Fire Department
Chapter Twelve
Mon/June/2008 07:00 AM Chapter 1/2Chapter 12
Chapter 12 -
B-OO-M!
Fire trucks were swarming the building now. Sam Ballard’s eyes scanned the street as he expertly maneuvered his Blazer around the cars in front of him. The lights on the roof of his vehicle spun off around him, red and blue, then bounced back at him from the windshields of the surrounding cars. He cut the wheel from left to right sharply. Sirens blared in every direction, coming at him from side streets, from up ahead, and racing up from behind. Traffic was getting wild. Drivers didn’t seem to know which way to turn next.
He’d been the Fire Chief for the University and the surrounding neighborhoods for the last ten years. About once a week, every week, every year for as long as he’d had the position, some sort of alarm had gone off at the college. They were mostly false alarms. Kids would pull them to watch the strobe lights going off like a Christmas tree from outside the building. New researchers would leave some damn thing roasting over a Bunsen burner ‘til the sprinklers went off or the smell cleared the place out. Sure, there were one or two actual fires that broke out each year, but though he always told people to treat every alarm like an honest to God emergency, he admitted that more often than not, he and his men showed up in their gear, inspected the buildings, then reset the systems and filed a report for a false alarm.
Today felt different somehow. This didn’t feel like another false alarm.
He swerved the wheel to the left and gunned the engine. Depending on which buildings were in question, they had set locations from which to direct emergency operations. This alarm was coming from the main facility, the heart of the hospital, from which a series of wings flailed outward. Sam would get to park in his favorite spot. The hospital had a valet service for hospital visitors coming to see patients. The entrance was a little half loop that branched off from the road in front of the building. A lot of people used the service when they came to take their loved ones home too. There were numerous handicap access ramps cut into the pavement. Sam turned into the loop. People were swarming out of the building, some looked confused, others scared. They were all on their cell phones. Sam aimed for a handicap ramp and stomped on the gas. His tires caught the edges slightly, but the Blazer forced its way up and over. He slammed on the brakes, his vehicle swerving slightly as his tires squealed to a stop on the sidewalk. There were probably some cool skid marks on the ground behind him, unfortunately, there was no time to look. He hopped out of the cab and headed toward a police officer who had also parked on the sidewalk. The guy was in his mid-fifties, same salt and pepper hair as Sam, minus the walrus moustache. Mark Price, chief of police. Mark was talking into his radio as Sam approached. Just as Price looked up to say something to him, a massive explosion rang out behind them.
B-OO-M!
It felt about a block away. The ground rumbled beneath their feet. Sam looked over his shoulder at the huge construction crane hanging over the far wing of the building. A fireball roared up into the air, engulfing the crane’s metal arm.
Mark’s gaze followed the spire of flame that twirled up into the air. He raised his radio again, clicking the button and releasing a gasp of static.
“Guys, what the hell was that?”
* * *
Morgan was just rushing out the fire exits when she saw the accident. It was like something out of a movie. The crowd was pushing through the doors, then milling about in the building’s courtyard. They were on the side facing the back driveway leading into the hospital, where the road looped down along Lake Union as it swept into the main parking garage. It was sunny. That was what caught her off guard. Amidst the fear of the events going on inside, after seeing two men with guns securing the fire doors upstairs, while her heart pounded harder and harder in her chest, as she realized that this was serious, deadly serious, amidst all of this, the sun had broken through the clouds and was shining on the crowd of people outside. People who probably assumed that everything was normal. Just another drill. The sunlight made her look up and follow the beams of light shooting down at the cars on the highway. Then she heard a truck slam on its brakes and turned to follow the sound of squealing brakes as everything around her slowed down. Morgan and the crowd could only watch in dismay as a line of cars stopped along the main road was slowly and methodically twisted, crunched, and plowed out of the way by a big rig truck, one hauling what looked to be a petroleum tanker behind it. Petroleum, gas, whatever it was, it had the little signs on the sides, the bright orange triangles with the dancing flames. Morgan heard herself gasp. A woman behind her screamed. Then the crowd started running for cover.
