"Fire House 666: Code 777" | ClancyPasta PRESENTS

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[00:00:57] ClancyPasta presents Firehouse 666. Code 777. Written by ItchyEnvironment949. And you're listening to ClancyPasta.

[00:01:21] I don't remember how I got here, but I woke up to a splitting headache, a fire alarm blaring overhead. Dispatch crackled through the speaker in a deep voice that sounded almost like an old radio host. Fire department, roll over on hangman's fork. I stumbled out of bed and found myself in a large bunk room lined with unfamiliar beds. Before I could speak, I was pulled into a line with three other men.

[00:01:49] They were all tall, thick, muscled firefighters with neatly trimmed mustaches and bodies shaped by years of hard work. They slapped my shoulders, grinning wide. Their smiles were wrong. Too, uh, tight. Too pleased. Welcome, newbie. The line led to a fire pole. One by one, we slid down.

[00:02:17] On the way down, I caught a glimpse of the station below. It was beautiful in an old, polished way. An open cab engine sat in the center bay, painted a deep, blood, red. The kind of red department stopped using decades ago. Along one wall stood rows of tall, narrow lockers you only ever see in old photographs. When I hit the floor, I ran to a locker with my name stenciled on the front.

[00:02:46] Inside was turnout gear. But it was wrong. Thick, cracked leather. A heavy, all-leather coat stiff with age. Oversized, black, hip boots that belonged in a museum. Not modern gear. I shoved my foot into the first boot. Something stabbed me. I screamed and yanked my foot back out.

[00:03:12] A sewing needle stuck through my sock, already slick with blood. Laughter erupted behind me. Never gets old, one of them said, slapping my back. I checked the other boot. Another needle. More laughter. We got a smart one. Somebody muttered in a British accent.

[00:03:41] My hands shook as I forced my feet in the boots anyways. I clipped the ancient leather coat shut and grabbed a faded helmet from the locker. A massive man stepped from the shadows and slammed a door shut so hard the walls rattled. Let's go! He roared. Then quieter. Where's the new guy? Someone behind me muttered in a high squeaky voice. That fucking guy.

[00:04:12] The chief shot him a hard glare. I swallowed hard. I swallowed hard. Yes, sir. His eyes swept over me slowly, a smile creeping across his face. Jump on the back, he said. And hold on. I hesitated. Heart hammering. Then I grabbed the polished chrome rail and swung onto the back of the rig.

[00:04:38] The engineer climbed behind the wheel, the chief rode shotgun, and the other two men joined me on the rear step. The truck groaned to life with a mournful cry that felt almost alive. Black diesel smoke rolled over us, thick and choking, tasting like iron and old fire. The rig shivered beneath my hands. I couldn't believe we were allowed to ride back there.

[00:05:06] Even when I was a kid, firefighters didn't ride like this. That only existed in old movies and faded photographs. But gripping that old chrome, it felt like the engine remembered every hand that had ever touched it. And it was deciding whether I belonged. Tomorrow morning is knocking. Stock your fridge now. How about a creamy mocha frappuccino drink? Or a sweet vanilla? Smooth caramel, maybe. Or a white chocolate mocha.

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[00:06:05] Shop Wayfair's 4th of July clearance now through July 6th at Wayfair.com. Wayfair, every style, every home. One of the men beside me stomped hard against the steel bed and shouted toward the cab in a deep British accent. All set, coppin'. All set, coppin'. The truck answered with a low, ugly sound. It sat trembling in the doorway like something straining against a leash.

[00:06:33] The engine coughed out a wet, uneven whine. The gears bit hard. Metal screamed. The wheels broke loose so violently it nearly threw us off the truck. The noise coming from the engine wasn't mechanical anymore. It sounded... Wounded. Furious. The red light began sweeping slowly across the darkness in wide, patient arcs. Not frantic.

[00:07:03] Not searching. It moved like something that already knew where you were. The headlights flared next. Thick yellow beams pinning the road ahead in place. Then the siren started. My stomach dropped. The sound stretched into a long, broken howl that crawled up my spine. It wasn't a warning, siren.

[00:07:29] It sounded like an animal that had finally caught the scent of something weaker than itself. The truck flew down the road. I still don't know how the engineer kept it from flipping. We leaned hard through corners, boots skidding across steel. One of the men, the biggest one with the ancient British accent, leaned close enough for me to hear him over the engine. Welcome, proper newbie.

[00:07:57] What did you do to deserve this? I can't remember, I shouted back. He laughed low and rough. Good. Easier that way. Then he leaned closer. Can you remember your name? No. Another laugh. Well, newbie.

