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Donovan's Law

By Rick Mayhew

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[A SNEAK PEEK AT THE NOVEL]

March 9th

Engineer Donovan Law rolled over in bed for the umpteenth time tonight. He found himself struggling with these types of nights, at the fire station, since his recent promotion to Engineer.

He was nervous about sleeping through an alarm and missing the call—nervous that even if he did wake up at the sound of the emergency tones, he may still not be alert enough to do his job properly. He feared his lack of experience in his new position would not meet the standards of his supervisor. He honestly didn’t want to disappoint his Captain, and he truly didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his coworkers.

Donovan glanced up at the red illuminated numbers on the wall clock inside fire station 118’s dorm. 3:00 a.m. Frustration piqued.
Don’t think about sleep…don’t think about sleep…don’t think about sleep. Dang it! I keep thinking about sleep.

He now found himself at a point only fellow insomniacs could understand. As he wrestled with his pillow and shifted around under his bedcovers, trying to find that elusive position to lead to his blissful goal, he could feel his body yearning for the rest…but his mind kept mocking his efforts. He was about to surrender to the night and stumble his way out of the dorm and into the TV room when the fire tones sounded.

Engineer Law immediately threw off his bedcovers, looking for the turnout boots he’d meticulously set right next to his bed. The tops protruded through the folded-down legs of his turnout pants, the way he’d left them four hours ago. In a scene repeated in firehouses across the country for the better part of the last 150 years, he stepped into the boots and yanked at his bootstraps until his feet were securely in place. Standing, he reached down to pull up his pants as his thoughts raced to his previous struggle with the night.

That’s why I couldn’t sleep. I’m alert and still thinking as clear as day. No mistakes this time around. Thank You, Lord.

As Donovan ran his arms through his suspenders, he glanced at the bed across the aisle and saw Firefighter Carlos Sandoval rising from his nightly coma. How Sandoval could always fall asleep so quickly and soundly continually baffled Law. Donovan, however, being the type of person who saw the glass half full, found solace in his current situation.

I’m a few seconds ahead of everyone else. That should give me the time I need to slide the pole, check the map on the wall for the address, find the most direct route, locate the closest fire hydrant to the scene, and be ready to drive out by the time everyone else staggers across the apparatus floor and slips into their jumpseats.

Engineer Law made his way down the center aisle of the dormitory that housed a row of beds on each side of the room. He entered the pole hole and slid from the second-story dorm to the apparatus floor where the emergency vehicles were parked. The fire engine, ladder truck, and rescue ambulance were all positioned to exit the building onto Main Street. The battalion vehicle faced the opposite direction of the other apparatus and would exit out the rear of the station.

As Donovan reached the bottom of the pole hole, he heard the door open above his head, meaning that the other eleven personnel would soon be on his tail. He dashed over to the wall map, only slightly aware of the other firefighters anxiously passing behind him enroute to their assigned positions.

As Donovan turned from the wall map to jog over to his driver’s seat on Engine 118, he had a “near miss” with Captain John Bell as their paths crossed. The Engineer glanced into his Captain’s eyes, as if to apologize, then noticed Captain Bell was not awake yet.

Those early morning squishy wrinkles encompassed his Captain’s face and his eyes were as glassy as the Colorado River at sunrise. Engineer Law hesitated, then realized, Not a problem. By the time we head out of the fire station, the Cap will be ready for work.

Captain John Bell was a 25-year seasoned veteran who had worked his way up through the ranks. He knew his job, the job of those who worked for him, each of their strong points, and their weaknesses. He was known as a man who would bring out the best in a person. He was also known as a good fire ground commander, and his crew trusted him…with their lives.

As Engineer Law jumped into the driver’s seat, started the fire engine, turned his head to make sure everyone was in and seat-belted, he checked the time on his watch. Less than two minutes had elapsed from the time the initial fire tone sounded. He mentally patted himself on the back.

Donovan threw a switch on the dashboard and the fire engine lit up like a Christmas tree. As he pulled the rig out of the station, he glanced up into the dark early morning sky and saw an orange glow dancing in the distance.

“You know where you’re going, Donovan?” came the early morning
scratch from Captain Bell’s voice.

“I got a good idea, Cap. But if I get any doubts, I’ll just head for that plume.”

Donovan’s idea of humor at this early morning hour was lost on the still-lethargic Captain. With that comment, Captain Bell followed the direction of Donovan’s gaze. Even though they were still several blocks away, no one could miss the header.

“Is that the chemical lab?” Bell asked.

“Yep,” Donovan said. “And it looks like it’s already venting through the roof.”

With that vital bit of information, Captain Bell donned his headset with the microphone and firmly stated to both his firefighters on the engine, “Looks like it’s going to be a long night, boys. You ready for some action?”

Captain John Bell knew his was a rhetorical question. He had full confidence his firefighters were more than ready. He thought back to all those days and hours of training with his crew. He was certain it would pay off, especially when dealing with a dangerous incident while still trying to wake up. He knew his firefighters would rely on their mental automatic pilot and pure adrenaline to push them through the first couple minutes of this incident, but that was the job…and they were ready.