The truck’s brakes shrieked as its tires locked up and skidded across the pavement. The driver pulled the horn as the tanker careened back and forth behind the rig, smashing into cars and sending them shooting off to the sides. The sounds of smashing glass and screeching metal were deafening. Then the driver either jerked the wheel too far to the side or lost complete control, for the truck took a sharp turn to the left, jumped the barrier in the middle of the road, and cut across the path of oncoming traffic, where it clipped a hatchback, sending the vehicle spinning ahead like a top. The little car’s tires blew out a moment before the rig caught up to it, sweeping the car against it’s grill and driving it forward as sparks shot from the tortured rims. The car skittered back and forth against the speed before breaking free and spinning out to safety. The truck hopped the curb and picked up speed. Morgan caught a glimpse of the driver as he opened the cab door, leapt to freedom, and tumbled in the dirt a split second before the tanker’s back tires plowed over his legs. Above the chaos, Morgan could hear the man’s scream as the bones in his legs exploded.
The truck continued on, picking up speed now, seemingly possessed by a phantom driver, its front wheels turning back and forth wildly as it drove over the uneven soil. The tanker followed behind, it’s hitch twisting and pulling with each impact. All at once, the crowd saw where the truck was going and a gasp rose up from the mass of people. Construction crews were hard at work on the new wing of the hospital. The iron and glass skeleton of the new building stood a block or so away. Men in hard hats stood atop the half completed structure, watching the truck in horror as it ran out of ground. The cab turned in on itself, the bumper and grill digging into the dirt, sending a geyser of sand and gravel roaring up into the air.
Construction workers were running for cover.
Then-
Impact.
The briefest pause, and…
F-OoOom!
The tanker hit the back of the truck, twisted to the side, and slammed into the base of the construction crane that towered over the site. The tanker’s metal skin peeled away as its jelly-like contents blasted out, then ignited. The explosion blew out what windows had already been installed. Flames engulfed the base of the crane, shooting up into the sky as the paint blistered away from the metal base.
Workers fled the building, running for safety and heading for the elevators at the far end of the site. The crowd behind the hospital watching warily, unsure where to go or what might happen next. Their eyes moved from the flames at the base of the crane to the massive arm that hung a dozen or so stories above them. The sounds of protesting metal began to fill the air, drawing their eyes back to the base, now engulfed in fire.
The crowd started running.
Fire trucks were swarming the building now. Sam Ballard’s eyes scanned the street as he expertly maneuvered his Blazer around the cars in front of him. The lights on the roof of his vehicle spun off around him, red and blue, then bounced back at him from the windshields of the surrounding cars. He cut the wheel from left to right sharply. Sirens blared in every direction, coming at him from side streets, from up ahead, and racing up from behind. Traffic was getting wild. Drivers didn’t seem to know which way to turn next.
He’d been the Fire Chief for the University and the surrounding neighborhoods for the last ten years. About once a week, every week, every year for as long as he’d had the position, some sort of alarm had gone off at the college. They were mostly false alarms. Kids would pull them to watch the strobe lights going off like a Christmas tree from outside the building. New researchers would leave some damn thing roasting over a Bunsen burner ‘til the sprinklers went off or the smell cleared the place out. Sure, there were one or two actual fires that broke out each year, but though he always told people to treat every alarm like an honest to God emergency, he admitted that more often than not, he and his men showed up in their gear, inspected the buildings, then reset the systems and filed a report for a false alarm.
Today felt different somehow. This didn’t feel like another false alarm.
He swerved the wheel to the left and gunned the engine. Depending on which buildings were in question, they had set locations from which to direct emergency operations. This alarm was coming from the main facility, the heart of the hospital, from which a series of wings flailed outward. Sam would get to park in his favorite spot. The hospital had a valet service for hospital visitors coming to see patients. The entrance was a little half loop that branched off from the road in front of the building. A lot of people used the service when they came to take their loved ones home too. There were numerous handicap access ramps cut into the pavement. Sam turned into the loop. People were swarming out of the building, some looked confused, others scared. They were all on their cell phones. Sam aimed for a handicap ramp and stomped on the gas. His tires caught the edges slightly, but the Blazer forced its way up and over. He slammed on the brakes, his vehicle swerving slightly as his tires squealed to a stop on the sidewalk. There were probably some cool skid marks on the ground behind him, unfortunately, there was no time to look. He hopped out of the cab and headed toward a police officer who had also parked on the sidewalk. The guy was in his mid-fifties, same salt and pepper hair as Sam, minus the walrus moustache. Mark Price, chief of police. Mark was talking into his radio as Sam approached. Just as Price looked up to say something to him, a massive explosion rang out behind them.