[00:08:27] My name's Jack. Welcome to the brigade. He nodded toward the other firefighter. That's Jambalaya. Don't try too hard to understand him. Those French yokels are half-mute anyway. The driver's name is Faye. Jack continued. And the chief? His smile faded.

[00:08:56] His name is Chief. Don't ever ask for anything else. When I finally dared to look up, I realized we were passing through a city. But it wasn't right. Towering skyscrapers sat jammed against tiny houses. Massive factories were wedged between apartment buildings like they'd been dropped from the sky. Nothing matched. Nothing fit.

[00:09:25] There were barely any people out. The few figures I saw didn't seem to walk. So much as drift. Like lost souls who had forgotten where they were supposed to go. The feeling settled deep in my stomach before I even understood it. This wasn't a city built for people. It was a place built to contain them.

[00:09:54] Soon the city disappeared behind us. Now, there was only corn. An endless ocean of dead stalks stretching through the darkness. Even through the red, flashing lights. I could tell something was wrong with the fields. The corn was shriveled and blackened like it had died standing upright. The truck began downshifting with a hungry growl.

[00:10:22] Jack slapped me hard across the back. You're on the nozzle, boy. The engine skidded to a halt. And it started moaning. Something deep and starving echoed through the truck when the engineer threw it into pump gear. Jack dragged me toward the center-mounted hose rail while Jambalaya laughed behind us. Hope it's a good one! He shouted in his thick southern drawl.

[00:10:51] Jack shoved the brass smoothbore nozzle into my hands. Don't worry, he said. I'll be right behind you. I ran toward the front of the truck. And suddenly memories started forcing their way back into my head. I remembered my old fireball. I remembered Rex. I remembered death.

[00:11:21] A mother trapped in a crushed minivan after an 18-wheeler hit her head on. An engine block sitting in her lap while she squeezed my hand with everything she had left. I told her she was going to be okay. But I knew it was a lie. There was nothing we could do. I remember watching the life leave her eyes while the drunk driver walked away almost unnoticed.

[00:11:51] They always did. I thought that was the worst thing I'd ever seen. I was wrong. Because none of that compares to what we deal with in this town. When I rounded the fire truck, there was no fire. A wrecked car, yes. Twisted metal scattered across the road. But no flames.

[00:12:21] Two sheriffs stood on either side of a screaming man, holding him upright. He wasn't screaming for help. He was screaming, Let me go! Then a massive motorcycle cop rolled up on an old Indian motorcycle with chrome polished so bright, it caught the emergency lights like blood and water. His vintage leather boots hit the pavement hard as he kicked down the stand.

[00:12:50] Well, boys. Well, boys. He said in a lone, gravelly voice. What have we got ourselves here? Jack leaned close to my ear. Just hold on until they give the order. He whispered. Never known what the locals want to do with a runaway.

[00:13:14] The head sheriff circled the man slowly like a wolf deciding where to bite first. The man looked sickly, thin, his frightened eyes darting wildly between us. The sheriff stopped directly in front of him. You get one chance before the firehouse gets you, he said calmly. Now, where is the girl?

[00:13:44] The man started pleading immediately. I don't know what you're talking about. I was just driving down the road and then bam, I'm out here in the middle of nowhere. Your cops drove me off the road. Wrong answer, the sheriff replied. Then he turned toward us. Well, chief, you know what to do. The fire truck screamed to life.

[00:14:13] The hose line kicked violently in our hands. Jack leaned close to me again. Get him real good, he whispered. I felt another set of hands grab the hose behind us. Jambalaya was laughing under his breath. He's gonna get it now, he muttered. The sheriff stepped aside, but the deputies kept the man pinned in place.

[00:14:41] He fought against them, sobbing now. Chief! The sheriff barked. Rookie hoses him. The truck siren wailed. Red light washed over the man's terrified face. My hands burned against the hose line as I slowly started cracking the valve open. Then something tugged at my coat. I looked down.

[00:15:12] A little girl no older than six stood beside me. Blue eyes full of innocence stared straight through me. The truck fell silent. The world stopped moving. Even Jack looked shaken. Excuse me, sir? She whispered softly. I need help.

[00:15:38] Jack slowly crouched down in front of her, removing his old leather helmet and setting it gently on the ground. Well, myth? He said carefully. What are you doing out here all by yourself? The little girl burst into tears. I can't remember, she cried. I want my mommy.

[00:16:07] She wrapped her arms around Jack's neck. Everything went quiet. Then Chief grabbed the radio mic. Dispatch, this is Chief requesting a 777 to the scene, he said. And please hurry. Jack, the same man who laughed while needles stabbed through my boots, had tears streaming down his face.