The unknown danger they were about to confront caused John to reflect back on the teasing he’d received over the years from family, friends, and even the citizens about the presumably cushy job of a firefighter. He had tried early in his career to seriously and professionally answer questions and comments such as, “What do you guys do with all that extra time on your hands?” “Do you guys still play checkers all day?” “How come the whole fire engine has to come to the grocery store to shop?” “All you guys do is sit around in your recliners and watch TV.”

His initial tactic was to explain the daily activities such as the strenuous hours of training, business inspections, emergency vehicle maintenance, fire hydrant maintenance, and so on. But he soon realized people did not want to hear the truth. It was more fun to believe the myths and razz the fireman.
So John came to the conclusion he would accept the harassment with a smile. He could smile because he had also come to realize some time ago that it was not what the firefighters did on the last call, or what they do on the present call, but rather what they are willing to do that justifies their existence.
The mere fact his fellow firefighters were willing to risk their own health
and lives to save someone they had never met before placed them in a unique category. Yet if John were to ask any of the firefighters if they thought they were heroes, they would deny it to their death.

As Engine 118 approached the closest fire hydrant to the fire, Engineer Law stopped the rig and Captain Bell shouted, “Lay a line!” With that command, Firefighter Carlos Sandoval in his backward-facing seat made eye contact with the six-month rookie sitting parallel to him and gave a slight nod.

Firefighter Jesse Miller was a six-foot tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, gangly man of 24 years. The last six months of his life had consisted of eating, drinking, and dreaming about his new career as a firefighter. With Sandoval’s silent encouragement, Miller leaped off the fire engine and ran to the rear where the fire hose was located. His thoughts went to all the steps it would take to properly wrap the fire hose around the fire hydrant, with no wasted time.

Within seconds Firefighter Miller was back in his jumpseat, recapping his accomplishment and knowing the next arriving engine would be able to hook the hose to the hydrant and send the water to the pump on Engine 118.
With Jesse safely back on board the engine, Engineer Law pulled forward to the fire scene. Even before the fire engine had come to a complete stop, Captain Bell give his size up.

“Dispatch, Engine 118 is on scene of a two-story industrial complex 200 x 400 with fire showing from the second floor and roof on the northwest portion of the building. Evacuation is currently taking place. Activate a third alarm and send the hazardous-material unit. This is a chemical laboratory.”

As soon as Captain Bell released the microphone key, Battalion Chief Nathan Chapel in Battalion 10 arrived at the scene.

“Dispatch, Battalion 10 on scene assuming command. This will be known as the Chemical Incident, and Battalion 10 will be known as Chemical I.C. Have all incoming units stage at the corner and notify Chemical I.C. of their arrival. Dispatch, also notify P.D.; we are going to need traffic and crowd control.”

Nathan Chapel was a Battalion Chief well known for his no-nonsense approach at an emergency scene. He had been promoted to Battalion Chief early in his career and therefore had 13 years under his belt as an Incident Commander. This was not an incident that was going to shake the nerves of Battalion Chief Chapel. But he needed to quickly put together his strategy and tactics, including a plan A and two contingency plans in case things began to go wrong.

To do that, Nathan needed to set up his command board located at the rear of Battalion 10 and establish the Command Post. As Battalion Chief Chapel began writing down his thought process and organizing his plan of attack on the command board, a short, stocky man with black hair done in a lousy comb-over hurried to him, bent over, and gasped for air.

The bothersome man finally took a deep breath and forced out his first words: “Sir, I am the night-shift manager. All of my personnel are accounted for except two.”

“Where were the two missing persons last seen?”
“In the break room on the second floor. It’s at the east end of the building…the opposite end of the fire location.”

“Do you know if the laboratory or any chemicals are burning at this time?”

“I don’t think so. The laboratory and chemicals are located at the opposite end of the fire as well, so I don’t think we have a chemical fire.”

Battalion Chief Chapel reached for his radio and communicated with Captain Bell: “Engine 118 from Chemical I.C., I have the night-shift manager at my location. He has indicated that we still have two personnel unaccounted for. They were last seen on the second floor in the break room at the east end of the structure. You are now assigned as Primary Search and Rescue Division 2.”

The adrenaline hit the next level for Captain Bell. “You hear that, boys? We got primary search and rescue on the second floor. Looks like two people are still missing. Grab the tools and let’s go.”

John reached for his portable radio in his turnout jacket pocket, keyed the microphone, and repeated his assignment to B.C. Chapel: “Chemical I.C. from Engine 118, we copy Primary Search and Rescue Division 2.”

As the rescue team from Engine Company 118 forced their way through the side entrance, they immediately noticed the visibility on the first floor was still good. However, Captain Bell’s years of experience told him the floor above them may not be as accommodating. He remembered seeing the fire and smoke bellowing out from the second floor and venting through the roof. He
turned to his crew. “We better prepare for the worst and hope for the best.”
The firefighters all saw the elevator doors as soon as they entered the building, but under these conditions, they knew they needed to climb their way to the second floor.

Jesse Miller pointed out the stairwell directly to their right. Captain John Bell took the lead and off the four rescuers went, straight into the mouth of the dragon.

