Sizzle (St. Martin Family Saga): Emergency Responders (5 page)

***

4

T
he following two
days were a blur. They’d made preparations and evacuated the town. Finally a lull hit and they were all blowing off steam around the department poker table.

“I call and raise you a bag of sour cream and onion chips.” Clay reached forward and dropped the chips on the middle of the table. “Jack, you’re up.”

Jack emerged from the bathroom adjusting his fly. He stroked his chin. “I call.” He looked around for his stash. “Where’s the honey bun I had here?”

Clay rustled an empty plastic wrapper between his fingers.

Jack pointed. “Is that it?”

“I think you mean
was
, and yes, it was.”

“Fuck it, I fold. I’m bored as a slug anyway.”

Clay stood and threw down his cards. “I’m out too.”

Ace let out an exasperated sigh and plunked down a glass bottle with theatrical-grade force. “Pumper is back on the wagon and has donated a two-hundred-dollar bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. You pussies get your asses back in the game.”

Clay waved him off and followed Jack across the large room and out to the garage, stopping when Jack leaned a shoulder against one of the brick pillars of the open bay doors. The winds had picked up, but were still under hurricane force. Clay overturned a five-gallon bucket and sat, watching the light debris sweep down the black-tarred streets.

“I wanted to thank you for seeing Clara safely home.”

He nodded. “No thanks required, but you’re welcome.”

“Did you stay the night?”

Jack’s lips tightened, and his eyes narrowed as he turned to Clay. “Just say it; you’ve been skirting around it for days.”

A yellow lab running down the road caught in Clay’s peripheral vision, and he broke the intense stare they shared. Shit, Jack’s reaction said it all. Did he really want to get into the nuts and bolts of their status?

As Clay had focused on preparing the town shelters, he’d thought of the families that might seek protection there and he’d prayed that all who did would remain safe. Right now Clara’s safety was what was most important to him.

“Know what, Jack? I trust you. We’ve known each other for years. You’ve been part of our family for at least a decade.” Clay’s eyes narrowed as his sights settled on Jack. “I know you would never do anything to hurt any one of them.” Jack’s jaw ticked as he folded his arms across his chest.

From the bay doors of the station, Clay could just make out the highway. Traffic had slowed to a crawl on the I-10 and had been stalled for about five hours, but now the roads were beginning to clear. The only thing left to do was sit and wait for the fallout.

***

The next morning Clay woke at the station. He dressed in his rain gear and walked the few yards that separated his house from the Fighting Nineteenth. With each step he fought to maintain his footing. The wind and rain whipped his exposed skin, and he made a point to watch out for flying debris. He knew the power would be out shortly, and he needed to power up his home generator to keep the twenty-five pounds of backstrap he had on ice from spoiling. Security should have been his biggest concern but when he recalled the taste of the sautéed meat with hoecakes and fresh molasses syrup, he’d decided to risk injury from flying objects just to assure it would keep.

He made sure his own place was ready for the winds and rain and then returned to the station, directing the guys through cleaning and drills and more cleaning, anything to keep them alert and busy.

The storm had gained strength overnight and was due to make landfall as a category five, a dangerous scenario given the already saturated earth.

As the outer bands of the hurricane hit, the rain was steady and winds were enough to blow debris down the street, mostly just loose tree limbs, litter, and flimsy sheet metal. They’d yet to be hit with the western, and worst, edge of the storm. The few calls that had come in were injuries from wind driven rubble.

By nightfall he and the rest of the team had enjoyed two meals served by none other than Keith in his French attire. The kid had mellowed and was now being a good sport about his discipline. His attitude hadn’t faltered when Augie had shown up and swatted his ass with a wooden spoon during dinner. He embraced the ribbing, and now Clay had a shot of his tighty-whitey briefs and his red thighs as he held the skirt up to give Augie easy access.

“Ouch!” the kid shouted as he leaned over and held a basket of rolls.

“It’ll be ten swats the next time my roll isn’t warmed. Now get out of here, and might I recommend a full Brazilian for that bush of yours.”

Laughter raced around the table.

“Yes, sir.”

Augie jumped up to answer his ringing phone, walking to the far end of the dining room as he listened. Clay watched and saw his face turn from playful to determined. He slowly paced as he talked and then he stopped. His head rose until he found Clay’s gaze. He flipped his phone shut and motioned for Clay to meet him in his office.

