A Hero’s Story?

By Wanda Hargrove

                                      

 

                Captain Hank Stanley was finally free of his duties commanding a fire station for the next forty-eight hours. Driving down the road, he turned the corner and headed for home where his wife, Danielle and their daughters were waiting for him.

 

            His body ached from the last fire his station had responded to.  It had been a bad one, but now all he wanted was a nice soft bed.  “What the hell?” he muttered to himself at the sight that lay in the street.  He felt something was wrong but allowed his truck to roll forward.  He’d seen a few dead squirrels from time to time but now dead squirrels and birds littered the street and some of the yards. 

 

            As he reached the epicenter of the animal genocide he heard a blast and his truck rocked.  The next thing he knew his vehicle was surrounded in flames.  Frantically, trying not to panic, the tall dark haired man pawed at his seatbelt buckle to gain his freedom from the burning machine.  He was rewarded with a click and he launched himself from the truck.  Rolling around on the ground he smothered the flames blazing at his clothes and flesh.  He lay there for a moment taking survey of where his body was burned, the worse being his hands and face. 

 

            The next thing he knew, he was deafened by a loud boom that shook the earth, followed in rapid succession by four more.  Gritting his teeth at the pain of his seared  hands, he slowly rose to his feet.  As he gazed at the scene of five houses in flames, he looked at the house next door to this one, his own, and wondered if it would explode too. 

 

            He glanced back at the house in front of him and saw through the blaze his twenty year old neighbor trying to get out of her house.  In her arms he saw her baby she was desperately trying to save.  Then he heard creaking and looked up to see the structure showing signs of collapse.  “I’m coming, hand me the infant,“ he shouted as he lept through the flames and grabbed the child.  “Hurry, the house is coming down!“ 

 

******************

 

 

            Danielle was in the process of getting breakfast made for both of her teen daughters.  She glanced up at the clock, noting that soon her husband would be home.  A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she thought of how good it would be to have him there for the next two days.

 

            Michelle and Denise walked into the kitchen still bickering.  “No!  You can’t wear my red dress!”

 

            “Why not?  It’s not like I intentionally ruined your blue skirt.”

 

            “You still don’t get it, do you, Denise?!  I know you didn’t intentionally ruin my blue skirt.  It’s the fact that you borrowed it without asking and now I can’t even wear it anymore!”

 

            “Well, excuse me for living!”

 

            “GIRLS!  Now that is enough!  Stop this arguing, your father will be home soon and I don’t think he’ll want to hear this… .”  Before she could say anything else, an  explosion caused the windows to rattle.  It was quickly followed in succession by four more.   

 

            Both girls screamed and dove underneath the kitchen table.  Danielle ran for the front door and opened it to see houses on fire, the closest one just next door.  “Girls, get out of the house!”  She ran for the phone in the living room and immediately called the number for the fire department and reported the fire.  Then she hurried out to be with her two daughters.

 

            Denise looked towards the McCallister house and saw something that made her want to run.  “Mom!  Dad’s down there!”

 

            Danielle looked in the direction where her second child was pointing and saw her husband leap through the burning doorway of the house.  Her heart both soared and sunk at the same time, conflicting emotions were making her head spin.  On one hand she wanted her husband there with her and the girls.  On the other hand, she didn’t want anyone to die and knew it was in his nature to render aid. 

 

            As she watched she saw Hank bring out a crying baby, quickly followed by Tina McCallister.  “Girls, I’m going next door to help your father.  I want you two to go to the Rice’s and stay there until we come and get you.”

 

            Michelle and Denise didn’t want to leave but they complied with their mother’s wishes.  In the predawn morning they couldn’t see if their father was hurt or not, but they worried for him as they both saw his truck on fire.

 

 

******************

 

 

            Hank reached the safety of the front lawn and dropped to his knees, still holding the precious bundle that squirmed in his grip.  His hands hurt horribly and he was grateful to hand the wiggling baby back to its mother, who had just joined the injured fireman. 

 

            He sucked in a breath trying to block out the pain from the release of his bundle and the heat from his face.  He didn’t know which hurt worse.  His ears were assaulted by the sounds of buildings collapsing, people crying out in pain, and the sound of the fires as it greedily sought out anything that would feed it’s hunger.

 

            He felt another presence by him and turned his head enough to see his wife Danielle as she knelt down beside him and hugged him.   He gasped trying not to let her see that he was injured but it was not to be.

 

            “Hank, your hurt!”

 

            “Just some minor burns,” he tried to play it off as if it was nothing.

 

            “Minor burns my ass.  I’ve got to get you to the hospital!”

 

            “I can’t, there’s other people who need my help!”  He tried to rise but Danielle placed her arms on his shoulders, and in his weakened condition he couldn’t resist the pressure to stay on the ground.