The team’s initial impact with the second floor proved Captain Bell to be right again. The smoke level in that area was not benefiting from the vertical ventilation occurring on the opposite end of the building. The haze had dropped from the ceiling to about three feet from the floor.

The firefighters instinctively dropped to their knees where the visibility was better, but it was still like looking through the fog on a cold winter’s day, except for two minor differences. The temperature of the cold winter’s day was actually closer to 300 degrees Fahrenheit under the super-heated upper atmosphere. The second difference was the higher they rose from the floor, the hotter it would get.

Although their personal protective equipment was tested to withstand 1500 degrees Fahrenheit, no firefighter would survive in temperatures of that magnitude. So they prepared to perform their search and rescue techniques on their hands and knees, keeping in close contact with each other.

Captain Bell always made it a habit to use the seconds he had prior to performing an emergency task to pull the team together, much like a quarterback would do right before kickoff. Captain Bell shouted to his crew, “We’re going to the right and staying along the wall. Shout out and listen for a response from the victims. Use your tools to reach out to the portions of the rooms we can’t get to from the walls. Stay focused on our assignment, men, and we will exit this building with victory literally within our grasp.” The only response Captain Bell received was the hissing and blowing of his team breathing through their self-contained breathing apparatus. It did not matter; he was ready, and he knew they were as well.

The search began with the firefighters calling out, “Anybody in here? Can you hear me? Fire Department!” No one from Engine 118 got any response. As the team continued deeper into the hallway, the rapidly deteriorating visibility made it hard for one firefighter to see the next firefighter in line. They systematically reached forward and placed one hand on the heel of the firefighter in front of them.

They all knew they had about 30 minutes of air in their bottles when
they started and they needed to try and stay aware of the time that was elapsing during their search. They did not want to get 25 minutes into the structure and have their low-air alarm sound, meaning they only had five minutes of air left for their retreat.

When they were about to reach the point of no return, Captain Bell once again reached for his portable radio to contact B.C. Chapel: “Chemical I.C. from Primary Search and Rescue Division 2, send in another search and rescue team. We are running low on air and are preparing to turn around and exit the building. No victims have been found.”

Battalion Chief Chapel responded, “10-4 Primary Search and Rescue Division 2, Engine 134 has already been assigned. They will be waiting outside your exit for an update when you arrive.”

Captain Bell thought about verbally letting his B.C. know he copied the radio transmission but was afraid it would use up too much air. He hoped the BC understood their situation, then continued to guide his men a little deeper into the abyss.

Firefighter Jesse Miller was doing his best to remain in control of his emotions, but this was only his third working structure fire and his first search and rescue assignment. Firefighter Sandoval finally turned towards Jesse. “Hey man, slow your breathing down. You sound like a train. If your low-air alarm sounds, that means you and I have to get out. and I’m not ready to leave until we have a victim.”

Miller knew Sandoval was right. He knew for reasons of personal safety, all firefighters stayed in teams of two. No one was allowed to enter or exit a building on their own. But that little bit of recollection did not help him slow his breathing. In fact, it created more anxiety on the already taxed metabolic system of the rookie.

No sooner did Sandoval finish his lecture when Miller’s low-air alarm went off. Sandoval tapped the next person in line ahead of him, Engineer Law, and said, “Miller and I need to get out. Miller’s alarm is sounding.”
Engineer Law notified his Captain, who was still in the front of the pack. Captain Bell nodded with approval and the two firefighters did an about-face and began their exit.

The rookie Miller was leading the way out when he thought he heard a noise coming from a door near the stairwell. Jesse stopped abruptly, causing Sandoval to run into Miller’s butt with his helmet. “What are you doing?” Sandoval asked.

“I thought I heard something coming from that closet door.”

“We already searched that area, there’s nothing…now get going!”

But this time the muffled noise of a person’s voice came through loud and clear.
Firefighter Sandoval grabbed Jesse’s boot leg to halt him. Jesse heard it as well and decided to lead his partner across the hallway to the partially opened door.

As the two firefighters attempted to push the door the rest of the way open, the door would not budge. Firefighter Sandoval went from his knees to a squatting position to get more leverage. He threw himself at the door, which resulted in a painful scream from the victim, but the door opened enough for both firefighters to gain entrance.

Firefighter Miller was the first to locate the victim lying on his back behind the door. Both firefighters grabbed hold of the victim’s armpits and began dragging him to safety.

Once they arrived at the stairwell, firefighter Sandoval radioed the I.C.: “Chemical I.C. from Primary Search and Rescue Division 2, we are coming out with one victim.” Before Battalion Chief Chapel could respond, another radio transmission broke through: “Chemical I.C. from Primary Search and Rescue Division 2, make that two victims.”

Sandoval and Miller both looked at each other in question, then realized their Captain and Engineer must have made it to the break room and found the second patient. The smiles could not be seen through their face pieces, but their emotions were tangible.

Although it was the wee hours of the morning, the sirens and the glow of the fire against the dark velvet blue skyline had brought out its share of people.
The crowd across the street gawked in awe and amazement of the fire scene. One menacing looking individual, in particular, watched with extreme interest.

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