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****************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent:
Monday, March 15, 2021 11:18 AM
Subject: Hunker Down
Captain Benjamin Stone had one eye
on the skylight windows above the control room
to watch as the Navy water cranes made their runs
to the power plant's river island to
dump their loads to soak down the building. A low hum Ben could
feel as a vibration
in his boots, began to grow. "What's that?" he asked Scott Mason, the electrical
plant's
senior engineer as he eyed up the metal floor grid underneath their thick room
sized
insulation rubber mat.
"I'm re-orientating the lightning rod conduits deeper into the ground
so they'll drain off
residuals faster from the wet transformer grids. There's more bleed off than
I
expected. Usually it's a fresh water rain to handle. Getting ocean water deluges,
are energetic
interactions magnitudes longer than just a simple lighting strike."
"Can your equipment handle
it?" asked the Captain.
Supervisor Mason pursed his lips. "Yes, but we've an issue that may arise
for you
fellas, until the left over electricity leaves the above ground power station coils.
We're.....
sitting on ferrous rock." he said reluctantly.
"Oh, wonderful." Stone hissed, in painful mental
clenching. He turned to one of his
men standing by the door. The firefighter was watching the live
electrical arcs crawling
across the ground to the power sink disks at the bottom of the retracted
lightning
rods. Ben shouted, "Shull! Set up a physical runner assignment to the incident
commander
at regular intervals. Our radios may become compromised by newly
magnetized rock in the regolith!"
"We're going to lose communications?" the firefighter gaped.
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"Might. Physics are going to go against us threefold here. In the meantime, that
man to man line
of sight relay with exchanging slateboards could save our *sses
if it comes down to it. The island
may become a transmission dead spot in a blink."
Stone shared.
The lieutenant toggled his
H.T. "L.A., Engine 8."
##Engine 8, this is L.A. on tactical.##
"We're going manual back
up in case of probable environmental blackout."
##10-4, Engine 8. At 14:17.##
A new voice
came over the channel on Stone's band. ##Engine 51 to Engine 8.
Do you need more man power?## came
Captain Stanley's instantaneous
response over their handy talkies.
"I won't turn it down."
Stone told Hank.
##I'm sending Kelly and Lopez to you via ropes!##
"Copy that." Ben replied.
"Mendez! Go tie off their line when they shoot it over.
We can rig a stokes after their rappel transfer
for air bottles and supplies if
we need them later on."
"Right, Captain." said the grizzled
firefighter on safety watch. He darted for the
front entrance with a pair of gloves ready.
The
plant engineer had more to say. "Now, a second generator localized just
for this panel and all of
the plant's proximity fire alarms will kick on as soon as
the spill over juice from outside falls
below 25K kilojoules per minute. It's a safety
feature to keep me in control here. It'll provide
power for our lights while we're
waiting for the air drops' standing water to sink underground beneath
the power
transfer yard."
"That won't take long." Stone nodded. "We'd better get our scba
on. The heart
of the brush fire's just crested that rise." said, pointing out the vantage windows
ringing the control room.
The plant engineer blanched. "This is the part of our joint operation
for which
I've had no training yet. We ran out of time yesterday for me to get any."
"Don't
worry." reassured Captain Stone. "Smith here will take care of you and
stay by your side the whole
time we're stuck in place. He'll show you how to put
on an air bottle and use it. He'll also give
you new ones, when the old ones run
low."
Mason's grin buckled at the attempted reassurance,
but he put on a brave face.
"Like an astronaut in outer space, right?"
"Yep." replied Firefighter
Smith, nodding. "Piece of cake, mister."
Stone turned at the sound of a hook from a life belt
buzzing down a stretched
rope. Marco and Chet, already wearing their air masks, landed neatly inside
of the control room from an open upper story window and they both
detached from the zip line
that had just been established.
Chet began counting the civilians in the room automatically."Just
him?"
"Yeah." Smith answered.
Kelly leaned in closer. "How's he holding up with the idea
of working in no atmo?"
Smith shrugged. "Engineer Scott Mason's scared. But he's also keeping
a good
mind about himself and his work."