 

            Another sound joined the sounds of misery and destruction, sirens.  The fire department rolled up and began to attack the fires and help the victims.  Brice and Bellingham ran up the lawn to the two women, baby and man on the grass. 

 

            Hank’s injuries were quickly assessed, an IV started, morphine given for the pain, and burn dressings applied to his face and hands.  Soon he was bundled up and whisked away to Rampart. 

 

            The next twenty four hours were a blur to him.  The morphine easing his pain had also dulled his senses.  He saw the concerned faces of his shift mates, Dr. Brackett, Dixie, Danielle, and his daughters.  It seemed as soon as he recognized someone and tried to focus on what they were saying, he was asleep again. 

 

            The second day he awoke to a tight squeeze on the arm.  He looked over at the apologetic nurse.  “Sorry to wake you so early, but I’ve got to take your blood pressure and redress those burns.”  Never expect to get any rest in a hospital, he thought as she continued with her work. 

 

            After finishing her work she looked down on the injured man.  “I’m Doris, and I’ll be your nurse in the mornings.  Would you like me to turn the TV on for you so you can watch something before your doctor comes to visit?”

 

            “Please,” the dark haired man responded in a thick voice.  “I need something to pass the time since I can’t use the remote.”

 

            She clicked the button on the remote and left the room.  Hank settled himself as comfortably as he could on the hard mattress, when he caught a story on the news.

 

            “This is film footage of a subdivision that had a series of mysterious explosions yesterday morning.  This station has learned that there is an underground natural gas pipeline that may have developed a leak causing the explosions.”  The news crew had filmed the firemen working to put out the house fires.  “We’ll return with updates to this story as soon as the information is made available to us.”

 

            Hank closed his eyes as he was gripped by an unnatural fear.  He could feel his truck being shook by the explosion and the flames licking at him.  The panic he felt at being trapped in his own vehicle washed over him again, and he fought to control his emotions. 

 

            Doctor Brackett stepped into the room.  “Glad to see you're awake.  From what I’ve heard you're lucky to have second degree burns on your hands.  At least you now look like you’ve got a bad sunburn on your face, which is good.”  The medical man picked up the chart at the end of the bed and glanced at it.  “Your blood pressure is now close to normal, which is a good sign.  And those first degree burns on your legs are healing.  But what I’m mainly concerned about now are your hands.  We’ll see how you respond to treatment and you might be out of here soon.”

 

            “That’s great, doc, I really want to get home to Danielle and the girls.”

 

            “That’s what I thought.  You might want to consider an early retirement if we can’t get the strength built back up in your hands.”

 

            “No, doc, that’s not an option.  I’ll be back to work in no time.”  Hank was determined to get back to work as soon as possible. 

 

            “I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, then.  But do keep it in mind if it doesn’t work out.”

 

            “I won’t need to,” the injured man set his face showing that he would make it back to his job.

 

 

******************

 

            As the days went by Hank showed them all that would make it back to work.  His physical therapist was amazed by how quickly the man gained some his strength.  But the injured fire captain began to see that he was developing a fear of small places.

 

            Being in a shower stall, closets and tiny bathrooms gave him the sense of being closed in like he was trapped in his truck all over again.  At odd times he’d have flashbacks to that morning and hear all the sounds again.  The people screaming, houses collapsing and most of all the beast.

 

            The day he left the hospital and went home, Danielle noticed a change.  It wasn’t a big change, but she could tell something was going on with her fearless husband.  “Hank, I know it’s none of my business but something’s bothering you.”

 

            “I don’t know what you mean, Danni.”

 

            “You know perfectly well what I mean, Henry Stanley!”  She stamped a foot and crossed her arms across her chest in irritation.  He knew that when she used Henry that he was in for it.  “You have a problem with small places.  Don’t you think that if I’ve noticed it that other people will notice it.  What do you think would happen if Chief McConnikee found out or someone else with the fire service?”

 

            He hung his head down looking at his hands encased in the protective gloves.  “They’ll make me go to a shrink.”

 

            Danni knelt down in front of her husband placing her hands on his knees.  “Yes,” she spoke in a softer, gentle tone, “and they might put you on administrative leave.”

 

            He sighed and looked into his wife’s emerald green eyes.  He knew she was right, she always seemed to be right in cases like these.  “What do I need to do?”

 

            Danielle smiled and rose while retrieving a slip of paper handing it to him.  “I’ve made an appointment with Dr. Burton.  He’s a counselor who works with people who’ve been through traumatic events.  Don’t worry he’s not affiliated with the fire service or Rampart in any way.  My sister went to him after she was in that car accident two years ago.”

 

            He drew his sweet wife into his lap and gave her a passionate kiss.  “I’m so glad I married you,” he murmured as he brushed her brownish gold hair out of her eyes. 

 

            “I’m glad you married me, too.”  She gave him an impish smile.

 

            “Why don’t we take this upstairs?”

 

            “I never thought you’d ask,” she replied as she slipped from his grasp.  “Catch me if you can,” she laughed mischievously as she fled the room.