[00:16:37] You're gonna be okay, lass. Yes, he whispered. I'll make sure of it. Jack carried the little girl around the truck and out of sight. Meanwhile, Jambalaya started walking toward the screaming man with an axe in his hands. The sheriff stepped between them. Jambalaya kept rambling about cutting the man in half while the sheriff calmly smiled.

[00:17:08] Don't worry, the sheriff said. EMS is coming. Jambalaya burst out laughing. Oh, yes, he said. Better get him checked out. Chief stepped beside me and gave a small nod. Good work, rookie, he said quietly. Holding off was the right call.

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[00:18:35] Time seemed to stop after that. The deputies stood motionless beside the man who finally looked like he understood he wasn't leaving. Jack sat in the cab of the truck with the little girl on his lap while she played with the sirens and whistles. The sounds had changed. Earlier, the truck sounded...

[00:19:05] Animalistic? Now the sirens sounded cheerful. Almost circus-like. Even the lights had changed. Instead of hunting red beams sweeping through the dark, a thousand bright, playful colors danced across the truck and the road around it. Jack's tears were gone now. Only that huge smile remained.

[00:19:32] I climbed onto the truck to help Jambalaya reload the hose. Then, blinding white headlights washed over the scene. The cleanest patrol car I had ever seen rolled to a stop in front of the engine. Chief stepped forward immediately to greet the sheriff climbing out. This one looked different from the others. Young. Fit. Clean. Clean.

[00:20:01] Like he came from somewhere far outside this place. His uniform was spotless. His shoes gleamed under the emergency light. Jack carefully carried the little girl toward him. All right, miss. Jack said softly. You'd be good now. The sheriff gently lifted her into his arms. Thank you, Jack. Jack.

[00:20:31] The little girl looked up at him. Are you taking me back to my mommy? The sheriff smiled softly. You'll be back with your family very soon. He placed her carefully into the passenger seat before turning back toward us. Jack called out. Is she going back? The sheriff stopped.

[00:21:01] She will. He answered quietly. But I gotta hurry before it's too late. Then his eyes landed on me. Everything about him changed. Instantly. What's he doing here? He snapped. Panic crept into his voice. He shouldn't be here.

[00:21:30] When did he get here? He started toward me, but Chief stepped in front of him. You need to hurry. Chief said firmly. Worry about her. The sheriff tried pushing past him again. Jack stepped forward. For the sake of God, he said. Just take her. The sheriff finally stopped struggling.

[00:21:58] But he kept staring at me. You need to remember. He shouted. Then he looked back at Chief. Chief. I'm coming back for him. Jack and Chief answered at the same time. We'll see about that. The sheriff peeled away into the darkness. From atop the truck. From atop the truck.

[00:22:26] I watched his patrol car disappear toward a single bright light far off across the dead field. Then the fire truck began howling again. A 1940s ambulance came screaming down the road. Sirens echoing across the cornfield. The dirty white rear doors burst open.

[00:22:51] Two impossibly beautiful nurses stepped out wearing crisp, old-fashioned uniforms. They casually chatted about the weather while pulling a gurney from the back. The man started thrashing harder the moment he saw them. The deputy slammed him onto the gurney and pinned his arms down while the nurses strapped him in. One of the nurses had long, bright red fingernails.

[00:23:19] Without warning, one of the nurses traced a red fingernail down the man's face hard enough to make him scream. Shut up, she said coldly. He kept screaming anyway. The nurse shrugged. Don't worry, she said. The doctor's gonna see you soon. Everyone laughed.

[00:23:48] The nurses calmly rolled him into the ambulance while he continued screaming. Then the door slammed shut behind him. One of the nurses walked over to a chief carrying a clipboard. She smiled at me. Fresh meat, I see? Chief barely glanced in my direction. Something like that. All right, she said. Sign here.

[00:24:18] She pointed toward the clipboard but kept staring at Jack, sitting quietly on the truck bumper. What's wrong with him? She asked. He's usually making jokes about ripping me open. And chief lit a cigar and looked away. Leave him be. After that, everyone loaded back onto the truck. We rode home in silence.

[00:24:49] Jack stood on the rear step the entire ride back with that same huge grin stretched across his face, while tears rolled endlessly down his cheeks. Now, chief has me writing reports because, apparently, nobody here knows how to use a computer. The only thing on this computer is a browser.

[00:25:17] Every time I click the browser, Reddit opens. So, I guess, this is my report. Summer is calling. And your favorite artists are at Wolf Trap.

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