Chet coughed, clearing some steam from his mask through
the face valve. "I'll
keep telling jokes while I watch your backs. He'll be laughing so much, he
won't
care that he's in a vacuum."
Marco was ready. "We have twenty four bottles a man for
now with a second
truck coming in six hours with the same number, Captain Stone. Our Cap wanted
you to know that."
Ben did the math in his head. "Outta sight. The fire won't hang around as long
as
dawn. It'll pass by on the way to the beach. Perfect. Thanks for the report, Lopez.
Do me
a favor. Could you scout around for a suitable fire shelter around here in
case the blaze takes a
crack at us anyway?"
"I'll find a cooler without any compressed gas tanks nearby, and mark a trail
to it
on the walls." Marco promised.
"Good plan." Ben nodded, slipping into his scba gear's
straps. "Be back here in
five minutes. By then, the wildfire will be at the river bank, threatening
our area and burning up all of our oxygen. Meyers, buddy up with Lopez."
"Right!" said a nearby
firefighter freshly anticipating new orders.
"Our helicopters won't be able to fly in the airless
zone when it develops because
combustion won't be possible in their engines if they hit a pocket
of depletion."
Stone told everybody.
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"What about our local generator's?" Chet thought out loud.
Stone grunted. "Hmmm. Feed it a spare
bottle's air hose if it quits. Then restart it under a
tarp. That should hold in any trapped air
we feed it to keep it running, when our free
oxygen drops out to nothing. We'll be on our own for
a while then, manning charged
lines from the doors, on stand by, to protect all infrastructure. So
look sharp."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dave Gordon and Les Taylor brought Johnny Gage and Patty Burns to the Rip Pine
Campsite that
was deep inside the monster footprint of the burned out zone. Embers
on the ground were no longer
glowing, but some of the flash burned trees were still
smoking.
"We're here." said Gordon,
breaking out a blue capture rope noose, pole, and an extra
large portable dog carrier. Surrounding
them, were plastic tarp covered cabins and
a stone constructed lodge that had been saved by fire
control crews the week
before. "This is the last place firefighters reported seeing the pregnant
Irish Setter.
She was so stressed by all of the activity from the fire departments working around
her, that she made it a habit of running upstairs over here, to get away from people."
Dave
pointed to the main visitor's lodge.
"Ah.." Gage exclaimed, sharing an idea. "There's a full bath
tub on the second
floor, I'll just bet."
"What?" asked Patty Burns, putting on her pair of
animal handling gloves. "That isn't
enough water to keep anybody cool in a fire."
"It's to
soak down turnout coats in case of a flashover from the forest. Standard
policy whenever we move
in working any fire." Johnny replied. "But that never
happened here, from what I've read. That filled
tub was forgotten, apparently."
"But found by our lost dog." smiled Les. "The river's undrinkable
from all of the char
and toxic run off from the soil. Any animal would know this and actively seek
out
other water sources."
Patty frowned. "How do you know she's still here?"
Gordon
pointed down to a row of canine tracks that exposed the lighter, normal dirt
and grass within them.
They contrasted clearly against the black soot stained earth.
Droplets of glistening white liquid
lightly peppered the footprints. "That's lactation
residue. She's at least at the laboring stage
or just past the post delivery
phase. She won't travel now. Her instincts will keep her tending pups.
They're the
sole priority in her head once the oxytocin kicks in like that, dropping her
mother's
milk."
"You can't argue with hormones." Taylor shrugged at Burns. "Especially a dog's."
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"Will she trust us? We're from the Pound." Patty mumbled, gesturing to their
uniforms and to the
gear they were off loading from their trucks.
Dave answered her on their way to the main entrance
of the abandoned lodge.
"Probably not. And the usual food offering won't work either. There's too
much
BBQ strewn about in the foothills in wildlife that couldn't escape the fire."
Les shared
more to the vet secretary. "So our game plan is a slow approach
until we're close enough to secure
her from biting, with this capture pole. Eating
free fire food means a greater chance of this dog
contracting rabies or lockjaw
through her stomach."
"I didn't think of that." Patty sighed.
"I did." Gage angled his head. "Anywhere a fire's been, is one big, old, garbage
dump, until
it's been weather cleaned or fill hauled away."