Clay left the guys at the table, still laughing. Augie was seated at Clay’s desk, his fingers steepled in front of him.

“Roof over the kitchen caved in at the high school. Everyone is fine and the shelter is going to stay up and running, but most of the food was ruined. They’re sorting it now.”

“We can get a truck over to the food bank and make a delivery once the water subsides.”

Augie squeezed the fingers on one hand and then the other, sending a long ripping sound through the quiet room, a habit he indulged in when he was anxious.

“When do you think the roads will clear?” he asked.

“Three days, if this is anything like the last one.”

Augie nodded. “I’m in the rig so I’m going to head on over there and see what, if any, rationing needs to be implemented.”

He stood and they exchanged a hand squeeze and a pat on the shoulder.

“Radio if you need anything,” Clay said.

“Will do.”

As weather conditions worsened, the phone lines began to light up. Jack and Clay were sent to answer a call regarding an elderly woman having an episode with her heart.

On the way, they ran into severe street flooding. The deep water blocked their access to the neighborhood where the woman lived.

Looking out of the passenger window, Clay thought of those who might not get the help they needed. The blond girl with the steel gray eyes filled his mind. He clicked his tongue. “Rivers and bayous are all full from the other storms.”

They’d had a busy year with two tropical systems and at one point, twenty-one straight days of rain.

Jacked peered out over the steering wheel. “Should have brought the ladder truck. We’ll have to pull over here and walk in.”

Clay nodded. They parked the ambulance on high ground and put on their bulky storm gear. They would wade through the water on foot to get to the elderly woman. Hopefully they’d be able to reach her in time.

***

5

T
oday was officially
Eve Ivey’s first hurricane experience. She wasn’t thrilled about her situation. She would have left and gone to a hotel or rental out of harm’s way, but when Mrs. Howard’s son called asking if she could possibly wait with his mother until he arrived, she’d had no choice. Eve’s neighbor was in her eighties with limited mobility and heart problems. Mrs. Howard, Ruth, wore a pacemaker, though Eve didn’t know the extent of her health issues. So Eve had waited for her son to arrive, but he never did. She’d been unsuccessful reaching him by phone. She guessed he couldn’t get through the traffic as they’d turned all lanes, southbound included, to northbound lanes for a mass exodus of the area.

Eve had set up provisions according to the hurricane guide she received at the super market checkout line. There was a tracking guide inside with an X-Y grid. Eve thought that was silly since the news channels pretty much offered around the clock coverage and they all knew it was headed straight for them. They were currently listening to the exhausting storm coverage that Eve had turned off twice. Ruth was beside herself with worry and kept turning it on to watch the encroaching storm on radar. Watching made Eve uneasy, so she’d started reading an e-book.

When Ruth went to sleep, Eve turned off the television again. With the house quiet, the sounds outside were magnified, and she realized the winds had picked up considerably. They howled and whistled, and in general the storm sounded like a train humming down a track. She peeked out the living room window, gasping when she saw that the curb was no longer visible and the street flowing with water. She thought about the recent tropical systems that had dumped twenty-plus inches of rain, and yet had left the streets clear. She wondered what that meant. Was the storm almost over? She didn’t think it was—not from what the forecasters had been saying—and she had an uneasy feeling because she’d seen from the media coverage of other storms what could happen when infrastructures broke down.

Wet gasps came from the other side of the room. Eve hurried over to Ruth, who was unable to catch her breath. Eve knelt in front of her. “Mrs. Howard… Ruth? What’s wrong?”

“My nitro pills.”

She fumbled with a chain around her neck. Eve reached for it and pulled it over her head.

“Unscrew it, dear.”

Eve smiled. Ruth was always so kind, even when she was ill. Eve poured the pills into the woman’s hand and watched her place one under her tongue. Eve tried to call Ruth’s son, Don, once more, but the call wouldn’t go through.

When the pills fell from Ruth’s hand and she grabbed her chest, Eve called 911 from the landline, thanking God when that call did go through. The operator dispatched a rescue crew and told Eve that Ruth could take another nitro pill in five minutes and a third five minutes after that, if necessary.

Beyond that, Eve felt helpless, not knowing what to do for Ruth. The wind and rain were picking up, and the anxiety gave Eve a most horrible thought—what if Ruth were to die tonight, right there in her chair? God, Eve prayed the paramedics would be able to reach them in time. She couldn’t see how they could even make it through the streets with the flooding, but she hoped.

