spaghetti in some water and dumped a jar of sauce into another pan. Then she went into the living room where he sat, head down on the couch, and carefully she folded herself next to him. “The wreck?”

He nodded.

Oh, Lord, help. What do I do now?
“It was bad.”

Even slower he nodded. When he looked at her, the anguish in his eyes cut her to the core. Softly she reached over and put both arms around him as he collapsed into her.

The whole evening he was so quiet, a few words, a small smile, but the melancholy followed him with every step he took. At the door later Lisa noticed how his hands didn’t even have the energy to get to his pockets. Gently her hand bridged the gap between them and took his. “You going to be okay?”

He tried to smile, but the liquid in his eyes gave him away. “Yeah.”

Slowly she laid her head on the doorpost, knowing if she didn’t know he had made it home, she would never sleep. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

“Call?”

“So I know you made it.”

A half-inch at a time he nodded, and then he turned and ambled to the steps. Down. Down, and she could see him no longer. She waited but no hand slapped the wall, and after several long moments she heard the door at the bottom snap open. Her head fell forward. If she only knew what to say to take the sadness away…

Without turning any lights on in the apartment, Jeff threw his keys onto the table and collapsed in a heap on the couch. His hands swiped over his face, and he sniffed.
Call her.

Her. The tether keeping him from falling right through the void in his heart. He reached over, picked up the phone, and dialed.

“Hello?”

The middle of his heart bounced softly. “I made it.”

“Good. You going to be able to sleep?”

“I think so.”

“Well, if it gets to be four and you need someone to talk to, you know how to reach me.”

His chest filled with the invitation. “I may have to keep that in mind.”

It wasn’t four in the morning, it was three the next afternoon when exercising and watching television had used up their ability to keep his mind occupied. He really needed to talk to somebody, but she was working, and although she was great about him showing up to help, he knew he couldn’t make a habit out of it. So instead he picked up the phone and called the other name on his short list.

“Knox residence.”

“Dustin, man, how’s it going?”

“Jeffrey, hey. Just the man I was going to call later.”

“Uh-oh.”

“No, this is good.”

“Bigger uh-oh.”

“Listen, the station’s softball team’s playing this weekend, and we’ve got people dropping
out like flies.”

“What did you do to them?”

“Me? Jeffrey, I’m hurt.”

“Sure you are.”

“We need a left fielder for Saturday. Noon. You up for it?”

He needed something. “Sure.”

Jeff hadn’t bothered to tell Dustin he would be bringing a friend. The questions that would raise sent the hairs on the back of his neck reaching for the stratosphere. No, a better idea would be to just show up with her. Dustin would be smart enough to keep his comments to a minimum while Lisa was around—of that much Jeff was sure.

Asking her wasn’t all that difficult, even calling her was getting easier, and when he picked her up, the feeling of the world being right again descended on him. In fact it wasn’t until they pulled into the little softball field lot that he really started to get nervous. He parked, hoping Dustin would be too busy to notice they had arrived until Lisa was safely in the stands.

“Jeffrey!” the voice called from behind him as they stood at the car’s trunk, pulling out the little cooler, Jeff’s equipment, and the sunscreen. In the next heartbeat Dustin was there, hand raised in greeting. Jeff reached up and slapped the hand. “Cool. I was wondering if you got lost—my wonderful directions and all.” It was then that Dustin stopped in mini-reunion. With one hand at her eyes to block the sun, Lisa smiled up at him. “Well, now, Mr. Taylor, I wasn’t aware you were bringing the cheerleaders.”

Jeff wanted to deck him. If Dustin said something to mess this up…

“It’s Lisa, right?” Dustin asked, extending a hand and a smile.

“Yeah.” She shook his hand. “I thought you might be able to use an extra fan.”

“Always room in our stands for a fan like you.”

Together the three of them walked over to the bleachers. Lisa slid her stuff up onto the fourth one up, and when she stepped up to the first riser, Jeff took her hand and helped her the rest of the way up. “You going to be okay here?”

“I’m great,” she said, sitting down with her hands in her lap, smiling.

“Eve should be here before long,” Dustin said. “She can keep you company.”

“Knox! Hey, you going to warm up or what?” one of the players called from the fence.

“You ready?” Dustin asked Jeff.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Thankfully Dustin took the hint and faded from the conversation over to the dugout.

“You sure this is cool?” Jeff asked, realizing she was going to be sitting in a whole bleacherful of people that she didn’t know.

“I’m fine. Go have fun.”

And he didn’t miss the way she said that word.

Bases, innings, bats, balls—Lisa wasn’t much of a sports fan and even less of a baseball fan, so she listened to the fans behind her and cheered when they cheered. When the guys took the field, position-by-position she surveyed them until finally she picked Jeff out in the far open grassy area straight ahead of her.

“Let’s go, Fire Department!” she yelled, mimicking her fellow fans, and she clapped for emphasis. “Strike him out.” Whatever that meant. A pitch and everybody cheered. She clapped, having no idea why. It didn’t matter. She was too enthralled with the guy standing out in the middle of nowhere waiting—just in case the ball happened to come his way.

He looked happier today. At least the light was back in his eyes.

A crack and the ball sailed out, right to him. She stood, following the ball in its arc and right into his glove. “Yea!” He had such good hands.

Down 5-4 in the top of the last inning, Jeff grabbed a bat and swung it over his shoulders to loosen them up. “Come on, Dustin. Just a hit, man. That’s all we need.”

At the plate Dustin set his stance and waited for the pitch. Over the plate and right into the catcher’s glove the pitch sailed.

“Strike,” the ump called, and the fans behind Jeff groaned.

“That’s okay. That’s okay. Shake it off. Now you know where he throws.”

Another pitch, in the air, and it dropped right past Dustin’s bat. Instantly Jeff saw the frustration crawl across Dustin’s face.

“Hey, man. No big deal. All you need is one.” For a second, Jeff looked across the field at his lone cheerleader and his heart jumped. “Just one.”

With a breath Dustin refocused on the pitcher, and the next pitch connected with the center of his bat.

“Yes!” Before the centerfielder even got to the ball, Dustin was around first. However, the guy’s arm was amazing, and Dustin had to pull up on second.

“That’s what we needed!” Jeff said with a nod. Then he put on his game face, hit each of his shoes with the bat, and stepped to the plate.

“Hey, it’s Lisa, isn’t it?” the lovely lady with the olive-toned skin and wavy black hair that streamed halfway down her back said at Lisa’s knee as Lisa clapped for Dustin’s hit.

“Hey, Eve. You missed it. Dustin just sailed one.”

Eve ducked under the railing and climbed up into the stands without bothering with the steps.

“Jeff’s up,” Lisa said, clapping. “Come on, Jeff! You can do this!”

The ball went up and down across the plate. “Strike.”

“It’s okay,” she said, clapping again. “It’s okay.”

Softly he hit the bat twice on home plate, swung it once slowly, and looked out to the pitcher. Every piece of attention that was hers was focused solely on him. On his bat. On his hands. On his arms. Focused so it was she who saw the ball arch toward him. Focused so that like watching a dancer in perfect time, she saw the bat swing around his body and meet the ball coming the other way with a solid crack.