B-OO-M!
It felt about a block away. The ground rumbled beneath their feet. Sam looked over his shoulder at the huge construction crane hanging over the far wing of the building. A fireball roared up into the air, engulfing the crane’s metal arm.
Mark’s gaze followed the spire of flame that twirled up into the air. He raised his radio again, clicking the button and releasing a gasp of static.
“Guys, what the hell was that?”
* * *
Morgan was just rushing out the fire exits when she saw the accident. It was like something out of a movie. The crowd was pushing through the doors, then milling about in the building’s courtyard. They were on the side facing the back driveway leading into the hospital, where the road looped down along Lake Union as it swept into the main parking garage. It was sunny. That was what caught her off guard. Amidst the fear of the events going on inside, after seeing two men with guns securing the fire doors upstairs, while her heart pounded harder and harder in her chest, as she realized that this was serious, deadly serious, amidst all of this, the sun had broken through the clouds and was shining on the crowd of people outside. People who probably assumed that everything was normal. Just another drill. The sunlight made her look up and follow the beams of light shooting down at the cars on the highway. Then she heard a truck slam on its brakes and turned to follow the sound of squealing brakes as everything around her slowed down. Morgan and the crowd could only watch in dismay as a line of cars stopped along the main road was slowly and methodically twisted, crunched, and plowed out of the way by a big rig truck, one hauling what looked to be a petroleum tanker behind it. Petroleum, gas, whatever it was, it had the little signs on the sides, the bright orange triangles with the dancing flames. Morgan heard herself gasp. A woman behind her screamed. Then the crowd started running for cover.
The truck’s brakes shrieked as its tires locked up and skidded across the pavement. The driver pulled the horn as the tanker careened back and forth behind the rig, smashing into cars and sending them shooting off to the sides. The sounds of smashing glass and screeching metal were deafening. Then the driver either jerked the wheel too far to the side or lost complete control, for the truck took a sharp turn to the left, jumped the barrier in the middle of the road, and cut across the path of oncoming traffic, where it clipped a hatchback, sending the vehicle spinning ahead like a top. The little car’s tires blew out a moment before the rig caught up to it, sweeping the car against it’s grill and driving it forward as sparks shot from the tortured rims. The car skittered back and forth against the speed before breaking free and spinning out to safety. The truck hopped the curb and picked up speed. Morgan caught a glimpse of the driver as he opened the cab door, leapt to freedom, and tumbled in the dirt a split second before the tanker’s back tires plowed over his legs. Above the chaos, Morgan could hear the man’s scream as the bones in his legs exploded.
The truck continued on, picking up speed now, seemingly possessed by a phantom driver, its front wheels turning back and forth wildly as it drove over the uneven soil. The tanker followed behind, it’s hitch twisting and pulling with each impact. All at once, the crowd saw where the truck was going and a gasp rose up from the mass of people. Construction crews were hard at work on the new wing of the hospital. The iron and glass skeleton of the new building stood a block or so away. Men in hard hats stood atop the half completed structure, watching the truck in horror as it ran out of ground. The cab turned in on itself, the bumper and grill digging into the dirt, sending a geyser of sand and gravel roaring up into the air.
Construction workers were running for cover.
Then-
Impact.
The briefest pause, and…
F-OoOom!
The tanker hit the back of the truck, twisted to the side, and slammed into the base of the construction crane that towered over the site. The tanker’s metal skin peeled away as its jelly-like contents blasted out, then ignited. The explosion blew out what windows had already been installed. Flames engulfed the base of the crane, shooting up into the sky as the paint blistered away from the metal base.
Workers fled the building, running for safety and heading for the elevators at the far end of the site. The crowd behind the hospital watching warily, unsure where to go or what might happen next. Their eyes moved from the flames at the base of the crane to the massive arm that hung a dozen or so stories above them. The sounds of protesting metal began to fill the air, drawing their eyes back to the base, now engulfed in fire.
The crowd started running.