Hammer and I stand outside the fire station. Our first shift is about to start. As we’re early, we take in the large, red brick one-story structure that occupies half of a block. This’ll be our second home. Our second family for a good long time, if we’re lucky. We’re walking in with years of experience, but that can turn out to be a good or bad thing, depending on the men inside.

And women.

Ember specifically.

On the upside, she gets it. We’ve got to keep our distance, and she knows the stakes. That’s a good thing.

“You ready?” Hammer asks as he picks up his duffel bag from the back of the SUV.

I take it all in for another few moments. All three bay doors are open. A fire truck, fire engine, and ambulance van are parked inside. Men from the shift we’re about to relieve are packing up turnout gear, testing a pump on the engine, and checking equipment on the truck. It’s not much different from the firehouse we left. All we can hope for is a fair shot, and not too much ball breaking on our first day on the job.

“Hell yeah,” I answer after some time. Setting aside any apprehension, I step up on the pavement. “Let’s do this.”

As we enter through the middle bay door, Hammer nods to the first person to look our way.

“Morning. We’re the new transfers from Austin. I’m Hammer, and this is Deuce,” he says, introducing us by the names we prefer to be called. Using last names is customary around firehouses, so the only way for a different name to stick is if we use it repeatedly right out of the gate.

The man glances over at us. One look and I know he’s got rank. It’s not the fact that he stands taller and seems more imposing than both of us. It’s not the sleeve of ink he’s got on one arm, or the seriousness on his dark features. It’s just a look. I can tell authority from a mile away.

“Good. You’re early,” he replies, returning a mild smile. He extends his arm for a handshake. “I’m Lieutenant Mike Davis. You’ll both report to me.”

“It’s a pleasure, Lieutenant,” I say and shake his hand, aware that his assessment of us has already begun.

“Call me Davis.” He turns and heads toward the back of the bay area. “Come with me.”

We follow him through the door marked ‘Turnout Gear’, and he points at some empty hooks between the firefighter jackets, pants and other uniform pieces in the middle of the narrow room. “Take any of those free spots. You each get a new set of turnout gear. Just check inside that container at the back after we’re done.”

“Will do,” I reply.

Davis turns and heads out again. “Follow me. I’ll show you around and take you to meet the Chief.”

He picks up his stride and leads us into the station, pointing out the administrative offices, then the dining hall and kitchen, TV room, locker area and showers, bunks, and restrooms. As we circle back to the locker room, he pushes the door open. “Which one of you is Randall and which is West?”

“I’m West, Lieutenant,” I tell him. “I prefer the name Deuce.”

“Why Deuce?”

“He plays a mean game of poker,” Hammer answers for me.

Davis turns to look over at him. “And you’re Hammer because...?”

“Let’s just say I’m good with a sledgehammer,” Hammer says without a hint of arrogance. “I can swing a mean ax when it counts too.”

I’m itching to add that he also gets his nickname from the size of what he’s packing between his legs, but I keep that to myself.

“A mean ax, huh? All right. We’ll see soon enough.” Davis takes us back to the bay and points out the guys we’ll be working with for our shift. “This is Hammer and Deuce from Austin,” he announces to the men, who stop working on the daily tests on their respirator masks and oxygen tanks. They’re just as relaxed now as they were before Davis walked up to them, so I take it to mean that Davis must be a friendly enough team leader if they’re all comfortable with him.

“Good to meet you,” Hammer says, and I echo the greeting.

“That’s Carlson with the mask. Boon’s in the middle, and Whelan’s the lanky one with the blond hair and half empty oxygen tank...which he’s going to switch out now, right Whelan?”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Whelan answers, chuckling as the rest of them acknowledge us with a silent nod. “But how can you tell it’s empty from all the way over there?”

“Just a hunch,” Davis answers with a smile.

The six of us will be working side by side, so I take as much time as Davis will allow, to get a reading of each of them. It’s a brief meeting, but none of them gives us the stink eye. That’s a promising sign.

“Let’s go meet Chief Robertson before things get too busy,” Davis continues, and motions for us to follow him back inside.

We take a different hallway to the chief’s office, and just as Davis raises his hand to knock on the door, the firehouse alarms sound out. We all stop and listen carefully, waiting for the station-wide PA system to call out the nature of the emergency call and who’s needed. The call is for the ambulance only. Davis relaxes and knocks twice on the Chief’s door, ignoring the blaring sound of ambulance sirens as the paramedics drive out of the bays to answer the call.

“Come on in,” says the male voice from the other side of the door.

“These are the transfers, Chief,” Davis announces as he walks in. “West and Randall...but they like going by Deuce and Hammer. Hammer, Deuce, this is Chief Denton Robertson.”

“It’s great to meet you,” I say. “And we’re excited for the opportunity.”

The chief lifts his head up from something he’s reading on his computer screen. “Welcome to Firehouse number eleven. West, you look just like your old man.”

“I get that a lot, Chief.”

“Try to live up to his reputation as well,” he says. “Your father and I went all through fire academy together. We did a stint as hose men in Truckee for a few years way back when. He was damn good in his day. We both were.” He moves his gaze to Hammer. “I hear good things about you too, Randall. Your old Chief out in Austin went to bat for you.”

