Page 25 of Fighting for Tawny

The women moved restlessly and murmured threats of violence. Tawny couldn’t stop all of them from bolting from the common room to start a riot if that’s what they intended, but she’d take as many down as she could in the meantime. They heard a few shouts outside the common room, and the guards’ immediate response.

Hurry, Yolanda!

Tawny angled closer to the wide entrance of the common room as she kept a wary eye on the others whose undertones grew more menacing. The belligerent one stared at her, probably calculating whether she could beat Tawny in a fistfight. One on one? No. But if they ganged up on her…

Just as Tawny prepared to defend herself, Yolanda bounded into the common room, waving Fahrenheit 451 in her hand. “Got it!”

Tawny took it from her and quickly located the scene where the mechanical hounds beset upon an innocent man, and everyone watching the news was made to believe it was fireman Guy Montag who’d defied the government. Tawny provided context, then read the passage to the women gathered around her, who settled down and listened.

“Fuck,” the not-so-belligerent-now inmate swore. “That shit is real.”

The others murmured their agreement.

“If that wasn’t Bette, who was it?” Yolanda asked.

Tawny tilted her head. “I don’t think it was real. You can do amazing things with technology nowadays.”

“But who wants the public to think the cops killed Bette Simpson?” Yolanda voiced their perplexity.

Tawny wondered about that herself. “I don’t know. Trust me, though. Bette is alive, and she’s made someone desperate enough to fake what we saw. Now go spread the word before there’s a riot.”

“Will you read more of that book to us?” someone asked.

“Yolanda and I start fire classes tomorrow, but sure, I’ll read Part One to you after dinner,” Tawny promised.

“Good, because I like the way you read all dramatic-like.”

With a potential catastrophe averted, Tawny wearily made her way to her cell. She threw herself down on her bunk and folded her hands beneath her head. Her mind spun from the events of the past hour. Who had engineered the shooting of Bette Simpson? Since the DOC knew she was undercover, if Tawny had to guess, she would say it was a scheme cooked up between the Feds and local law enforcement. However, she questioned the wisdom of making it appear as though cops killed Bette. People who watched the event unfolding on TV would ignore the shadowy outline of a gun and only recall that a woman, whom Sheriff O’Grady described as non-threatening, was shot to death. She wondered if riots were happening outside the prison. She hoped not. She hoped a follow-up news report would clarify what happened.

But she couldn’t worry about that right now. Tomorrow would begin a new, and possibly more dangerous, phase of her undercover mission.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tawny completed her assigned chores and headed to the education wing, where fire instruction would begin in five minutes. Eight other women and Yolanda congregated in the classroom. Tawny recognized a few of them and offered a warm hello. She and Yolanda introduced themselves to the others they didn’t know and settled into desks side by side, where spiral notebooks, pens, and pencils had been placed earlier.

As they waited for their instructor, Tawny assessed the others upon whom all their lives depended. Despite their different ethnicities, height, weight, and coloring, they all had one thing in common—their physical fitness. Their bodies were well-toned and muscular, with barely an ounce of fat. This, Tawny knew, was necessary to pass the rigorous physical requirements. She suspected, however, that Warden Stoltz had selected them for something else they had in common—a lack of connection with anyone outside these walls. She needed to learn their backstories to prove her theory.

Brisk footsteps approached the classroom. Everyone sat up straighter, and their quiet conversation ebbed into silence. Tawny irrationally wished that Finnigan…

The instructor, arrayed in full fireman’s regalia, crossed the open threshold, moved to the head of the classroom in front of the dry-erase board, removed the helmet, and smiled.

Tawny gulped. Half her wish came true. A Finnigan did stand in front of her. Moira Finnigan. She silently thanked whoever had arranged this because Moira’s presence here hadn’t been by accident. And though she and Moira weren’t close, Finnigan’s sister eased her loneliness and isolation from the outside world.

Moira briefly made eye contact with her before she introduced herself. “Good morning. I’m Captain Moira Finnigan, and I’ve been a firefighter with the Los Angeles Fire Department for twelve years. I come from a long line of firefighters. In fact, there has been a Finnigan in the fire department since my ancestors immigrated to America from Ireland in the 1800s. My purpose is to teach you the basics of fire science and then put you in the field because experience is a better teacher. So, let’s begin by getting to know each other.”

After two icebreakers that caused plenty of hilarity and good-natured ribbing, Moira began the instruction on the chemistry of fire. Much of this Tawny already knew, but she took copious notes. Next to her, Yolanda scribbled furiously and kept her entire attention on Moira. Yolanda occasionally raised her hand to ask a question, which Moira answered in a kind, patient tone. She used Google Slides to present her information, showing them chemical equations and other scientific facts interspersed with photographs of real fires. Tawny recognized the wildfires that claimed Moira and Marcus’ father’s life. Though a member of SWAT, Finnigan’s flame tattoo was his way of honoring his deceased father.

“These wildfires are dangerous killers. They consume lives as they feed themselves. Many good, well-trained firefighters, my own father included, lost their lives trying to save land, animals, and people.”

“I’ve never understood how they get so bad so fast,” Yolanda commented.

“Here’s how.” Moira explained the natural forces that come together to create such voracious beasts. “We also can’t exclude the careless mistakes that humans make, such as flicking a cigarette butt out a car window or not fully dousing a campfire.”

They spent the remainder of the morning discussing various types of fires and how they burn differently, then broke for lunch. Moira signaled for Tawny to linger behind the others, so she told Yolanda she’d catch up with her in a few minutes.

Tawny and Moira shared a brief hug that lifted her spirit. “Oh, my God! Moira! I can hardly believe you’re here. How’s Finn?” She rarely referred to him by his first name.

“Angry that I’m here instead of him.”

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