Eeee-oooh! Eeee-oooh!

The siren blasts a warning to other drivers to get out of the way as we race across town. The lights on the truck paint everything in a red hue as we blast by to the house fire that was reported on Maple Street.

Jake easily navigates the narrow roads in the old neighborhood, making it look easy to squeeze this monster thirty-two-foot pumper in past the cars that litter the curbside, parked for the night on the edge of the road.

As we pull up on Maple, I squint at the ball of flames reaching for the night sky. The orange blaze is huge and out of control, but it’s not the house that’s on fire. It’s the car. As soon as Jake brakes, we’re jumping out and rigging the hose. This fire is dangerously close to the house.

I walk around the area, looking for any people who might be in danger. I make my way around the perimeter of the fireball and almost mow over a couple who is standing stupidly close to the flickering flames.

“I swear to God, Ray, I’ll set everything you own on fire! You cheating son-of-a-bitch!” The woman with the white, cropped pants and bleach blond hair pushes him.

“You crazy bitch, I never shoulda married you. I told you a million times it was nothing. She was nothing to me, baby. I can’t believe you fucking did this. You’re going to jail, you know. They’re finally going to lock you up!” A middle-aged man with thinning hair and a pot belly screams at her. His face is so red he looks like we might need an ambulance on the scene here soon, probably for a heart attack.

“Listen, folks, I need you both to take this, uh, discussion, out of here. We’ve got to get this put out before it spreads to the house.” I point to the narrowing gap between the arching, hungry flames and their roof.

“Good, I hope they do lock me up. Lord knows I’ll be happier in prison than with you. At least I won’t spend all my nights lonely and wondering who the fuck you’re out banging.” The woman’s face is twisted with fury, but in her brown eyes I can see pain flickering under the surface.

“My poor baby.” Her husband mournfully stares at his car. Well, it was a car. Now it’s a raging fire that has the potential to threaten this whole street. “How could you do this?” The edge is gone from his voice. “You know how hard I worked for that BMW.” He slumps forward in defeat.

“Yeah, almost as hard as I worked on this marriage,” she shoots back. “The only thing you ever loved was that fucking car. Now you know what it’s like to have your heart broken.” She turns on her heel and marches away. Even with her back to us, I can see her rub the heels of her hands over her eyes to wipe away tears. It might be from the smoke, but I doubt it.

“Sir?” I nod at the cheating husband, knocking him out of the trance he’s in.

“Yeah? Oh, sure, I’ll go.” He shuffles away slowly.

She obviously did hit him where it hurts. You can see the ache in his soul with each slow step he takes away from his burned-out shell of a car.

With the happy couple out of the way, I rush back over to the truck and let the guys know it’s all clear. I take my place on the hose and we gush a tidal wave of water over the fire. It doesn’t take long to contain. The trickiest part is keeping it directed just on the car and not giving the house any water damage with the powerful blast.

Once we’ve forced the fire into submission, we check to make sure there’s no chance it will reignite. A thorough check of the car is done and the surrounding area. The last thing we need is to be called back in an hour because of some electrical sparks or cinders that jumped to the garage. Finally we’re all clear and ready to go.

The hose is coiled and the only evidence that we’ve even been here is the burned-out BMW skeleton, now dripping with foam and water. The cops have their car snuggled up behind us on the curb and this has now gone from an emergency scene to a crime scene. I glance over at the scorned woman as she gives her animated statement to the female officer. Then I check out the husband who couldn’t keep it in his pants and paid the price. He’s practically underwater, he’s moving so slow. His sole focus is still on what used to be his car. He looks at it with that same shell-shocked expression some people have when they look at a body bag.

“Let’s head out!” Jake calls from the truck and I spring back into action, joining my team. We head back without any sirens. Without any urgency. It’s pretty late, so I think most of us are just looking forward to hitting our bunks.

By the time we’ve put everything away and decontaminated, I’m just about ready to belly flop down on my bed and pass out. It’s gotta be getting close to three in the morning now. My bunk is singing me a sweet siren song with the promise of the best sleep. I float over, ready to give in, when a light across the way catches my eye.

Isn’t that Kelly’s place? Yeah, of course it is. I connect the dots and stand tall, peering into her lit up window. It’s awfully late for her to be up, isn’t it?

I try to remember if she said she’d be staying there right away. It usually takes a bit to unpack. And a moving truck parked outside a house can be a hell of an incentive for looters. Suddenly a jolt of adrenaline zaps through me and I have a second wave of energy. If someone is breaking into her place, I should go check it out.

Heading toward the door, I pass Zach’s bunk. “Hey, man, you up?” I whisper.

“Barely,” he groans.

“There’s a light on at Kelly’s. I’m gonna take a quick look to make sure someone hasn’t broken in over there.”

“What time is it?” he mumbles.

“Almost three.”

For a moment he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t move or do anything. I figure he’s drifted back to sleep and start to creep out of the room when he suddenly sits up straight and hops out of bed.

“All right, lemme grab some pants, for fuck’s sake.”