She sat next to Ruth and held her hand. She read Ruth’s favorite, Jane Austen, from her e-reader. They’d made it through three chapters of
Emma
before Eve jumped to her feet when someone pounded at the door.

“Baton Rouge Fire Department.” The booming masculine voice rang through the house.

“Thank God.” Eve pressed her hand to her chest as she ran to the dimly lit entry and opened the door, ushering them in.

A behemoth of a man towered over her by at least a foot.

“Evening. I’m Clay.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “This is Jack. He’s a paramedic.”

She knew this man. Clay. “Hey, it’s you. From the deli.”

His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t evacuate?”

“I couldn’t.”

She led them to Ruth. “This is Ruth Howard. She had two nitro pills about thirty-five minutes ago, but she didn’t want to take more.”

The smaller one, Jack, approached Ruth, who was still short of breath and incapable of speech. He made eye contact with Eve and asked, “What happened?”

She related the events and explained about Ruth’s pacemaker. He ran vitals on her, or at least that’s what Eve thought he was doing as he checked her pupils, pulse, and breathing. He hooked up her oxygen tank and when he was finished he looked up at the giant and said, “For the pacemaker, I’ve got to go back to the truck for supplies. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

Eve placed her hand on the armrest and knelt so she could look into Ruth’s face. “Jack has to get something that’s going to help you; he’ll be back soon.” Ruth responded with a lethargic nod. Eve smiled at her and swept a loose curl behind her ear. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, child. Thank you.” She cupped Eve’s cheek when she couldn’t say any more.

Ruth kept her home quite warm, and Eve suspected that was why Clay had removed his raingear. She openly gawked at him, like she did the first time they’d met. Only this time she got a much better look. He looked like the men in the fire department calendar she’d purchased at a charity drive. The navy-blue fire department T-shirt he wore pulled snug over his chest and shoulders. It seemed to Eve that the shirt would rip if he exerted any effort whatsoever. His arms were bronzed and heavily veined, and her eyes followed his form to where his back and shoulders flared into a
V
. Her eyes connected with his—a striking ice blue—and she gasped. His pupils seemed to be liquid and churning in a way similar to the raging storm outside.

His eyes resembled the radar images of the spinning hurricane with their white and cloudy inner ring and blue outer ring. He was closely shaven, and his lips were pinched tight. She felt the coiled emotions roiling in him.

Familiar with emotional men and their abuse, Eve had a keen sense of other people’s emotions, especially when they were trying to restrain them, but even as large as he was, she knew she could never be afraid him; this man wasn’t one who hurt others. That sure knowledge was evident in the way his eyes pleaded with her, as if he secretly wanted to be the one saved.

She tossed away her fanciful thought when he cleared his throat and said, “This is irresponsible.” He pointed around the room with his index finger. “You should have evacuated. If we couldn’t get to you, she could’ve died. And we’re still not yet in the clear.”

His voice was harsh and loud. Reflexively Eve cringed, old habits and all, but then she fought to straighten her back and stood her ground. She walked up to the giant and attempted to pull him into the other room away from Ruth. She couldn’t budge him, but he willingly followed her lead after a moment.

How insensitive could one man be, to mention death in front of an obviously ailing woman? Eve met him with an angry whisper.

“Keep your voice down; what if she’d heard you?” Eve stretched her neck and stood on her tiptoes to look around Clay and back into the room where Ruth sat in her chair, oblivious. “You’re very thoughtless. I thought rescue workers and firefighters were supposed to keep people calm.”

His forehead wrinkled. He leaned forward, into her, and said, “We’re also trained to recognize when people put themselves in harmful situations.”

At least his voice was quieter. But that attitude…

He fisted his hands and crossed his arms, causing his biceps to bulge. She envisioned one of those fists flying and she flinched; that blow would be the end of whoever was on the receiving end. Studying him again, she innately knew he’d never thrown a punch at a woman. Her instincts were good, so she knew she was right. There had always been something in her gut that told her Nicolas was dangerous. Too bad she hadn’t listened to those instincts the first time they’d gnawed at her.

She shook off the thoughts from her past—she had enough problems in the present to worry about.

“I couldn’t just leave her. Her son was supposed to come get her, but coming from the north, he apparently couldn’t get through the traffic.” She shrugged. “We haven’t heard from him in a few hours.”

“Mrs. Howard isn’t your mother?”