Dave reassured their petite partner. "We'll be
safe enough. And soon, she and
her puppies will be, too. Doc Coolidge will treat anything he finds
on them with
top notch care, like he always does."
The inside of the lodge lobby was silent
and smelling strongly of wood smoke and
the acridness of leftover fire retardant propellant. Abandoned
camping gear from
a boy scout troup still lay piled near the reception desk. Dave reached for a
western patterned wool blanket that he saw folded on top of a backpack to use
as a comfort aid for
the dog.
"Can I go first?" Johnny suddenly asked. "I- I mean, while completely bare
handed,
and with you, hiding that thing.... behind your back?" he insisted, pointing
to the noose rig.
"Sure." Taylor smiled at the dog loving firefighter's paramedic instincts surging
to the foreground.
Johnny looked confident to the others, but inside, he was actually in a fog, mentally
and emotionally
fraught. All he could see in his mind's eye was a vision of Boot,
climbing up through a hole filled
with fire foam, carrying a sodden stick of dynamite
between his teeth. A wave of grief washed up
and away as he suppressed the
memory of that day trapped in the cistern, so he could concentrate
on going up
the stairs.
The soft sound of squirming, contented brand new puppies at the top,
elicited a
sharp lance of something indescribable through his heart. Any doubt he had feared
earlier
about getting close to another dog, shattered into dust.
Gage took off a glove and reached out
towards the mother dog. "Hi there,
girlie girl. How are you and your new family doing?"
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****************************************************
From: patti keiper <pattik1@hotmail.com>
Sent:
Sunday, April 3, 2021 5:42 AM
Subject: Grit
Battalion 7 hopped on the main fire channel
from Command's. ##All crews working
the island, brace yourselves. Chopper 10 reports the fire has
reached your river
banks. ##
Captain Stone's head snapped up and he and his Safety, Firefighter
Duncan,
moved to the windows to peek outside. Ben spoke on HT. "Triple check your
seals and
air supplies. Oxygen levels will be falling rapidly, starting now. We're
on our own until the fire
passes by! Reaffirm verbally."
Fireman Shull Smith, with the power plant engineer Scott Mason,
responded from
the main control room ringed with observation windows. ##Smith with civilian Mason.
Panel 1. ##
Chet stood with Mendez, Station Eight's engineer, just outside, with a primed
hose from the nearest stairwell. ##Mendez, with HT 51 Kelly, side A. On an
inch and a half.##
##Meyers with HT 51 Lopez, Side C exterior, with open route to shelter.##
Captain Stone nodded
in satisfaction, "Duncan and I are on Side B with med
gear and sixteen air bottles near the stokes
zip line. Give me a report every
five minutes on any observations you note and your current ongoing
statuses.
Switch to Battalion 7 on Tach 2 for fire conditions every half hour." he ordered.
##10-4.##
answered his assignment crew.
The plant engineer jumped when Smith clapped a friendly hand on
his shoulder
after checking the straps on his face mask again. Mason jerked, "I am so not
a firefighter.
I - I talk to machines. Redirect power relays..." he mumbled to
himself, as he balanced powerful
electical surges caused by the water the fire
department had rained down on top of them in preparation,
ahead of the leaping
wild fire. "How did I get to today?" he bemoaned, peering at Smith through
his unfamiliar air mask.
"Everybody gets to shine battling Mother Nature at least once in a lifetime,
I
reckon. Your number's up to bat, Mr. Mason. But you've got all of us to help
you. Relax. We've
got your back. We see Mother Nature's fury every
summer. She's not going to win today. Our job, is
to see that she plays fair."
"But you're not in control." stammered Scott, his gloves dancing
nimbly as
he kept the bulk of L.A. County's power running hot, while he shunted water
attenuated
excess into the ground, locally.
"No, we aren't. But we're really good at turning the beast this
year. This
canyon is the last fuel that blaze is going to find, before it runs into the
ocean.
A guaranteed win! All we have to do, is duck a little." Smith grinned.
Right then, the roof of
the power station groaned and popped, as metal
outside heated.
"Ah, there she is. Hello,
Miss Cistern Fire. Tonight's the night you're gonna
die on the beach." Smith chuckled happily.
