By Todd F.
"Ow, dammit Gage, that was my finger."
"Well you're not doing this right. You gotta smooth the inside folds."
"That's an accordion lay where you smooth the inside folds, stupid. This
is flat. Man, you spend too much time sucking down coffee at Rampart. When's
the last time you helped us bed hose? You and Roy got it way too easy."
"Yeah, easy. Right. Like getting barfed on and stuff. That's so easy. If
I had a dime for every time I got barfed on, man, I'd be rich."
"Kelly, Gage, look over there."
Their gaze shifted to where Captain Stanley was pointing. Mike was standing
over the hose bed, hands on his hips, staring at them. If they didn't know
better, they would have thought he was annoyed. Nah. Mike was never
annoyed.
"That, men, is an engineer. An engineer who wants his hose put to bed. Now.
Do I make myself clear?"
"Ay Cap," the pair said in unison. They quietly folded hose for a moment.
Roy brought up another length that he had walked and drained. Chet grabbed
a coupling, and they started attaching Roy's hose to the length that was
already in the bed. When they were done, Roy walked away to help Marco with
another length.
"Brass," Chet hollered over his shoulder.
"Hold on. The couplings are all bunched together. I gotta do a Dutchman."
"You wouldn't know a Dutchman if it came up and bit you," Chet said. "Let
me do it."
"Let go, Chet, I got it! There. That'll do it."
Mike turned around from where he was attaching a tool to a jump seat, took
one look at Johnny's handiwork, and quietly re-did the complicated fold in
the hose.
"See, you did it backwards, you dork." Chet said triumphantly. "Mikey had
to fix it. Why don't ya just get down and let the real firemen do this."
"Shut up, Chet. I did it just fine. Mike just has his own way of doing things,
right Mike?"
Stoker took a deep breath and turned back to the jump seat. Roy and Marco
brought up another couple lengths of hose. Marco held a coupling as Chet
fastened it to the hose already in the bed.
"Brass," he hollered again, to warn Johnny of the approaching coupling. "Brass,
as in ass. As in, why are you sitting on your ass right now?" Johnny was
sitting cross-legged on the hose they had already laid in the other side
of the bed.
"I'm sick of not being appreciated."
Mike looked up from the attic ladder he was refolding, shook his head, and
went back to his task.
Roy walked up. "Why are you sitting on your ass?"
"Gage is feeling unappreciated," said Chet, in a whiny approximation of Johnny's
voice.
"Fine. Unappreciate this. It's 6 am. We got toned out at midnight. These
hoses are wet and nasty, and my shoulder hurts from draining them. I want
to get back to the barn, sit inside a cup of coffee, change and go home.
So get off your ass and start bedding hose." Roy's voice rose incrementally
with each word.
"OK. Fine. But I'm doing it for you Roy, not for Chet."
"Fine. Whatever."
Johnny started arranging hose in the bed. Chet leaned over to help and tripped
over a hydrant wrench. He stumbled into Johnny, who tipped precariously over
the back of the engine.
"Dammit, Chet. Watch what you're doing!"
"You know, if you were up here more, you'd have better balance."
Captain Stanley came back from a chat with the Battalion chief. "How are
we doing men?"
"Fine, Cap," they said in unison.
"Good."
A deep sigh floated up from the side of the engine, where Mike was putting
away the halligan tools.
Marco approached with the next-to-last length, and Johnny started to swivel
his coupling onto Marco's end. Johnny's foot slipped on a piece of wet hose
and he briefly lost his balance, jogging the hose connection.
"Hold on, hold on, okay, I've got it. Okay." Pause. "Oh crap."
"What did the hose genius do now?" Chet asked.
"Cross-threaded the coupling," Marco said with disgust.
"You know, Gage, they have these things called Higbee indicators that are
supposed to stop morons like you from cross-threading couplings. Mikey! Bring
some hose spanners. We need to crack a coupling open."
Mike heaved another sigh and brought the tools over. Chet reached for them,
but Stoker snatched them away. Bracing the hose against the back of the engine
with his knee, he maneuvered the spanners in place and separated the coupling.
He glared at his co-workers and stomped off.
Roy brought up the last length, and the men quickly loaded the remaining
hose.
"Hey Mikey, where's the gate valve?" Chet asked.
Mike poked his head up from the pump panel. "Gate valve?"
"Yeah, gate valve. You may have seen one once or twice… that big thing
you use to connect supply lines to the hydrant." Chet grinned, overcome by
his own wit.
Mike slowly and deliberately climbed up over the pump panel and stood over
the hose bed. He stared at it for a moment before closing his eyes and opening
his mouth.
"You did a forward lay."
"Yeah. So where's the gate valve?"
Mike opened his eyes and pointed at the other side of the bed. "It's there,
Chet. Where the forward lay is supposed to be. Where it's been for years."
"Chet," Johnny started. "You mean to tell me we were supposed to be doing
a reverse lay all this time? We've gone through all this crap for nothing?"
Mike's face reddened. If this had been a movie, thunder would have rumbled
overhead. He turned to Johnny.
"You. You don't say a word," he said in a dreadfully calm voice. "You screwed
up a Dutchman, which even the newest probie could execute in his sleep. You
cross-threaded one of my couplings. You whined. You get away from my hose."
Speechless, Johnny jumped down from the rig. Roy, Cap and Marco looked at
each other and then back up at the engineer.
"Good job, Gage," Chet piped up. "You've pissed off Mikey now."
Mike turned his attention back to Chet, his eyes flashing fiercely. "And
you. My name is Mike. Or Michael. Or Firefighter Specialist Stoker. It is
not now, nor has it ever been, Mikey. And furthermore, that half of the hose
bed has not now, nor has it ever been, home to a forward lay. What are you
going to do about that… Chester?"
Chet quickly jumped from the back of the engine, grabbed the hose, and yanked
it off the bed. Without a word, he hopped back on, and started reloading
the hose correctly. Marco took pity on his friend, and started feeding him
lengths of hose.
Mike slowly climbed down and got into the driver's seat. He leaned his head
back and closed his eyes. Captain Stanley got in next to him.
"I sent Roy and Johnny back to the barn to make some coffee. I think we could
all use some."
Mike nodded.
"You realize Gage is going to sulk for the rest of the morning," Cap continued.
"And when Kelly recovers, the story making the rounds will be 'yeah, that
Stoker, he went ballistic, threw tools, grabbed collars, threatened
lives'..."
A shadow of a grin creased Mike's face. He settled back in his seat, hands
behind his head, listening to the thumping noises of hose being loaded correctly.
No one spoke, or bickered, or teased. It was music to his ears.
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