Through Smoke: The Troubled Heroes Series (13 page)

Darryl didn’t say anything for a few minutes.  Jumbled conversations and clinking of dishes echoed in Michael’s head.  What was Darryl thinking?  He was pretty much the only friend he had and he needed to confide in someone.  There was some weight lifted off of his chest, but he still felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I wish I could tell you what to do, Mikey.  I’ll keep an eye out for him. I know you won’t like this suggestion, but have you thought about going to the police?”

Michael scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Did you forget about the rivalry of the brother’s in blue over New York’s bravest?” He was referring to the old tradition of the NYPD and the FDNY going head to head in all aspects of their work. While in dire times they did work together and get the job done, there was always that competitiveness between the two departments that had been present since the eighteen hundreds. 

“While they all might be douche bags, you don’t think they’ll help you out in a situation like this? You know when they gotta do their job, they’ll do it, especially for us. Deep down we all like each other, we just gotta have that presence to keep the show running.”

In all honesty, Michael had thought about going to the police.  He just didn’t have enough to go on.  “If I walked into the precinct at this moment and told them what I had, I’d be laughed out of the office.  I have no solid evidence. They’d say that this isn’t credible, just two coked up druggies out of their minds.” He did have the threat, but as far as he was concerned, no one would know about that.

“What about a missing person report on Casey?”

Nodding, Michael sipped down the last bit of his beer, fighting the urge to order another one.  “I guess if it comes down to it I will, but I’ll find him.  He’ll be needing money soon and I’m the only one he has to come to for that.” At least he hoped.  Casey left on bad terms.  Michael worried that he might turn to alternate ways of getting money.  He cringed at that thought.  He had to find Casey. There was no question about that.

After lunch with Darryl, Michael wondered around Hell’s Kitchen for a few more hours.  He asked a few random people if they k
new or heard of Casey McGinnis
and got the standard answer from all of them.  He felt like a cop and had the sudden need for a shower.  Meandering with drug addicts on street corners wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his day off.  Feeling defeated, he headed back to his apartment.  It was going to be a long night.  He knew he wouldn’t sleep much, not with his baby brother on his mind.

He took a long shower, savoring the steaming water that flowed over his skin.  Ducking his head, he felt it cascade through his hair and down his back.  His hair flowed down his forehead and into his eyes and he realized that it was probably time for a haircut.  He couldn’t believe how random his thoughts were panning out. How could he be thinking about a haircut right now? 

Michael looked up at the showerhead, groaning as the stream flooded his face. It felt so good. It was his time away from the real world, right there in the small shower.  He finally decided to get out when the hot water was slowly fading. 

He had picked out some grey sweats and a Mets shirt, but quickly threw that back in his closet.  Anything baseball related was a quick reminder of the predicament that he and Casey were in and he wanted it as far away as he could get it.  Baseball was ruined for him and sadly, it was one of the biggest things he looked forward to in the spring. Baseball in New York was one of his first memories as a kid. 

He grabbed an old FDNY shirt and put it on.  It was eight PM and he was out of ideas. Sitting at the kitchen table, he eyed the clock above the stove, listening to the second hand as it ticked away. Each second represented a moment he would never get back. 

Pulling himself from his haze, he reached above the sink and pulled out a bottle of old whiskey he hadn’t touched in several months.  He had meant to pour it out, but it somehow had slipped his mind.  At this very minute, he was thankful for that.  His mouth watered at the sight of the amber liquid and without hesitation, he unscrewed the lid and took a large gulp, the burning sensation like medication to his mental wounds.

He had drinks on occasion. There was no way he would give up alcohol altogether. Michael’s main problem was when to draw the
line and stop.  Beer was okay since it wasn’t as harsh. Whiskey
on the other hand, was always taken to extremes.  He didn’t care.  Tonight it was going to serve as his entertainment.

After a few more sips, the burning turned into a numbing sensation.  The flavor of the whiskey was
strong and Michael had a good
buzz going.  His thoughts were even more random than they were in the shower.  Thoughts of Eva, Ca
sey, his mother, and
his father
, or course,
fogged his mind.  Memories of bad rescues where he had lost victims
snuck in
. 

He couldn’t help but feel hypocritical.  Casey was using drugs for the same reason he was drinking.  He wanted a quick fix to the pain he felt.  He was no different than those drug addicts he questioned out on the street. Despite the guilt, he drank down more of the poison.  The couch looked miles away and he mustered up all of his energy and slowly made his way to the living room.  He felt like a toddler learning how to walk, using the wall as support in guidance as his world spun around him. 

His phone was on the coffee table.  Reaching for it, he leaned back on the couch and rested his head on one of the pillows.  The ceiling swiveled and he let out a low laugh.  He began to doze and he jumped when he felt his phone vibrate in his hand.  It took him a second to read the screen. Rubbing his eyes, his vision blurred and he finally saw that it was Eva calling.  Was he reading that right? Should he even answer?

“Hello?” He tried to hide his intoxication, but knew that it would be obvious.

“Mikey? Hey, I wanted to call and see how you were doing. You didn’t seem like yourself at work yesterday.” Her voice was lively and just what he had been missing.  He rolled over on his side. His eyelids were heavy and he fought off the exhaustion.

“Oh I’m fine. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.” She didn’t respond and he laughed. “Cat got your tongue?”

“It’s not that Mikey, and you know it. I tried to explain it. Are you sure you’re okay? You sound drunk.”