Hammer nods. “I’ll work hard to keep it up.”

“Good. All you’ve got to do around here is keep your head down, put in the effort, and stay in line with whatever Davis tells you.”

“We will, Sir,” Hammer confirms again.

“As the two of you have worked out of Austin, we’re adding fourteen years of subtropical firefighting experience to our ranks. To me, that beats adding a brand-new candidate any day. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to keep learning. Hammer, is it?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“And Deuce,” I add, but already suspect the chief will end up calling me by my last name because he’s friends with my father.

“Hammer and Deuce it is.” The chief passes two folders to Davis. “Take these files to Ember. She can get started with their payroll.”

“Will do.”

“She’ll take care of everything. You know, the usual onboarding paperwork and building access details, upcoming furlough approvals…”

“No problem, Chief,” Davis answers, and turns to leave when the chief dismisses us.

“Thanks again, Chief,” Hammer and I say and follow Davis out and down a narrow hallway that leads away from the firefighters’ quarters.

I’m a bit nervous. We’re on our way to see Ember and we’ll need to act like it’s the first time we’re meeting her. I prepare myself to avoid giving off any hints that I’ve met her before. We can’t afford to risk even admitting that.

“Hey Ember, got a second?” Davis asks when he gets to her desk, but doesn’t wait for her answer. “This is Randall and West, the Austin transfers. They’ll go by Hammer and Deuce. Can you—”

Lucky for us, as Davis starts to plop down our transfer documents and employee files in the folders, the firehouse alarms blare out again. This time, the station-wide PA system announces a residential house fire that calls for a fire truck, fire engine, an ambulance and the Battalion Chief.

“We’ll get back to you on this,” Davis says to Ember, quickly turning to face us for a split second then hurrying past us. “Follow me, men. You can observe for this call, but I want you both in gear.”

“Not a problem,” I answer, giving Ember a brief nod before following him. “We can be ready right away if our gear’s handy.”

We move quickly to the turnout gear room, kick off our shoes, and are in head to toe firefighter gear in less than a minute.

Everyone else is already on the fire truck. The fire engine and ambulance roll out before us, but we’re not far behind.

I glance at the faces around me. Lieutenant Davis is in the front passenger seat, his dark features seeming more intense as we draw closer to danger. Jeff Boon’s in the driver seat, his brown hair blowing at the sides under his helmet with every sudden movement of the truck. He’s laser-focused, hauling ass as he navigates around vehicles on the local streets to get to the residential fire. Dillon Carlson sits facing back at me from his spot behind the driver seat. He places his helmet over his blond hair and looks out the window with sky blue eyes that I know are only thinking of three things. Get to the fire, rescue anyone needing help, and end the emergency.

Luke Whelan’s beside Carlson. Now this guy, I’m still working to figure out. He’s got a one-sided smirk on his face, eyeing Hammer and me like we’re someone’s next meal. Hammer’s beside me, eyes forward, staring at nothing in particular as he gets his mind right. We’re only observing during this emergency call, but that can change depending on what we find out when we arrive at the scene.

“Wind conditions are all over the place today,” Davis says, turning to look at all of us in the cab of the fire truck. “Be ready for this fire to jump to adjacent structures. But more important than that, don’t take any unnecessary risk, and when I say it’s time to get out, don’t wait a second longer than I tell you. Understood?”

Everyone nods around us. Then Davis looks at Hammer and me. “As we haven’t done a proper assessment on the two of you, you’re observing. That means you don’t move any further than ten feet from where I tell you to be.” He motions over at Boon at the wheel. “Boon’s on ladder duty. Do whatever he says, unless the Chief or I tell you different.

“Got it, Lieutenant,” Hammer answers.

“Whelan’s usually on vent or hose duty with one of the crew from the fire engine. Carlson’s with me on search and rescue, and on ladder later on, depending on what we find.” Davis’s expression gets intense. “Like the Chief said, you’ve got experience under your belt. But you’ve got lots to learn about the kinds of calls we deal with out here. It’s the winter now, so it’s not as grueling as the summer months, but wind and drought conditions are the biggest things we fight, along with these fires. My bet is you’ll find out real quick that fires out here in North Nevada burn faster, and are more destructive than anything you’ve seen in Texas. They can eat up a house in minutes. It’s just drier out here. Sometimes a fire builds so fast that we have to forget about fighting it. We go right to saving lives and containing the blaze. To slow it down instead of stopping it. Property loss is the lowest priority if we reach the point where we know for sure that we can’t get out in front of the problem. Got it?”

“Got it,” Hammer repeats.

“Make sense to me,” I answer as Davis faces forward again.

I know exactly what he’s talking about because I’m from out here. I’ve seen it first hand, back when my father was a firefighter.

A fire can be like a monster out here in desert country. It destroys, devastates and devours. But knowing that, it gets my adrenaline pumping. I can’t wait to face my first Nevada fire now that we’re working out here. A quick glance at Hammer and I can tell he’s eager to get day one out of the way too.

We’re ready to fucking kill this monster.