 

******************

 

            Hank walked into the doctor’s office.  He took in the artificial plants around the office sporadically placed in the bright light coming in through the windows.  He guessed this was to help the patients to feel more at ease.  He stepped up to the receptionist’s desk and signed in. 

 

            The pretty blue-eyed, brown haired woman looked at the name on the paper.  “You’re a new patient?”

 

            “Yes, ma’am.”

 

            She handed him a clipboard with paperwork on it.  “You need to fill this out to the best of your knowledge so I can get a file started for you.”

 

            He took the proffered item and sat in a chair.  He wished he didn’t have to wear the gloves protecting his still healing hands.  They made the chore of writing difficult and his usually neat handwriting was as sloppy as a kindergartners. 

 

            Finishing, he took the clipboard back to the perky woman who quickly made a file folder and placed it next in line.  He sat back down and waited a few moments as the patient before him exited the office.  After a few more moments he was directed to a different room. 

 

            The floor was covered with a light gray carpeting that sort of reminded him of that new stuff they were trying on some football fields, like Astroturf.   A few art decco chairs shaped like clasped hands sat about the room.  Hanks eyes fell on Dr. Burton, who was a small, pudgy, balding man; not what the fire captain had expected.

 

            The smaller man held out his hand and shook the fearless leader of Station 51’s hand.  “Please, sit down, Henry.  I read the report of the events that sent you to me.  What you’ve described is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and it’s not confined to the military.  Anyone who’s gone through a traumatic event in their life can suffer from this.”

 

            The man paused a moment as if to regain his thoughts and then continued on.  “If I were a psychiatrist, which I’m not, I’d just pump you full of a tranquilizer and send you home.  Instead of dulling your senses and telling you everything’s going to be all right, we’ll sit here and talk about your feelings and it usually works for most people.  Sometimes we do some role playing and that can help you get over the trauma.”

 

            “Okay, doc, I’m ready for anything.”

 

            For a month the recovering fireman talked about his feelings and began to feel a little better and began to accept the fact that he might suffer flashbacks.  The Closter phobia he had felt began to ease and he could stay in tight places for more than a few seconds.  But more than five minutes and he would feel as though the walls were beginning to close in on him.

 

            At the end of the month Dr. Burton greeted Hank as he always did.  This time, however, the man was holding a sheet of paper in his hand.  “Henry, I’m confident you’re now past the crisis stage.  I believe you’ll do fine on your job, but remember if you have a need to talk to anyone, I’m available.

 

            The pudgy man handed Hank a paper, and he grinned as he saw the look on the other man’s face.  “I wanted to tell you someway thanks for everything you and the fire department do, and this was the only way.”

 

            “But… This says I owe you nothing for your services.” 

 

            The good doctor nodded, “It’s true.  You see there was a fire two months ago at my daughter's house.  She couldn’t get out and said her nice neighbor ran into the house and grabbed her baby saving not only her but my grandson, too.  I finally put two and two together when I told her I had a patient named Stanley.  She described you to a tee, and this was my way of saying thank you.”

 

            “I had no idea, but I really can’t accept this.”

 

            “Yes, you can.  It’s not a gratuity and I may have provided you a service, but I decided that was on my time.”

 

******************

 

            Hank felt secure that today was going to be a good day, as he pulled his car into the parking lot at his station.  It felt good to finally be out from under Danielle’s watchful eye, and having his girls hover over him.  As he walked into the station he was greeted by Captain Hookrader. 

 

            “It’s good to have you back at work.  I’ve been pulling doubles while you’ve been off.  Which reminds me that crew of yours is good, but if I had to spend one more shift with them I think I would have gone nuts.”

 

            “Kelly and Gage?”  At the look of the other man’s face Stanley knew he’d hit the nail on the head.  “What have those two been up to?”

 

            “What haven’t they done?  They started one of the hugest prank wars I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some good ones.  I thought I was gonna have to get DeSoto to calm down cause he got hit by one of their kool-aid bombs.”

 

            “Kool-aid bomb?”

 

            “Well, it’s more like a water balloon but filled with Kool-aid instead.  I swear, Hank, those two were getting under everyone’s skin.”

 

            “That figures.  Any injuries or accidents I should know about?”

 

            “Not a one, and that’s surprising considering Gage’s reputation.”  Hookrader yawned.  “Now that your here, I’m heading home.  It’ll be nice to finally get some sleep.”

 

            Mike, Marco, Chet, Johnny, and Roy were all overjoyed to see their commanding officer back to work.  Hank was bombarded by the questions of how was he doing, and did he know why the houses exploded.

 

            As they were getting back to normal, the tones sounded sending the squad and engine to an industrial fire.  Stanley jumped up into his seat, and Stoker looked over at him and smiled.  He knew that now things were going to be alright.

 

 The End

 

 

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