Mason startled, "You mean, this fire's the same one from April that the old
mine's dynamite started
in that park ten miles away?"
"Yep." the big firefighter replied, his face shield glowing with
reflected
firelight from the burning forest across the river. "She's got long legs, this
one.
But she's toothless!" Smith bellowed at the flames heat rattling the
windows that were tinged from
the inferno surrounding them. "Isn't that
right, sweetheart?" he asked the air.
A cloud of
steam hissed nearby and billowed up from the soggy lawn
that they could see bubbling around the plant.
"Will that stay wet enough?" Scott wondered as he worked across
his whole massive control panel.
"I think the grass is boiling."
"Oh, yeah. No problem. The humidity's through the roof." He held
up
a gloved index finger. "One side of the combustion triangle's busted.
No fuel. One down, two
to go. Now, though, she's hungry. Enough to use up
all of the local oxygen at ground level before
sundown, while we're
under her skirts. But only for an hour or two." Smith flipped up another
finger.
"That's the second side. No more oxygen to burn. Then it's three
strikes, when those leading edge
flames finally touch seawater, sir.
She's out! Her temperature falls to no spark levels as she drowns
and gets snuffed. She doesn't have any oil to boat with."
Scott smiled, "A wildfire as a lady.
Huh. That.. makes this whole mess
a lot less scary. Thank you."
The burly firefighter cracked
open a window next to them to let out escaping
air pressure. "We're in a solid box. No way can she
sit on us long enough
to try any cremation. Heh. My captain sure knows his stuff." Smith said
proudly,
displaying white teeth through the steam on his faceplate.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On the rim of the pine canyon above the power plant's river oxbow island, Roy
DeSoto, Craig Brice,
Captain Stanley, and Mike Stoker waited, eyeballing the
fire's behavior as it surrounded the area
below, driven by the easterly prevailing
winds.
"How are they doing?" Roy asked Hank as he
ran over their squad's triage
supplies that were laid out in the parking lot at their vantage point.
Cap gave him an encouraging thumb's up, but didn't take his ear off of
his active radio chatter.
Brice didn't take his own eyes, glassing through his binoculars,
off of Stone's position at the
plant's windows. "Singed a bit, but not
melting anywhere."
"All thanks to Operation Monsoon."
Stoker joked.
"Good." Roy huffed. "This is one fire I wish would end tomorrow." he sighed.
"I
feel bad for Johnny. It's like this blaze has beaten out his heart. You've
seen him sulking for four
months. Probably unexpected for him,
because Boot was our own dog, and not a human patient.
Training
on dealing with people loss, can never help there."
The others nodded in agreement.
A sudden
gust front against the main stiff breeze tugged their pants legs
and began to grow at a steady rate.
Brice and DeSoto signalled down
to Stanley with a pair of spinning tornado gestures. "We're getting
reverse
suction, Cap!" DeSoto yelled down to Engine 51's location where Hank
and Stoker stood by
with the latest fire loss map.
"Masks!" Cap ordered, and Station 51 went on their air bottles
for safety.
Hank made sure the four of them were geared up tight, before he leaned
back on Squad
51's hood to re-study the halligan tool weighed down chart.
He sighed, readjusting his helmet strap
over the face mask. "Mike, you
might know this. How far up does oxygen depletion reach, beneath a
moving wildfire?"
"Nobody really knows." Stoker shared. "Some scientists have guessed it goes
as high as treetops because of vegetation resistence on air flow, putting
the brakes on any refillling
after consumption. Another theory comes from
reports of small aircraft stalling out in mid air near
forest fires. All plane
crashes like those that we know about, happened when they were below
treed
ridge lines on fire. This is why we ground our water cranes if they
find themselves working in the
same land depression, near any large fire."
"So we're not at risk of suffocation conditions where
we are?"
"Not due to dropping oxygen levels, no. But possibly to the usual smoke
and toxic
gases should the wind shift. Think vulcanologists standing
over the lava lake in Hawaii. Same idea."
Mike shrugged.
Cap shivered. "I hate gas pockets. There's too many bad ones out there.
Grain
silos, locomotive chemical tankers, mines..." he trailed off quickly,
remembering Boot's end. "All
the ills of mankind, designed into things too
poorly adaptive, and ignoring any physics."
