Page 4 of Control Line

Chapter Two

Barney’s knock on his captain’s door was answered with a gruff, “Come in.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t already beat the dead horse of Yogi Patrol, but he was going to take another whack at it.

“Cap—” His captain cut him off before he barely got a word out.

“Barnes, sit down.” A protest was poised on his lips. “Not a word. Just sit your ass down. If you’re here to argue your assignment yet again, save it. You’re on Yogi and that’s that.” Barney could tell his Cap was about to blow, but he pushed his case anyway.

“But, sir, I’m nowhere near being a newbie. I’ve been a model firefighter. I’m not a disciplinary issue. . .” His superior raised an eyebrow, calling bullshit.

“Really? This is how you’re going to try to sell it? You’ve never met a rule you couldn’t bend, twist, or outright break. You wanna try again?”

Now Cap was just playing with him.

“Fine, I’m a disciplinary nightmare. Is that what you want to hear? But every time I’ve broken a rule, I’ve had a good reason. Hell, I’ve saved lives most of the time.”

“On the job, yes. That’s why you’re still here, Barney. You’re a skilled firefighter and a loyal brother. You’re a hothead off the job, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“Exactly, so why am I getting stuck guarding picnic baskets?”

The shake of his Cap’s head was more frustrated than angry. “You know you are the only one who sees this assignment as a hardship. Most of your brothers fight for it.”

Barney crossed his arms over his chest in a pout. “Then let one of them do it instead of punishing me,” he mumbled. He knew unless there was a forest fire, which he’d never wish for, the most flames he’d see all summer would be if he turned the grill on high.

“Only you would think of it as punishment. Six relatively quiet months in a cabin in sunny California. Yeah, sounds like a real hardship. No clocking in or out. No snoring firemen or community equipment to clean. No entering a building not knowing what awaits you inside.” Cap rose from behind the desk and grabbed something from the drawer before coming around to lean against the front of the worn wood surface.

“How long have we known each other, Winslow? Sixth grade? Second? I don’t even remember anymore, but in all that time, have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”

Barney hated his first name. Only a few people could get away with using it, and his Captain was one. He gave a quick shake of his head. “But, sir—”

“No buts, Barnes. You need a place to live. We need a fireman rotated up on patrol, so why not kill two birds? Plus, yogi gives you the added free time, so to speak, to find a way to rejoin the land of the living. All those hours sitting up in the cabin can be spent on hold cutting through the bureaucratic red tape so you can get paid legally.” He omitted the part where he couldn’t have an uninsured dead man rushing into fires. That would’ve been a whole other nightmare. As it was, they’d kept him off the rig and back at the station on the occasions they had a call.

When the meaning of his words finally sunk in, Barney felt like the lowest piece of shit there was. He was thinking he was being punished, but instead, his brothers were taking care of him. . .again.

Barney had been living in his truck and at the firehouse since the government declared him dead.

It didn’t matter that he’d marched into the social security office, very much alive. There was a mountain of paperwork to being declared not dead when it was a stroke of the pen, it seemed, to declare him so in the first place.

His life had become a flurry of frustration, phone calls, and paperwork, which never seemed to be enough to prove him alive. Now that he had a lawyer working on it, his focus was on finding out who and why.

“Sorry, Cap. I was so focused on the negative, I missed what was right in front of my face.”

“We’ve got your back, man, always. And once you’re alive again, we are throwing a huge bash to celebrate. Your dime, of course. Any news on that front?”

“A little. I checked public records and I have the last town the dead me lived in. Now it’s just a matter of getting more info and I’m getting closer. Again, thanks for having my back. I’ve been a bit of an asshole lately.” The mood was heavy, and Barney wasn’t comfortable with so much emotion. Never had been. “Death changes a man.”

They shared a laugh. But it wasn’t as light as he’d hoped.

“That it does. But just so we’re clear, you were an asshole before your death. Now, grab all your extra crap out of my bunk room, get that piece of shit with expired tags out of my lot, and head up to the cabin. Season opens Saturday, and the potluck is already scheduled. We’ll see you up there.” Cap handed him the item he’d retrieved from his desk earlier. Barney knew what the white envelope contained. . .cash.

His FD brothers had been paying him under the table off the top of their own pay for months. Barney thought he could never repay them. It wasn’t about the money, that could be handled. It was about the kindness. Barney didn’t know if he could ever even that score. Not a single one of them had to do that, but when his bank account closed and he was removed from the roster of life, his brothers stepped up.

They shared their pay, let him couch surf, and ignored his angry outbursts. It was a true brotherhood. One he’d never take for granted again.

He stood with just a nod and headed to the bunk room. After he gathered his gear, he was off to the cabin.

It was truly a cushy assignment. But Barney didn’t do cushy. He was an adrenaline junkie, always had been. Probably what drew him to his current career in the first place. Barney found it hard to need people. It wasn’t his strong suit, to say the least. But the last months had challenged that.

If not for his friends and fellow firefighters, he’d be homeless, jobless, and living under the overpass shouting at passing cars about the end of times.

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