He mumbled. “Damn it.” He wasn’t doing too well and knew that he would eventually say something he was going to regret. “I’m not feeling well. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” Before he allowed her to respond he hung the phone up and let it fall to the floor beside the couch.  Her call had caused more frustration, but he was far too tired to get up and grab the bottle from the kitchen table. Cursing under his breath, he buried his face in the pillow and allowed his body to drift off.

Chapter Eight

It was a little after seven and Michael still had not arrived at work. Eva began to pace as she glanced down at her watch for the one-hundredth time.  Mikey was never late. What was going on?  She knew by his tone of voice the night before that he had been drinking.  She hadn’
t dra
nk with him much, but knew that if he allowed it, he could get really down and depressed.  It wasn’t obvious that he was upset about what she had told him. Was that why he had taken it to extremes? There had to be something else going on.

Reaching for her phone, she dialed his number. After several rings it went to his voicemail.  Wincing, she closed it and tossed it on the table across from her. 

“Hey Darryl, you hear from Mikey this morning?” She tried to play it cool.  The worry in her voice was evident and Darryl caught on.

“Nope. It’s only seven ten, sometimes the boy can’t get his ass up.”

Eva ran her hands through her hair and bit her bottom lip.  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Darryl about their short conversation last night.  If he had heard how Michael was talking, he too, would be concerned. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” She walked down the steps to the garage, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Michael walk through the side door.  His hair was disheveled and sticking out every direction under his hat.  His posture was slumped.  He didn’t look well. “Hey Mikey.” She gave a small wave. 

He waved back
but said nothing.  His eyes stared at her for a few seconds before he turned away, beginning to go up stairs before she grabbed his arm, stopping him.  This is not what she wanted to happen.  She didn’t want to lose his friendship. 

“Are you doing okay?”

Michael ducked his head.  There was something in his eyes that made him look so sad, almost like he was lost.  She wanted to pull him into a tight hug, but before either of them could say anything, the alarm went off, dispatching them to an office fire. He kept his eyes on her for a few more moments and finally came out of his trance.  Nodding at her, he grabbed his turnouts and hopped on the truck.  Even without saying anything, Michael had spoken so much to her.  She knew at that instance that there was more going on than their stupid relationship problems.

They followed the fire engine to the call to be on standby just in case.  Eva wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but her heart pounded out of her chest.  Something just felt off.  Something had changed.  It frustrated her to not know what it was.

Swallowing hard, she braced herself at the sight of the fire.  The fourth story of a building was engulfed. Hundreds of people were out on the sidewalk, some with minor injuries, some untouched.  Her eyes scanned and she began triage. It was time to work and get focused on the job.  Their personal life could wait. 

She tried hard to keep her attention away from the fire department, but she kept looking up to check on Mikey.  He had finally
gone
into the building and she found herself saying a silent prayer for him.  Of course, she worried about all of the guys when they went into the belly of the beast, but Michael seemed like he needed it more than anyone else.  Turning to a man with a small gash on his head, she began to bandage him up. So far no major injuries had been reported and hopefully it would stay that way. 

“Okay sir, I think you might need to go in and have stitches. The gash is pretty deep and it could possibly get infected. Are you hurt anywhere else?” She patted down the tape around the gauze.

“No ma’am. I can’t believe this happened.  And to think, we had a fire drill just yesterday.”

Eva forced a smile. “Well hey, at least you were somewhat prepared, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “If you say so. Got half the morons up there running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”

“I’m sure everything is fine.  Just wait here and we’ll get you some transportation to the hospital, okay?”

She turned back to the fire. Was it jumping floors?  Going to the next patient, she jumped out of her skin when a loud explosion echoed across all of the high-rise buildings up and down the block. It was as if a freight train
were
coming at them at top speed. The radio chatter was jumbled.  She could make out words like “McGinnis. Collapse. Two stories.”  Had Michael fallen? So many questions were going through her mind. 

“They got him. They’re bringing him out!” Darryl was yelling into his shoulder radio and running toward the front entrance.  It had to be Michael. 

Wiping her hands on the side of her pants, she tried to get her mind to spring into action.  If it was him she had to keep her composure.  Michael was depending on her to take care of him.  The doors slung open and two firemen had Michael.  She instantly grabbed a backboard and went to them. 

“We’re sorry, Crisante, we had to move him.  The fire was right there.” 

She held her hand up. “It’s okay. How far did he fall?” They answered her but she didn’t hear. She was busy taking vitals and establishing what was happening.  For a few seconds she almost lost it and had to back away, but just seeing him unconscious on the ground was enough to keep her going.  Looking at her partner, she began to spout off the stats.  “BP is ninety over fifty. Pulse is sixty. His nose is bleeding and he’s unresponsive.”

“Okay, let’s get him on the backboard and transport.”

Eva parted Michael’s eyelids and flashed a light down into them. “
Pupils are not responding to light.
”

As they moved him to the backboard, Michael woke up and began to vomit.  Fighting to sit up, they allowed him to move forward to avoid aspirating.  Not much came up and he was dry heaving.  Moaning, he fell flat on his back again and closed his eyes.  Eva tapped his face. “Mikey, wake up! Try to stay awake!”  Everything was a blur to her and she didn’t even realize they were at the ambulance and ready to go.  Stepping into the back, she continued her battle to keep him awake. “Keep your eyes open.”