Slow Burn, Chapter 5/21

CHAPTER FIVE

“What gives, Custis?  I said to get everybody.”  Marigold stood in the kitchenette and surveyed it with annoyance.  The only ones seated around the table were herself, Ford, Zawisza, and the high schooler medic.  The last looked downright sheepish.

“Uh…this is everybody who was available, lieutenant.”  The girl’s eyes were on the floor.

“Did I ask you to get everybody ‘who was available’?!”  Mare let a controlled amount of anger creep into her voice; it was good for putting the fear of God into rookies and uppity volunteers.  “Where’s Cervantes?”

“I was with her,” Augusta piped up.  “She was in the middle of sorting the donated med supplies, needed to reach a stopping point so she didn’t lose her place.”

“Christ.  And anyone seen Boyd?”

Virginia looked up slightly.  “She’s upstairs in the workout room.  Said she’d be down as soon as she was finished.”

Marigold cursed again.  Becky’s a professional, damn it!  She’s supposed to know to come when called!  The Captain’s recruiting drive had netted a grab bag of women from across the LAFD’s many battalions, but with a composite group like this discipline was evidently lacking.  And it’s up to me to whip them into shape.

“Let’s be clear, ladies,” she intoned, “When I call a crew meeting, it is not optional or come-as-you-can!  Nor is it merely to hear myself talk!”  She banged the table for emphasis.

Augusta looked at her askance.  “Volunteers have a different chain of command, lieutenant.  You know that.”  She lounged back in her chair, stretched out, and crossed her ankles.  “We’re here of our own free will, at our discretion.”

Mare seethed inwardly, but kept an even – if icy – tone.  “You’re right, Zawisza.  I can’t force you.”  She leaned down and glared directly into Augusta’s dark eyes.  “But this collective X chromosome experiment we’ve got going on here isn’t going to amount to jack shit unless everyone pulls together and starts looking out for the team more than themselves.”  Augusta stared back for a few moments before nodding and looking away.

“And get in your dress blues as soon as today’s work is done!”  Mare prodded.  “The wave of lemmings that is the press corps has already started, as you’ve all seen.  The Captain wants everybody looking their best, so we make a good impression on the city.”  Augusta glared daggers at Mare, but remained silent.

Mare pushed off from the table, standing to her full height once more.  “I’m going to go drag them back here.  When I get back, I want to discuss and make sure we’ve gotten all that secondhand equipment inventoried.  Every dollar saved on that stuff is one we can put toward fixing up this old place.”  She took hold of the door handle, then turned back, smiling faintly.  “Don’t want anyone saying LA’s first all-woman fire station isn’t presentable.”

Her smile died as she pulled the door open and found herself face to face with a black ski mask.  Before she could exclaim, she felt jabs as two electrode darts punctured her white oxford uniform shirt and pricked her stomach.  In the blink of an eye she felt a surge of current electrifying her, and her muscles went on strike.  Her knees were buckling, her senses failing.  Wordlessly Mare toppled forward into her assailant.

Pullman staggered back slightly as the lieutenant slumped against him, and time seemed to telescope.  Her head drooped onto his shoulder, her mouth falling open even as her eyelids closed.  Her golden ponytail brushed against his face, filling his nostrils with the alluring scent of a fragrant shampoo.  He felt every quivering tremor as her body pressed against his own.

He lifted his eyes to take in the rest of the room, but all he remembered afterward were snapshots and echoes.

Grady and Ybarra shouldering past him, charging forward.

The three girls at the table shouting in alarm, one – the auburn-haired one – leaping to her feet.

The same girl flying backward through the air, back arched, a look of literal shock on her face.

Feminine shrieks and harsh masculine laughter.

The other brunette diving under the table as the blonde crewwoman rose, with a cocked fist.

The blonde hurtling backward in a rolling chair till it crashed into the far wall, dumping her spasming body to the floor.

The screams of the girl under the table – medic, by the look of her uniform – as Ybarra hauled her out by her hair and plied her mercilessly with two tasers at once.

The ripples of the blonde’s bosom, unrestrained except for her tight T-shirt, as the shock pirouetted through her nervous system.

