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“I just do what I’m told,” Lonnie said. “If the guy’s going to help out the cap, then let the captain repay him however he wants. No skin off your ass. Right?”

“No skin off my ass? What if the water runs out? What if a pipe bursts because this guy’s taking a shower? What if the water heater fails? That’s not skin off my ass?”

“However you want to look at it, Jescoe. You work for the same guy I do. When he comes in, bitch to him, not to me.” Lonnie waved Vincenzo deeper into the station. “Come on, guy. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Tony Vincenzo.”

“Yeah, how ya doin’? I’m Lonnie, and this lug here is Jescoe. Say hello to Mr. Tony Vincenzo, Jescoe.”

Jescoe scowled. “Fuck both of you.”

“That’s how he says hello,” Lonnie said. “He’s a public relations expert. That’s why the department keeps him around. Follow me.”

Lonnie led him upstairs to the communal shower area. There were three toilet stalls and three showers behind closed vinyl curtains. The white-tiled room was illuminated by a single wire-mesh window that allowed the light of day to filter inside.

“Generator’s going to be on in about”—Lonnie checked his watch—“a little over six minutes. You’ll have to wait until then before you can shower because the water pump won’t run without it. When it does come on, turn on the water, get wet, turn off the water, soap up, then rinse. Don’t stand in there for twenty minutes taking a Hollywood shower. In the meantime, if you want to use the facilities, go right ahead. There’s a bucket of water beside each toilet. Use it to flush.” He pushed open one of the toilet stall doors and pointed out the blue plastic bucket beside the commode.

“Damn, this is better than any Holiday Inn Express I’ve ever stayed at,” Vincenzo said.

“Yeah, well, don’t get too cozy. Jescoe’s probably going to bitch to the captain about this, so you’d better get ready to
vamanos
as soon as you can. If you have laundry, we’ll spot you on that, but once it’s out and dry, you might be shown the door. Guardino’s a great guy and all, but if the rest of the guys are bent out of shape by you being here, then he’ll do what he has to do.”

“That’s no problem.”

“All right. There are twelve guys rotating in and out, and two are here right now. I’ll find Harry and let him know you’re around. Captain and I should be back in an hour or so. Any questions?”

“No. Tell all the guys I really appreciate this, though. If there are any hard feelings, pass them on, and I’ll be gone.”

“There are, but you’re good for now. Later, guy.”

###

The rest of the firemen didn’t seem as put out as Jescoe was, but Vincenzo got the impression the rest of the team thought the big firefighter was a prick anyway. He had his shower but kept the Beretta on the floor just outside the stall with the curtain parted slightly so he could keep an eye on it. He scrubbed furiously, eroding the mantle of dried sweat that covered him and washing the grime out of his hair. He would be in need of a haircut in the near future.

The firefighters allowed him to wash his musty clothes in their washing machine, along with a load of their uniforms. They were pretty nonchalant about it, but Vincenzo could tell they were going through the motions. There was a definite sense of urgency lurking behind the calm, collected masks they wore. If he hadn’t already spent days on the road looking at people with the same kind of feigned indifference to what was going on, he might have missed it. But the firefighters were nervous, even scared. Vincenzo couldn’t blame them. The community was depending on them to help out, and the firemen were used to conveniences like radios, running vehicles, and functioning public utilities to help them do their jobs. Most of that was gone. They were back in the pre-industrial age, and they had to learn to forget a great deal of their training. Firefighting, life-saving, and emergency response were going to be much riskier.

Captain Guardino returned to the firehouse and found Vincenzo in the laundry room. “Well, you look better,” the captain said.

“And I feel a lot better,” Vincenzo replied. “Thanks for all the hospitality you’ve shown me. Your guys have been great. I really appreciate it. You have no
idea
what a hot shower feels like. I figured I’d never have one again.” He turned and pointed at the running washing machine behind him. “And that’s practically black magic.”

Guardino smiled. “Yeah, we’re fortunate to have it. And five thousand gallons of diesel fuel for the generator. Once that’s gone, though, we’re going to have some trouble. We have the fuel in the tanker and ladder truck, but that’s about it.”

“Do they still run? Your trucks?”

Guardino shook his head. “Electrical harnesses are fried. We’re looking into getting them replaced, but other stations have priority. We’re not in the most heavily populated area, so we’re basically left with two ATVs. If a fire breaks out, we’ll have to piss on it then start spitting for good measure.” He shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. Anyway, we’re going to sit down for dinner. We still have some grub left that we need to get through before we start in on the boxed goods. You want to join us?”

“I don’t know, Captain. That might not be very well received. Your guys are going to get a little bent with all this favoritism.”

“Hey, their families come here and shower and eat, too. They’re not getting nothing for something, trust me. Toss the clothes in the dryer when they’re done washing then come down for some chow. We’d all like to hear what’s going on out there.”

“Well, if you say it’s okay, but I’m starting to feel like a bit of a freeloader.”

Once the laundry was in the dryer, Vincenzo went down and discovered that two platters of frozen lasagna had been made. The kitchen cabinetry was fire-engine red, which he found to be appropriate under the circumstances. Four firemen sat at the table, including Guardino and Lonnie; the others were out at checkpoints. A pair of axes leaned against one wall, and Vincenzo looked at them curiously.