"And
how about those towns and cities on flood plains or along coastlines in
tsunami range?"
"Don't
get me started, Stoker." Hank grumbled in irritation, sucking in
a deep breath of bottled air into
his face plate. "We are pretty stupid as an
overall species, disaster proofing wise."
Mike
had the grace to smile, through his.
"Job security!" Roy DeSoto shouted back from the hilltop
overlook.
"Check your radioes. Open mic!" he waved.
Cap shot away from the fender he was hip
leaning on, remembering
belatedly, that his steady stream broadcasting HT, was tucked into
that
jacket pocket. "Whoops."
------------------------------------------------------------------
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"Gage! We've got to move!" shouted Gordon from the foot of the stairs.
"What? Why?!" Johnny
replied over his shoulder, his bare hand still
outstretched towards the new mother dog as a scent
offering.
"Wind's shifted! Dispatch says the fire changed direction once it hit the river.
You
know how low lying valleys get."
"Oh, yeah." he said sarcastically. "Don't I? Only too well."
He eyeballed
the trembling setter eyeballing him. "Uhhh. What do I do, Dave?" he fretted,
afraid
to touch the six puppies, still wet from being born.
"Pick em up and put em into that blanket
you found like eggs into a nest!"
"But--"
"She won't abandon her puppies, Johnny. She's
not a bird!" Taylor replied,
with growing worried impatience.
Gordon expedited decision making.
"If she was going to not trust you, you're
hand would already be full of bloody holes from her fangs,
Gage. Hurry up!"
Gage tucked his pro-offered fingers subconsciously against his chest
apologetically.
"Right. This is now a rapid extrication, is it? Okay.." he
smiled meekly at the nervously whining
setter. "Don't bite me. I don't eat
puppies for dinner."
He slowly gathered up the rump of
the nearest pup with both gingerly placed
hands, and pulled him off a nipple with a soft pop.
"Gage! We can see it!" Patty Burns yelled. Real fear had lanced through her
voice.
"Got it!
No time to be delicate." Johnny rushed, grabbing mom by the scruff
of her neck and singed collar.
He lifted her front half up bodily. "Stand up, girl.
We're in trouble. I'll get your kids. Now, go!
Downstairs.." The remaining five
pups dropped off of their furry breakfast bar, crying loudly at being
disturbed.
Woof! huffed the anxious setter. But she obeyed Johnny, shooting for
the way out
with reluctant steps and retracing back to her pups.
Gage scooped them up in one grab onto the
spread out blanket next
to the first pup. He snagged a waste basket to use as a carrier, dumping
out
its office trash behind him. In moments, they were safely tucked
away into the garbage can, bundled
in wool blanket. He leaped down the
stairs with the mother dog following, practically glued to his
leg, the whole
way down. "Would you-- Be careful? You're gonna trip me and break my
neck!"
Woof! the milk heavy setter complained, grabbing onto the front of Johnny's
jacket and pulling to
hasten his escape.
Patty Burns saw them coming. "Les says we drive to the west. Seawards.
Maybe
we'll find a fire break that's away from the road we lost to the fire."
Johnny burst outside,
handing her the trash can full of blanketed dog brood.
He spun in a circle, reading conditions in
the tree tops quickly."Ah, sh*t." he
breathed when he heard the tell tale hiss of frying pine needles
in the distance.
"It's right there!" he pointed. "Let's go!"
"There's no smoke yet. It can't
be that close.." Les Taylor blurted out, opening
truck doors for their rookies as they bundled inside
both cabs.
"It is. It's not smoky because we're upwind." Johnny grimaced, buckling on
his
seat belt. "The fire's big enough to burn wherever the h*ll it wants."
"We're driving!" said Dave
and Les together. They threw on amber bar
and headlights to advertise themselves to any local fire
crew in the area
who might be bee lining for them by line of sight.
Both dog pound utility
trucks spun dirt in a spray behind them as they sped
away from the campgrounds and into the thinnest
part of the forest.
Patty had her lap full of baby dogs. The irish setter was doing her best
to
crawl into the trash can to be with them. "Easy girl! Watch the shift stick!"