Eve tilted her head to see his eyes better. “No, I live next door.”

The front door slammed open and banged against a console table behind it. Jack was drenched.

“Water’s knee deep out there.” He carried two plastic cases.

“Oh goodness.” Eve ran to the bathroom and returned to the den with several towels.

Jack toweled off, at the same time pulling what looked like an electronic tablet from a case and thumbed it on. Eve and Clay watched him wave the machine over Ruth’s chest. He held it in his hand and used the touch-screen features. Shaking his head, he said, “The settings are off. I’m going to need to reset the pacemaker.” He looked to Eve. “Do you have any more of those nitro pills?”

Eve went down to her knees and started digging through the carpet. Clay stood behind her, grumbling, and she wondered what his problem was. She ran her hands through the thick shag. “Here’s one.” She handed the pill to Jack. “She dropped them earlier.”

Jack reset the pacemaker without needing the pills, which he said was good in case she needed them for later. Eve found three more in the carpet and a few in the folds of Ruth’s sweater.

Clay pulled on his gear and turned to Eve. “I need to speak with you.”

His brow was raised. Sensing the conversation needed to remain between them, she led him into the foyer.

“We can drop you at the local shelter; you’ll be safe there. I don’t need to tell you that these houses back up to a major bayou.” His demeanor changed for a fleeting second. His eyes glazed over and he was no longer there in the present. “Even if you move to higher ground, the attic, the roof, you will drown, the current will wash all of this away.” He wasn’t moving. He just stood in a trance, eyes unblinking. Thinking of the past she guessed but she didn’t like what she was hearing. She wanted to bring him back from that place but she didn’t know how.

She placed her hand on his forearm. “Sir.”

His head jerked toward her voice. He picked up his equipment. “With the water rising, it’s not safe here.”

“What about Mrs. Howard?”

He looked down, swallowed, and then lifted his head to meet her gaze with a grimace. “Our vehicle can’t get to her—water’s already too high. We’d stall.” He pulled the handles on his boots and they extended another six inches.” I won’t stop trying to get to her, but I can’t risk the engines; we’re gonna need them when this all blows over.”

Eve placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward so only Clay could hear her harsh whisper. “Are you suggesting I leave her alone here?”

He straightened and leaned away from her. “No, I’m just telling you the facts. Power company’s about to cut the electric too.”

Frantic, Eve shook her head. “What? Why would they do that?”

“For safety. Water and power lines don’t mix well.” He zipped up his heavy jacket. “It’s your last chance. Do you want to go to the shelter?”

Eve closed her eyes, amazed at his insensitivity for the second time. “No. I won’t leave her here to die alone like an animal.”

Clay groaned at her words. He held up his hands, surrender style, and she fought back a flinch.

“Fine, stay here. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He turned to Jack. “Ready.”

Eve was outraged at his cavalier attitude—he would have her leave Ruth alone. But he was a
firefighter
; didn’t they all abide by some creed? And what about her instincts? She was so sure he wouldn’t allow a woman to come to harm.

The door was almost shut, but then it opened again and the beast came through it. He walked right up to her, his gaze intense. “I’ll see what I can do to get back here. Sheriff’s got a vehicle that might be able to do it; I’ll try to figure something out.” He turned and was gone, leaving a quiet and humble Eve standing in the foyer.

After taking a few deep breaths, she returned to the den to sit with Ruth. The incessant nattering from the television lulled Eve to that state just before sleep. Sudden and loud booming explosions had her jumping up, and then the lights dimmed, slowly going dark. Once the black settled in, Eve became alarmed. Without the sound from the television to muffle the outside noise, they could hear the storm’s wrath. And it sounded intensely angry.

Huge oaks creaked as wind exploded through the branches and leaves. The tree in the front yard had limbs that stretched over the house, and every now and then something hard landed on the roof. The winds howled, and the house rumbled beneath them. It sounded as if rocks were continuously slamming into the windows and panes.

Perhaps the eeriest effect was the inner doors of the house slowly swaying back and forth. She couldn’t understand their motion because she didn’t feel any air circulating. Even if there were a fan or air conditioner blowing, the doors had never moved before; they were too heavy.

When the wind rushed through the eaves of the house, the result was a horrible rattle that sounded like rodents scurrying across the roof. Eve wanted to ask Ruth if she knew what each of the sounds meant, but she didn’t want to cause the woman more distress, and so her questions remained unspoken.