Tommy Newton came over. “What’s up, Chief?”
“I need you to take over.” Tucker lifted his helmet from his head.
Tommy hesitated, then saw Tucker’s injury. “I’ve got it,” Tommy said, not missing a beat.
Tucker met the EMT halfway.
“Did it come down on your shoulder?” the EMT asked.
Tucker nodded.
“Okay. Can you walk?”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, you’re not fine, but we’ll get this taken care of.” They treated the burn and checked his shoulder.
Tucker gritted his teeth through the pain. It wasn’t the first time he’d been burned, but it would’ve been worse had he not gotten that rookie out of there when he had.
His ear throbbed so badly that he couldn’t hear clearly.I can trust Tommy. They are in good hands.
“We’re going to take you out of here, Tucker. It’s not bad, but you know the drill.”
“Who has a truck? Leave the emergency vehicle here in case something else happens. I’ll get someone to take me.”
The EMT made a dash over to talk to Tommy, and the next thing Tucker knew, he was being loaded into Sully’s pickup truck.
“You okay, Chief?” Sully asked.
“I will be.” Tucker clenched his teeth. As the adrenaline subsided, the true impact of the burn became more painful. The tender skin on his neck and ear felt like it was already blistering away from his skin.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Sheila ran to the windows that overlooked the front parking lot from the second-story community room at the fire station. Several pickup trucks were parked there now, and the other fire truck siren joined in the noisy assault as it revved up and rolled out of the parking lot.
“Holy cow.” The noise was deafening. It was incredible how fast it was from the moment of the alarm to the time that first truck moved out. No time at all, and now the second was gone too.
The siren carried off into the distance.
It was a good distance to the tree farm from here. She couldn’t see any dark clouds or a glow in the distance. Hopefully, it was a false alarm.
Another fire truck pulled out of the bay below her. Yellow coats and red, black, and yellow helmets raced around on all sides. Probably conducting a quick safety check before departure.
More cars arrived at the firehouse, some of their drivers and passengers getting in the fire truck, others lining up behind it.
The siren moaned, then accelerated until finally the hornhonked followed by the steady sound of the diesel engine filling the night air.
With all the vehicles out of the building, finally, the station alarm quieted.
In the hush, she heard the crackling of conversations. She followed the voices downstairs. In the area next to the garage bays, a radio broadcast the situation.
She made out the words “Joe’s Christmas Tree Farm.” She froze. They’d just been there. “Not Joe’s.” She sat, unable to just go back to work, riveted to the garbled radio talk, much of which sounded like a mishmash of numbers and codes.
Her heart pounded. She hoped everyone would be okay.
Memories from the night of the Jacobs’ house fire tumbled through her mind. The devastation and how fast the situation changed. The look in the family’s faces as they watched.
This is what he does for a living. He knows what he’s doing.