“We keep them handy at night in case there’s trouble,” Lonnie said, noticing Vincenzo’s interest. “And they’re not too bad to have on hand during the day, too.”

“We had cops out front for the first week after the event,” Guardino said. “There was a bit of trouble. Lots of citizens came to the stationhouse for aid we couldn’t give. There was a bit of a riot about to occur, so the cops had guys assigned to us. But now that things are heating up in other parts of the city, we’re kind of on our own.”

“You guys don’t have any firearms?” Vincenzo asked.

The fireman all looked at each other, as if uncomfortable with the question.

“Well, we’re not exactly authorized for that kind of equipment,” Guardino said.

“So that means no one knows you have anything,” Vincenzo said with a smile. “Your secret is safe with me, guys.”

“We do have the ability to take additional protective measures,” Guardino said, “though we really hope we don’t have to do that. We’re about saving lives, not taking them.”

“I understand.”

“You see any trouble out on the road?” Lonnie asked.

“A bit.”

“You mind giving us a rundown on what you’ve seen so far?” Guardino doled out a large helping of lasagna, serving each of the men like a father carving up a turkey for his family.

Vincenzo told them about his nights in New York and his decision to flee. He described the run-ins he’d had, including the death of the black man who had attacked him on the George Washington Bridge. That story raised some eyebrows.

“Pardon me for saying so, Tony, but you don’t exactly look like the killing machine type,” Lonnie said.

“I’m not. I just got lucky.”

He went on to tell them about the Ackermans and their plane flight to Cincinnati. That was a point of interest since none of them had seen a plane or helicopter in the air since the event, not even military aircraft. Vincenzo had no explanation for that, as his experience with airplanes beyond flying in an airliner began and ended with assisting Rob with prop-starting the Piper Cub.

“But it does seem likely air travel is still possible,” Vincenzo said. “At least on a small scale. Not so sure we’re talking jets and the like, but older propeller planes can definitely still fly. And I’d guess the skies are a lot less crowded now, so even without air traffic control, people should still be able to fly from point A to point B.”

“That’s encouraging to hear,” Guardino said. He held out his hand. “You know what, I don’t need you anymore. Give me my card back.” When Vincenzo raised an eyebrow, Guardino laughed. “Just kidding, man. How do you like the lasagna, huh? It’s the best frozen chow city money could buy.”

“It’s great. Really, it is.” While Vincenzo was certain his mother’s homemade lasagna wouldn’t be threatened, the slab of cheese and pasta before him was definitely flavorful and filling. After so many days on the road, eating previously frozen lasagna in a firehouse was like walking into a five-star Italian restaurant and having a five-course meal.

“You see any sign of the government getting in on the act?” one of the firemen asked.

“No, not really. I saw some National Guard in Jersey, but that was just a couple of days ago. I didn’t see anything like it in New York, that’s for sure. The city tried to set up aid stations, but they were picked clean on the first day. Then there were riots. I saw dead bodies on the first day everything went to hell.” Vincenzo considered what he’d just said then shook his head. “It unraveled really, really fast.”

“It’s because gutless liberals don’t have what it takes to work,” one of the firemen said. “Fucking pansies need everything handed to them on a silver platter. Heaven forbid some of the special snowflakes out there have to do something for themselves for once, or maybe show some backbone and suck it up when things hit bottom.”

“I’m sure there are just as many conservatives helping themselves to whatever they can get,” Vincenzo said.

The fireman snorted. “And I’ll bet you soup to nuts that conservatives are better prepared for this kind of situation than the lefties any day of the week.”

“You may be right about that. I don’t know any different.”
Thank God these guys don’t know my voting record.

“Yeah, well, politics aren’t really all that important anymore,” Guardino said. He refilled his tall glass with iced tea. The ice tinkled as he stirred, a sound Vincenzo didn’t think he’d be hearing again so soon. “America’s going to pull through this just fine. It’s going to take a lot of work, but we’ll get it done. We know what we need to do. We just have to get organized and get it done.”

“Yeah, first we need to lay about ten million miles of new electric cabling, then we can get back to work. Right?” Lonnie asked.

“Didn’t say it was going to be easy, Lonnie,” Guardino said. “But if airplanes can still fly, and if the diesel generators and trucks and the like can still run, then we’ve got an edge. But we have a
hell
of a lot of work to do before winter.”

“Is there any plan in place for Allentown?” Vincenzo asked.

“There’s a natural gas power plant in Bethlehem that they’re hoping to get operational in a month or so,” Guardino said, “so at least there will be some power available. I’ve heard line crews are out all over the state, and the Guard is backing up the state police in providing security. Here in Allentown, we have some power generation capability, but it’s all offline right now. Mostly from garbage incineration, believe it or not.” He smiled. “Well, at least there’s enough fuel lying around to bring it all back online when the time comes.”

“How long will it take to rewire the city?” Vincenzo asked. “Or is that a stupid question?”

“Weeks and weeks, if not months,” Guardino said. “According to the briefings I’ve been in on with the local office for emergency management, there’s some cable stock that wasn’t fried by the event, but most of it’s been turned into slag. It needs to be repaired or something, though I don’t know how they’re going to be able to do that. And I don’t know how they’d be able to get replacement stock any time soon.”