The delicate limbs of the young medic splayed haphazardly across the linoleum.

And the sudden stillness as the lieutenant’s convulsions quieted and she lay placidly against him.  He let gravity carry her to the floor, guiding her until her back rested against the doorframe.

According to plan, Grady and Ybarra had already peeled off to take down other personnel; for the moment, Pullman was alone with the unconscious girls.  Even before he stood fully erect, his tall frame dominated the room.  Below him, the women were pitiful in their defenselessness.

As he straightened his movement brought him to eye level with the delectable legs of the brunette sprawled on the table.  He hadn’t had time to properly appraise them before, but now her lower limbs, snug in their tights, caught his eye.  He methodically canvassed her sleek legs from her feet and trim ankles, dangling near the floor, past her knees, bent over the edge of the table, up to her succulent thighs where they disappeared into the scanty folds of her skirt.  God bless whoever designed these dress uniforms, he thought to himself.  Pullman knew the closest he would ever get to heaven, and he knew the road there was paved with nylon.

The man’s reveries were interrupted by Grady, who poked his head through the door.  “C’mon!  There’s more down this way!”  Then he withdrew.

Pullman nodded deferentially to the four occupants, then dashed from the room.


* * *


Dina sat on the divan filing her nails, simultaneously storyboarding two very different conversations in her head.  One was the long-delayed interview with Captain Hawkins, one for which her professional training had prepared her very well.  The other was a tense heart-to-heart with Nick – and that was uncharted ground.  Honestly, right now she was trying to think exclusively about the former, but the latter kept intruding.

The person who entered the room next was neither of those Dina expected.

The door burst open to reveal a short man in dark clothes and a black ski mask.  But what instantly drew Dina’s attention was the nine millimeter glinting in his hand.  It was pointed straight at her.

It was evident this was not quite the moment the intruder had been expecting either.  He stalked over to her, shouting, pistol still at the ready.  “Who’re you?  What’re you doing here?!”  His accent was Guatemalan.

Though her heart was beating furiously, Dina’s expression was one of stiff coolness, and her tone even.  “Of the two of us,” she said,” I think you’ve got the bigger share of explaining to do.”  Her eyes never left the gun.

“Dafuck?!”  He lunged forward and grabbed her wrists with his free hand.  The wiry man’s grip was powerful; Dina cried out in pain as he forced her onto her knees.  “I don’t need to answer to you, puta!”

“Ybarra!”  Another voice shouted from beyond the door.  “I told you I’m going to be the one who –” The speaker, a similarly-attired man who was larger and stockier than Ybarra, stopped abruptly as he entered the room.  He looked around in bewilderment, then turned his eyes on Dina.  “Where’s Hawkins?” he asked harshly.  His voice and his very stance had the aura of command.

The reporter gritted her teeth and fought to control her breathing as she replied.  “Believe me, if I knew that I would have been out of here long before now.”

The stocky man cocked his head slightly.  “A little bird told me you’d be meeting her here, now.  So what’s that little comment supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m the only one who showed up for her interview.”  She nodded toward the powered-down camera on the tripod.  “She’s not here.”

The stocky man was silent for a moment, then exploded with a stream of expletives.  After about thirty seconds of this, he stopped and turned to Ybarra.  “Search the rest of the place – make sure she’s not hiding somewhere, lock the station down, and round up anybody we’ve missed.  And tell Pullman to start tying them up – we might be here longer than we planned.”  Ybarra nodded and released Dina’s wrists before exiting.

Dina rubbed them ruefully, then glared defiantly up at the intruder who seemed to be in charge.  “I don’t know what business you have with the captain…”  She stood and looked him in the eyes.  “But if you do find her I must insist on precedence before you settle up.  After all, I was here first.”

The man stared back.  “Cute.”  Then he savagely struck her across the face with the butt of his pistol.  Dazed, Dina spun around and fell against the divan.  She tasted iron from a small trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth.  Through half-lidded eyes she was suddenly mesmerized by the faded pattern of the fabric cushion.

The assailant towered behind her.  Through her doubly-throbbing mental fog, Dina dimly heard an ominous exchange.

“You want me to start with roping this one, boss?”

“No…I’ll take care of this one myself.”