"I got it!"
Les replied, leaning a shoulder to shove the mother away from
his gear shifting hand nimbly. Taylor
cranked the steering wheel full around
stumps, rocks and holes as they bounced at high speed in their
escape.
It was then the first fully ignited tree toppled, to land just feet away in
front of
them. It began to roll backwards towards them, down slope.
"Look out!" cried Dave to Gage as he
swerved to avoid hitting the massive
burning trunk. "Beggers can't be choosers, man." he shouted,
turning
directly toward the stable barn to their right. "Going through!" he warned
on radio to
his partner, racing close behind.
"But what if---"
Boom! The pound trucks burst through
the wooden slat doors and into a
wide clay and straw aisle way flanked by stalls. As Gordon had hoped,
the stable had been picked clean of everything that hadn't been nailed
down. Their way was clear.
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Johnny was still ducking nearly under the dashboard as they
crashed through the second stable door
at the end of the aisle.
Dave began to laugh. "Evacuated, Gage. I knew this a month ago."
He found a new escape path towards the dunes leading to the ocean's
shoreline a few hundred yards
ahead.
A lifeguard truck patrolling surf duty, rushed to join them when they spotted
the pair
of vehicles off the pavement and sporting burning twigs in their
grills.
Les picked up their
loud speaker mic. "We're okay. No injuries! Would you
mind showing us to the nearest freeway outta
here? We've a dog newly birthed
with six on board. She's going to need a vet a.s.a.p."
"Got
it, Carson Shelter 1 and 2. Move to the hard packed seep zone before you
get stuck in soft sand. Dodge
any waves rolling in as you follow us." they replied
on their own P.A.
Gage picked up his
head just in time to see Dave washing away flaming embers
with the windshield wipers. "Must be nice
having four wheel drive."
"All terrain vehicles, Mr. Gage." Gordon grinned. "How many decades
is it going
to be before the fire department follows suit?"
Johnny slumped in relief, back
into his seat when he recognized which beach
they were on and who was in front of them, leading the
way. "Probably not until
we take over the lifeguards." he shrugged. "Man, you guys sure do have the
best
toys."
"Time and tide wait for no man." Gordon retorted. "Quit using roadways to reach
your calls, fireman. They burn up too easily in a fire." he quipped.
"I'll pass that along." Johnny
said weakily, still finding his stomach.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Say, Doc?" Johnny asked Coolidge at the vet clinic once they had offloaded
their emergency patients.
"Hmmm?" murmured the portly vet, still listening to the smallest puppy's heart
through his stethoscope.
"Is your parking lot in back big enough to hold a full sized camper?" I'm not leaving
until I
know all of these guys and their mother, are A-okay."
Les Taylor smiled. "I'll write you a permit
for it so you don't get towed. Come with me."
"Uh, could you-- just-- bring me the book of slips
here? I'm afraid to move." Gage said,
from where he was curled up on the floor rug near the exam
table. Mama dog was
already asleep wth her head pillowed in Johnny's lap in pure exhaustion. An I.V.
line of water and nutrients was snaked into one of her paw veins, running full open.
"I'll bring
it." piped up Patty Burns. "Along with five cups of hot coffee for all of us."
"So what's the
verdict, Doc?" Dave asked seriously.
"Well, it'll be rocky for a couple of hours due to getting
rudely jolted around, but
I think everybody's going to make it. There's absolutely no signs of prematurity.
That setter there must be an absolutely stellar all around mother." Coolidge
giggled appreciatively.
But then his smile dropped away. "But now comes the
hard part."
Gage's eyes got really big.
"Oh?"
Les, Dave and Patty burst out laughing.
Taylor elaborated. "Now you're stuck with
having to decide which lucky pup
you're going home with in a couple of weeks."
Johnny's eyes
immediately watered up. "Him.. I want the littlest one." he said,
"The one with the Doc. He's got
the hardest fight going on."
"What are you going to name him?" Patty asked, gently finger tip
stroking the
soft face fur around the oxygen feed Coolidge was offering the puppy.
"He's adorable
with these black, brown and white patch markings all over him."
"I think I'll call him Grit. Because
that's what he's got in ample supply."
the paramedic replied.
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